Not only does it wash dishes with zero water use, it also provides much needed protein for budget-conscious families.
Friday, October 21, 2022
Fake News Friday: California Compliant, Zero Water dishwasher
Clayton and Kristal: Show-time
Kristal had given him lot of crap about his preps for the coming night.
She finally relented when Clayton repeated the words of the vet “...epidemic of poisoned guard-dogs…”
“And why do you think somebody would poison a guard-dog?” Clayton asked. “Do you suppose it is because they intend to rob the place?”
He asked her to move Mattie to their bedroom and to take care of her if Mattie woke up. He also told her to NOT come out of the bedroom until daylight.
He also gave her the .22 rifle that she had used to shoot apples in the apple orchard. It was the gun she was most familiar with.
He prayed to God that it would not come to the point to where she needed to use it, although he firmly believed that anybody who could cold-bloodedly kill a dog would have no problem raping and killing humans.
Clayton was a firm believer in layers of defense. No single defense was impenetrable but multiple layers could slow down attackers and make it expensive, very expensive, to continue the assault.
The first layers were passive. He used 3” deck-screws to secure three 2-by-4s across the man-door into the garage. There was no way that door was going to open inwards even if the burglars used a battering ram.
The three entryway doors into the house were more challenging because they had windows---great big, 20” wide by 36” tall, 9-pane windows. Even if he threw the dead-bolts, the thieves could smash the window and open the deadbolts by reaching through and opening the door from the inside.
Clayton contented himself with deck-screwing cleats to the floor and cutting a 2-by-4 with a notch in one end and an angle cut in the other. One end of the 2-by rested against the cleat and the notched end was wedged beneath the door-handle.
It wasn’t perfect because the thieves could completely bust out the window and removed the 2- brace...but it was what he could do for a passive defence given his other plans.
Clayton briefly considered “hardening” the windows as points of entry but decided against it. His house was in an area with poor drainage and had a 36” high crawl-space. The house was completely barren of any landscaping shrubs that could mask the approach of people attempting to break in.
Finally, the bottom sill of the windows were another 32” up. Why would anybody try to enter a house by climbing over an opening that was six feet in the air when they could walk in through a door.
Clayton made several passes through the house and dowsed everything that made light. He put black electrical tape over the LED tell-tales of the items he could not unplug.
He was the hunter. Darkness was his friend.
Clayton sat in a kitchen chair with his shotgun across the table.
The “Woke” prosecutor for Ingham County had been very clear that defending your property with lethal force would get you sent to jail and then prison. Meanwhile, “disadvantaged classes” who were caught breaking-and-entering or carrying firearms were released without bail within hours.
Clayton did NOT want to go to prison and leave his family unprotected.
The 20 gauge shotgun was there in case all of the other layers of defense failed.
She finally relented when Clayton repeated the words of the vet “...epidemic of poisoned guard-dogs…”
“And why do you think somebody would poison a guard-dog?” Clayton asked. “Do you suppose it is because they intend to rob the place?”
He asked her to move Mattie to their bedroom and to take care of her if Mattie woke up. He also told her to NOT come out of the bedroom until daylight.
He also gave her the .22 rifle that she had used to shoot apples in the apple orchard. It was the gun she was most familiar with.
He prayed to God that it would not come to the point to where she needed to use it, although he firmly believed that anybody who could cold-bloodedly kill a dog would have no problem raping and killing humans.
Clayton was a firm believer in layers of defense. No single defense was impenetrable but multiple layers could slow down attackers and make it expensive, very expensive, to continue the assault.
The first layers were passive. He used 3” deck-screws to secure three 2-by-4s across the man-door into the garage. There was no way that door was going to open inwards even if the burglars used a battering ram.
The three entryway doors into the house were more challenging because they had windows---great big, 20” wide by 36” tall, 9-pane windows. Even if he threw the dead-bolts, the thieves could smash the window and open the deadbolts by reaching through and opening the door from the inside.
Clayton contented himself with deck-screwing cleats to the floor and cutting a 2-by-4 with a notch in one end and an angle cut in the other. One end of the 2-by rested against the cleat and the notched end was wedged beneath the door-handle.
It wasn’t perfect because the thieves could completely bust out the window and removed the 2- brace...but it was what he could do for a passive defence given his other plans.
Clayton briefly considered “hardening” the windows as points of entry but decided against it. His house was in an area with poor drainage and had a 36” high crawl-space. The house was completely barren of any landscaping shrubs that could mask the approach of people attempting to break in.
Finally, the bottom sill of the windows were another 32” up. Why would anybody try to enter a house by climbing over an opening that was six feet in the air when they could walk in through a door.
Clayton made several passes through the house and dowsed everything that made light. He put black electrical tape over the LED tell-tales of the items he could not unplug.
He was the hunter. Darkness was his friend.
Clayton sat in a kitchen chair with his shotgun across the table.
The “Woke” prosecutor for Ingham County had been very clear that defending your property with lethal force would get you sent to jail and then prison. Meanwhile, “disadvantaged classes” who were caught breaking-and-entering or carrying firearms were released without bail within hours.
Clayton did NOT want to go to prison and leave his family unprotected.
The 20 gauge shotgun was there in case all of the other layers of defense failed.
***
Clayton startled awake with the rattling of the chainlink fence when the “goblins” cut the lock and opened the gate.
He checked the security cams with his smartphone, which was on the very lowest “brightness” setting. Three shadowy figures flitted to the man-door on the garage. They had either walked there, or more likely, had been dropped off since there were no vehicles parked on the street.
He heard some hammering as the goblins slid the lock-set down to give them access to the guts of the lock. A few more blows with a hammer and then he heard them try to open the door. It only swung a couple of inches before banging into the 2-by-4 cross-pieces. They tried two or three more times to force it open but then abandoned the effort.
They abandoned their first attempt and moved to the next entry door. It was clear in Clayton’s mind that they had done this before.
His “targets” were funneling in just the way he would have if he was breaking in. They did not go to the porch that faced the street but chose one that was more hidden.
Clayton doused his smartphone and laid it, screen down, on the table.
It was show-time.
Thursday, October 20, 2022
Meat Grinders and such
I recently purchased a power meat grinder. It is a loud, powerful brute with a 10A current draw and a three-pound hopper.
The box was sitting in our driveway when we came back from our monthly "date" with Belladonna. Bella was in the minivan and offered to move the box.
After moving the box, Bella gave me a saucy grin.
"You know, Dad, there is an app for that" she said.
"Whaddya mean?" I asked. I could not imagine a smartphone app to run a grinder. This grinder came with a foot-pedal but it didn't say anything about WIFI connected.
"There is an app called 'Grinder'...but it is probably not for you" she told me.
I took a peek after she left. She was right. It is VERY MUCH not for me.
Company
We have company coming on Saturday. Part-and-parcel of being empty-nesters. This promises to be interesting. It is an eclectic group of people showing up.
I also promised to watch Belladonna compete in a Cross-fit competition in a community that is a two-hour drive away. She was describing the various challenges...doing pull-ups while flossing their teeth with a silk thread held between the toes of their feet. Shooting eggs with a BB gun while standing on the shoulders of a team-mate who is riding a unicycle through an obstacle course. That kind of thing.
Tires
Kubota is learning that "cool" and "economical" are usually at opposite ends of the spectrum.
I think many parents face the same kinds of tension we face. How much "failure" do you allow a child to enjoy before presenting a solution? There is not a single, right answer. The diversity in our kids and in our parenting choices creates a broad swarm of people with different skills and world-views.
One solution that would allow him to have his cake-and-eat-it-too would be to re-shoe his ride with stock rims-and-tires. He can keep the "cool" (but bald) ones for the weekends when he goes 4-Wheeling with is buds and drive the stock-sized Street-front and A/T rears to work 50 weeks of the year.
He may crap all over the idea but it is a thought. Stock tires are 1/3 the price of the "Mudder-Frs".
Mrs ERJ remembers that we helped other kids with tires. Tires and brakes and oil-changes.
Good enough
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| Sighting in the cross-bow after changing to a different scope (a Simmons .22 Mag 4X32). Walking it into the 10-ring at 15 paces. |
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| It was about 3-1/2" low at 30 paces when dead-on at 15. These are the last shots I took. The lower arrow is 1" high and the other is 1.5" high. |
The joys of being retired and married
Mrs ERJ asked if there was anything she could do to help me out.
That is one of the special joys of being married and retired, we can help each other out.
I mentioned that the rope-cocker was a bit long. I had to bring the handles up to my nipples and that was a chore.
I asked her to push the rope out of one of the handles and tie another knot in it about 9 inches up the rope to shorten it.
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| I thanked her profusely. There are some roads that are just not worth going down. |
Wednesday, October 19, 2022
Seeing over the horizon
I have a friend who is a big fan of The Praying Medic. He said the PM has been focusing on radio communications the last few weeks.
Quite by coincidence, I have another friend who asked me if I had any knowledge about radio frequencies that would allow him to "see beyond the horizon" and get advance information about trouble that might be coming his way. His horizon is defined by the tree-line some 300 yards from his house.
I understand his concerns. He lives about 10 miles from a prison and fairly close to an interstate. It WOULD be nice to have a way to monitor events that are more than 300 yards away.
I don't have any particular knowledge but I do have the time and ability to perform some internet searches.
Attached is my response to the second friend:
If you are looking for prompt weather updates in scary weather situations, 146.55 MHz is said to be the most used frequency by storm chasers as they communicate with other authorities. You can get live weather updates from this one.
Image from here...and much more at this link: https://www.radioreference.
While most normal people are prohibited from transmitting on these channels, there is nothing that prohibits us from programming our radios and LISTENING to unencrypted communication of what is going down.
Clayton and Kristal: Bowser
Kristal left for work before Clayton woke up.
Clayton had a couple of shots of whiskey before turning in for the night, knowing Kristal would be coming in late.
He smelled the scent of her soap when she joined him in bed shortly after midnight. She had showered after her double-shift.
Mattie had awakened at 3:00AM which was unusual for her. Clayton woke up, changed her and fed her a bottle. He may have had another shot or two as well. Maybe two-or-three.
Clayton woke up with a headache. He drank a tumbler of tap-water before seeing to Mattie. Another change of diapers, another bottle, another change.
He was throwing a cup of water into the microwave to make a cup of coffee when he saw the note Kristal left. He had been a connoisseur of fine coffee before Mattie was born. Now he just made instant.
Bowser did not eat breakfast. PLEASE take him to the vet.
Clayton did not quite roll his eyes. Bowser had been Kristal’s dog since...forever. He was a pitbull cross and had to be at least eight years old. It would screw up his plans for the day...but Bowser counted as family.
It took Clayton twenty minutes to shoe-horn the trailer into its appointed slot and then unhitch it. Another twenty minutes to pack Mattie’s things for daycare.
After dropping Mattie at the daycare, he swung back by the house and picked up Bowser. He did look distressed.
The vet poked and prodded. Clayton agreed to foot the bill for “imaging”. The news was not good.
“Your dog was poisoned” vet said.
“What?” Clayton exclaimed.
The vet pulled an image up on the computer screen. “There is a sponge in his stomach” she said.
“How the hell did that get there?” Clayton asked. He could not recall any sponges in the house where Bowser could get to them.
“We are seeing a lot of this” the vet admitted. “It seems that people who want to poison dogs, usually guard-dogs like Bowser, soak a sponge in grease from fried hamburger. Then they compress the sponge to the shape of a hot-dog and wrap it with kite string. They cut the string after the grease cools.”
“How do you know that?” Clayton asked, angry.
“It is what we have been removing from dog stomachs” she said. "Bowser is not the first and I am sure he will not be the last."
“What does it cost to remove the sponge?” Clayton pressed.
“I am sorry. Based on Bowser’s age he is not a candidate for surgery. I am so very sorry.” the vet said.
“In a way, you are lucky” the vet said.
Clayton raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
“Some of the dogs that come in here have been poisoned with ‘button batteries’. They burn a hole through the dog’s intestines and it must be incredibly painful. At least the sponge is doesn’t hurt so bad that they cannot walk.”
Clayton took Bowser out to the truck and texted Kristal. He waited a half-hour and she did not respond.
He walked Bowser back into the clinic and held him while the vet put Bowser down.
He didn't see that he had any other choice.
Clayton had a couple of shots of whiskey before turning in for the night, knowing Kristal would be coming in late.
He smelled the scent of her soap when she joined him in bed shortly after midnight. She had showered after her double-shift.
Mattie had awakened at 3:00AM which was unusual for her. Clayton woke up, changed her and fed her a bottle. He may have had another shot or two as well. Maybe two-or-three.
Clayton woke up with a headache. He drank a tumbler of tap-water before seeing to Mattie. Another change of diapers, another bottle, another change.
He was throwing a cup of water into the microwave to make a cup of coffee when he saw the note Kristal left. He had been a connoisseur of fine coffee before Mattie was born. Now he just made instant.
Bowser did not eat breakfast. PLEASE take him to the vet.
Clayton did not quite roll his eyes. Bowser had been Kristal’s dog since...forever. He was a pitbull cross and had to be at least eight years old. It would screw up his plans for the day...but Bowser counted as family.
It took Clayton twenty minutes to shoe-horn the trailer into its appointed slot and then unhitch it. Another twenty minutes to pack Mattie’s things for daycare.
After dropping Mattie at the daycare, he swung back by the house and picked up Bowser. He did look distressed.
The vet poked and prodded. Clayton agreed to foot the bill for “imaging”. The news was not good.
“Your dog was poisoned” vet said.
“What?” Clayton exclaimed.
The vet pulled an image up on the computer screen. “There is a sponge in his stomach” she said.
“How the hell did that get there?” Clayton asked. He could not recall any sponges in the house where Bowser could get to them.
“We are seeing a lot of this” the vet admitted. “It seems that people who want to poison dogs, usually guard-dogs like Bowser, soak a sponge in grease from fried hamburger. Then they compress the sponge to the shape of a hot-dog and wrap it with kite string. They cut the string after the grease cools.”
“How do you know that?” Clayton asked, angry.
“It is what we have been removing from dog stomachs” she said. "Bowser is not the first and I am sure he will not be the last."
“What does it cost to remove the sponge?” Clayton pressed.
“I am sorry. Based on Bowser’s age he is not a candidate for surgery. I am so very sorry.” the vet said.
“In a way, you are lucky” the vet said.
Clayton raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
“Some of the dogs that come in here have been poisoned with ‘button batteries’. They burn a hole through the dog’s intestines and it must be incredibly painful. At least the sponge is doesn’t hurt so bad that they cannot walk.”
Clayton took Bowser out to the truck and texted Kristal. He waited a half-hour and she did not respond.
He walked Bowser back into the clinic and held him while the vet put Bowser down.
He didn't see that he had any other choice.
***
Krystal’s rage was volcanic.
Clayton thought he had done what she asked. He had taken Bowser to the vet and had been damned lucky to get an appointment.
She was screaming at him, not noticing that Mattie was also crying. “I didn’t get to say good-bye to him!”
It was like a broken record. Over and over and over again. Louder and louder.
"You should have waited for me...."
Clayton couldn’t stand the noise and the blaming. He walked out the door.
After several laps of walking around the block, he called his mom. She listened a bit and then advised that he go back into the house and just hold Kristal’s hand.
“She needs to know that you feel her pain” his mom told him. “Don’t justify. Don’t defend. Just listen.”
“Keep reminding her that she is the most important thing in your life. Her and Mattie.”
He walked back in and she started yelling at him again, but with less anger and more worry.
When she seemed to lose a little bit of steam, he extended his hand. She took it. He moved over and sat on the couch next to her.
Somehow, not looking eye-to-eye defused some of the confrontation.
She was still angry, but not so much at him.
After a bit she put her head on his shoulder and wept violently.
“I don’t know what is the matter with me” she said. “I just can’t think straight and my emotions are all over the place.”
“Its not important. You have been working a boatload of hours. Everybody is stressed” Clayton reassured her.
She hesitated. Then she said “I think we might be pregnant.”
It was on the tip of Clayton’s tongue to ask her if she thought this was a good time to bring another child into the world...but something stayed his tongue.
He hugged her.
He echoed his mother’s wisdom. “Nothing is more important to me than you...and Mattie...and now our new child.”
Clayton couldn’t stand the noise and the blaming. He walked out the door.
After several laps of walking around the block, he called his mom. She listened a bit and then advised that he go back into the house and just hold Kristal’s hand.
“She needs to know that you feel her pain” his mom told him. “Don’t justify. Don’t defend. Just listen.”
“Keep reminding her that she is the most important thing in your life. Her and Mattie.”
He walked back in and she started yelling at him again, but with less anger and more worry.
When she seemed to lose a little bit of steam, he extended his hand. She took it. He moved over and sat on the couch next to her.
Somehow, not looking eye-to-eye defused some of the confrontation.
She was still angry, but not so much at him.
After a bit she put her head on his shoulder and wept violently.
“I don’t know what is the matter with me” she said. “I just can’t think straight and my emotions are all over the place.”
“Its not important. You have been working a boatload of hours. Everybody is stressed” Clayton reassured her.
She hesitated. Then she said “I think we might be pregnant.”
It was on the tip of Clayton’s tongue to ask her if she thought this was a good time to bring another child into the world...but something stayed his tongue.
He hugged her.
He echoed his mother’s wisdom. “Nothing is more important to me than you...and Mattie...and now our new child.”
Tuesday, October 18, 2022
Lost knowledge
"...new people take the old inventions so much for granted that it’s not just that they don’t understand how to replicate them, they lose the idea that such things ever existed." -Silicon Graybeard
My impressions of the phenomena that S-G points out is that things that were once common knowledge are forgotten as "the smart people" follow the cutting-edge.
In the 1940s and 1950s, manufacturing was the cutting edge that kept us ahead of the NAZI and Japanese, then the Soviet threat. It attracted many of the best-and-brightest.
At one point, all of the important questions were considered solved and the market (wages) called inquisitive people elsewhere.
Rules that had been left in place were covered with sediment. Ad hoc rule-of-thumb were formulated and used instead of the cumulative wisdom. Unintended consequences resulted from the simplified or warped rule-set.
The full moon causes frost
One of the culprits in the dumbing-down is a lack of understanding about "spurious associations".
For example, in many places it is believed that the full moon causes frost. There are accounts where observers claim that they measured the temperature plummet when the full moon became visible in the night sky.
The crux of the misinformation is the casually chosen "null hypothesis". It is widely know that the night-time temperature does not fall nearly as much when the sky is cloudy as when it is clear. So was it the fact that the phase of the moon was "full" or the fact that the sky became clear, that is free-of-clouds?
The full moon grabs our attention. It is far less obvious when something is NOT there.
Wouldn't it be more "pure" to compare the temperature drop on a clear night when the moon was full and the moon was "new"?
But what immediately catches the eye is what most observers will assume is "causality". The drop in temperature was not due to the full moon suddenly became visible. It was because the clouds moved away and stopped reflecting radiant heat loss from escaping to deep-space.
So it is when people do not study history
History is full rule-sets that seem unduly complicated. Why DO people have to be married before having children? Why should people not have sex outside of marriage? Why should people tell the truth or not gossip? Why shouldn't I steal from somebody who has more than they need?
It seems so easy to prune out the complications and run with a rule-set that seems consistent with our own, personal observations.
The implicit assumption is that our own observations are objective and unbiased. But how often do we have preconceptions about others' motives, preconceptions that might bias our assumed direction of causality?
Risk cannot be destroyed. It can only be budgeted. It can be hidden in dark places where there are few resources to address it when it goes south. Or it can be acknowledged and addressed explicitly.
I know which I prefer.
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