If everything worked as well as the product called Evapo-Rust, the world would be a much better place.
That’s just one of the many lessons learned during my recent — successful! — project to transform my old, nonfunctioning gasoline-powered generator into something much better.
Twenty-five years ago today, the lights turned on here at OFB. We were going to help the Linux Desktop revolution happen. We’re not there yet, but it has been an interesting ride.
My grandparents, whose little farm was next door to ours so my sisters and I grew up effectively with two houses and two very different sets of parents, were lovely people.
A controversy at a Christian publication this week gives us an unusual twist on the AI debate. The great medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas and self-driving cars now have something in common.
My friends Pat and Bobby visited briefly over the weekend.
I met them when Pat and I were in ninth grade and we both shot Miranda cameras. The last time I saw Pat, George W. Bush was president; the last time I saw Robert, Richard Nixon was. Pat now lives in Lithuania. Bobby doesn’t.
You want less of them. That’s the reason. You may find that it’s too hard to stop people from doing the thing, literally blood, sweat, and tears trying to prosecute people, but that’s a different thing.
A long time ago I was assigned the task of tracking down a guy named Guido Franch, who had some pills or pellets or something that he said would turn water into gasoline.
People I know who have Wen-brand home generators seem to like them, which is part of the reason I decided to purchase one. The rest of the reason is that it had the features I sought at a price I was willing to pay.
If the cheerful Pollyanna were given the task of comparing the manufacturers’ claims about electrical power supplies, and power-using devices, to measurable reality, by day’s end she would have hardened into a cynic and by week’s end might well have become a heavy drinker.
The last decade, we’ve been told we have to speak — and speak loudly — or we’re the bad guys. And, of course, say what the mob says or we’re still the bad guys. But silence is often more profound.