Dr. Delbert Doppler, Ph.D.'s Journal|
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Dr. Delbert Doppler, Ph.D.'s LiveJournal:
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|Friday, November 28th, 2003|
| The collapse of stellar systems will occur -- like creation -- in grandiose splendor. -- Blaise Pascal, Lessons of Darkness
Current Mood: contemplative
|Saturday, November 8th, 2003|
Ah...this is SO amusing! Chuckling audibly.
Well...perhaps this might be jocular only to people who plot differential equations. Current Mood: amused
|Thursday, July 17th, 2003|
Umphfff...well, I’m finally back and allowed to be up long enough to use the electronic communicator to post an update to my journal. I had a slight relapse and have spent the past two weeks back in my own bed being cared for by Kitty
). She made quite a fuss over me (which was rather nice, the parts that I can remember)
and repeatedly threatened to tie me to the bed in order to keep me there until I was fully over my malady (that might have been nice too, if I hadn’t been so ill).
Turns out that I had the Alderian Whooping Flu and I’m not sure now which was worse, the disease or the cure.
I have NO
Amelia found that doctor fellow named Rumsworthy, and I have to wonder if B.E.N.
might have had something to do with the selection of medical practitioners. Oh, pardon me, I meant to say "Terrence Q. Rumsworthy M.D. the THIRD
" because the doctor was quite adamant about being referred to by his full title. While he certainly was quite competent (I did finally get well under his prescribed regimen of medicines)
, he was also the most over-amorous...errr...over-enthusiastic fellow I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. He kept asking me about Sarah
and whether she had a boyfriend and I caught him leering...errr...staring a bit too closely at Kitty. If I hadn’t been so ill, I’d have attempted to strike the man, but I imagine that Kitty was able to take care of herself and Sarah. Seeing as Rumsworthy (M.D.III)
is so interested in the female form, I’m rather surprised (but relieved)
that he chose to enter into general practice and not gynecological studies. Kitty always made him wash his hands before he examined me, but even then I insisted that she drag me into the bath so I could shower as soon as he left (ugh...he smelt of rum, astringent, cheap cologne, and more rum...horrible combination...no wonder the man never could get any dates)
The last time Dr. Rumsworthy (M.D.III)
came by to see me, I noticed that he had a black eye, no doubt given to him by some partially-paralyzed paramour upon whom he was trying to force his unwanted affections. He was also limping a bit, which amused me greatly (I’m hoping whoever kicked him had pointed, metal-clad boots)
. Rumsworthy (M.D.III)
checked me over, announced me pretty much cured, but told me to take it easy and not over-tax myself for a while or he would be forced come back to visit me again. He then turned and winked broadly at Kitty and Sarah. Seeing that, Sarah looked extremely ill, which caused him inquire if she perhaps needed a check-up. Kitty had an incredibly sour expression on her face which made him ask if she had a stomach ache and he offered to toss her check-up in for free (a two-for-one special, he said...but he'd have to examine both ladies at the same time). Amelia let out a low hiss and was moving towards him when he finally realized he had overstayed his welcome. He bid me a hasty goodbye, grabbed his medical bag, and fled the premises. I'm hoping that B.E.N. foisted some of his special microchip cookies
upon the good doctor on his way out the door.
All right...Kitty is putting me back to bed again. More later on how I became so ill. Current Mood: lethargic
|Wednesday, June 25th, 2003|
So...about two weeks ago, B.E.N.
and I (in my carriage pulled by Delilah)
went in to Benbow town and I decided to go by the shipyards to check out the progress of the Legacy's
repairs. I recognized Kitty
from a distance standing on the dock and shouting at the foreman...I couldn’t make out what was being said but judging by her body language, the repair crew had done something wrong (again)
. At least none of Kitty's male spacer friends had been lurking about. When Kitty picked up a spare iron bibcock and began making threatening gestures with it, I decided that it was high time for B.E.N and I to head over to this little establishment that I’ve visited in the past: Ye Olde Old Robotics Repair, whose proprietor is an aged, sullen female Benbonian by the name of Finella Tinkerton. Her husband used to run the business but did her the disservice of dying suddenly right before a large family reunion (he probably did it to escape the reunion
and a series of gambling debts he had recently racked up…he always enjoyed betting on the bullydous races a bit too much).
Mrs. Tinkerton is not the most friendly of sorts, but she’s quite clever at oddball robotic models (and you can’t get much odder than B.E.N.!)
. She was quite intrigued by him and offered to switch out his body for one with flip-out anti-gravity paddles and thruster jets but I decided that having a floating/flying B.E.N. was not the best of ideas. Fortunately, she had switched B.E.N. off in order to examine him so we were saved from hearing persistent wails of "Why can’t I have anti-gravity capability?!?!?"
Tinkerton installed some replacement LCD pads for B.E.N.s optics and re-wired and re-inserted the eyes. When B.E.N. was flipped back on, he went on and on about he was blind but now he could SEE and how WONDERFUL we were to fix him and how Captain Flint NEVER did anything nice for him and...(you get the idea).
Tinkerton quickly switched B.E.N. off again, noting that the one thing in the B.E.N. 450 models that never
seemed to malfunction was the audio device. As I was paid my respects (and 35 drubloons)
to Tinkerton, I flipped B.E.N. back on because I had no intention of carrying him back out to the carriage. When B.E.N. spotted Delilah, he exclaimed how much he’d MISSED her and he threw his arms around her neck to give her a hug. By this time, evening was falling and I realized that I should have been headed back home much, much sooner. B.E.N.’s constant chattering confused Delilah (and myself)
and we ended up in some back-alleys along the wharves and of course, it would
start to storm at that time.
More later...must rest a bit. Current Mood: drained
|Tuesday, June 24th, 2003|
As I mentioned previously I’ve been rather under the weather for the past week or two and I’ve been too ill to post any logs to this journal until today. I had made B.E.N. SWEAR
again mention "the incident
" which led to my illness, but I’m jotting this down here because I’m still confused about the chain of events and trying to piece together what all that happened.
This downturn of events which led to my illness began back when I discovered Kitty and B.E.N. in the garden a few weeks ago, literally stuck
on one another
. It seems that B.E.N. had made some sort of swillish android dessert called Oil Toffee,
and somehow B.E.N. managed (not surprisingly)
to get the sticky toffee all over himself and later Kitty (one doesn’t have to be a mathematician to know by now that B.E.N. + kitchen + stove = potential disaster...which is why I've learned to ask B.E.N. to bring me things like sandwiches which require no cooking).
Oil toffee (at least the way B.E.N. makes it)
has the consistency and properties of rapid-hardening epoxy glue (note to self: retain a sample and analyze it for possible commercial applications)
. After having a good laugh at the sight of Kitty and B.E.N. stuck in a particularly awkward tableaux
amongst my imported Atamascian lilies, I made Jim go out and separate B.E.N. and Kitty and clean them off. B.E.N. somehow managed to pull his eyes out during the fiasco (a rather disturing mental image!)
when he got his face stuck in the pan of oil toffee. Kitty was hissing, covered in congealed oil, and extremely
unhappy (though I’m sure having me find her in such a graceless position made it even worse)
, and B.E.N.’s repeatedly calling her “Mommy!”did not help matters. Ah...if only I’d have my camera with me that day!
After Jim cleaned B.E.N. off and brought him back down to the basement, I spent a few days trying to get the robot’s eyes functioning again but the ancient circuitry of a B.E.N. 450 model is rather tricky and I was worried I might do some permanent damage to B.E.N.’s optics. I finally ended up bundling the eyeless B.E.N. into the carriage and driving him in to Benbow town to get a robotics specialist to take a look at his disconnected eyes. Although B.E.N. has traveled to Benbow numerous times, he insisted that I keep a running dialogue of the sights along the way (how many different ways can one find to describe the gray, rocky road into Benbow?)
. I was finally forced to flip B.E.N. off when he repeatedly began to shout "HO DELILAH!" which made my mare Delilah keep trying to break into a run and the last thing I needed was another run-in with the Benbow Constabulary involving Delilah and the now-blind B.E.N.!
More on this later...I think that I need some more tea right now. Current Mood: sick
I slipped upstairs (all was quiet, I suppose Kitty
) is down at those shipyards again)
and took a quick shower and shaved and now I’m tidying up the lab a bit (also looking for my missing cello recordings)
. I was tempted to find Sarah (sarahhawkins
) and show her my beard but I didn’t wish to frighten her (plus I’m still not feeling well and didn’t want to field a lot of questions this early)
. Was also tempted to leave the beard, I remembered some of my colleagues (one of my senior professors always had bread crumbs in his beard)
and decided that a beard, while distinguished, might be too high maintenance for me at this time.
The shower helped clear my head and memories are falling back into place. I can only hope that B.E.N. (b_e_n
) has kept his mouth shut about what had transpired in Benbow a few weeks ago. Thankfully, B.E.N. has been oddly quiet this morning and has wandered up to the kitchen to bring me back some breakfast. B.E.N. has said not a word about "the incident"
...however he was
whalloped quite forcefully, so perhaps the blow caused a "skip" in his memory buffer. Ugh...if only I
could forget things so easily as well! Will have to subtly check to see if B.E.N. might have said something to Jim (jimpleiades
). Current Mood: sick
I’ve had a little soup now. Feeling a little better...still rather dizzy, but bits and pieces are floating back to me now. Globes...the Legacy’s FLAG...Delilah...in jail? Micro chips and cookies...memory buffers and jealousy...Jimmy? Cello music...oil toffee...B.E.N. losing his buffer and his eyes...Benbow and the shipyards.
And then something very strange happened. Something odd and violent. Difficult to separate dreams and nightmares from actual events at the moment. I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something or someone important.
I can't believe I've been down here for ten days straight. I’m so glad that my grandfather built a tiny bathroom down here, but it’s too bad he didn’t think to add a kitchen. I always have to worry that B.E.N. might have add petroleum byproducts to my food. Still trying to sort things out. I think I’ll close my eyes a while and listen to the whales some more. Current Mood: confused
|Monday, June 23rd, 2003|
Just checked the digital calendar and realized that I’ve been fitfully dozing, off and on, for the PAST TEN DAYS?!?!?!?!
Well, it’s not really dozing...more like horrible nightmares running over and over like a moebius
strip. I’m exhausted, my throat is hoarse, and I’m still feeling very feverish. I only remember bits and pieces of the past few weeks and none of it makes much sense right now. I'm going to see if perhaps B.E.N. might make a trip to the kitchen and bring me some soup. Current Mood: distressed
Just had a look around the basement lab (a bit hard to do while doubled-over and things going in and out of focus).
Things are more in disarray than ever before and I seem to have misplaced my other cello recordings. All of the other cello holochips have disappeared and B.E.N. just claimed to have no knowledge of their whereabouts. I’ll need to ask Jim. I would go upstairs and drag my cello down to the basement but it is rather cumbersome and a bit too much trouble in my weakened state. However, I do have lots of lovely recordings of pods of singing Orcas Galactici
, so I think I’ll switch over to these. Perhaps if I listen to the whales singing long enough, I might be able to decipher part of their tongue (note to self: dig out those books detailing studies on the speech patterns of the Orca Galacticus).
In fact, I think I’ll play a whale recording now...it will help me clear my head. I think I’ll also have some more tea as I’m still very woozy. Current Mood: groggy
|The past few weeks have been a fever dream...
I awoke early this morning to an irritating electronic screeching of a cello recording as the holochip made its last gasp and then fried itself. I’m not sure...but I have an odd feeling that the same recording may have been playing continually the past week. Everything is still a blur. Pardon me while I have some strong tea and attempt to wake up. Current Mood: confused
|Thursday, June 5th, 2003|
|Difficult Evasion...no... Differential Equations!!
In a physics or calculus class, you have probably already modeled the vertical motion of a particle by ignoring the drag force. The equation of motion is:m y''[t] = -m g
or y''[t] = -g
and the solution was
velocitynodrag[t_] = Integrate[-g, t] + v0
( Read more...Collapse ) Current Mood: pensive
|Sunday, June 1st, 2003|
| I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.( Read more...Collapse ) Current Mood: sad
|Sunday, May 25th, 2003|
| I hate the stars because I look at the same ones without you. Current Mood: melancholy
|Saturday, May 24th, 2003|
The ancient Pythagoreans sought to quantify human experience and knowledge in precise mathematical terms. Here are the numbers that have been figured out so far:
Justice = 4
Marriage = 7
The meaning of Life = 42
Pure Evil = 17Women
= the square root of 2, i.e., completely irrational
!!! Current Mood: aggravated
|Friday, May 23rd, 2003|
| If only I could get to the derivative of you,To navigate your slope just like I used to do,Your sine curve so smooth, so well elevated,Just waiting for me to come and make it integrated.Remember how during our second differentiation,I'd derivate and agitate until I'd reach acceleration?My little pet parabola whom I so much adore,Why can't we have a functional relationship once more?Calculus by Ken Feinstein Current Mood: morose
|Tuesday, May 20th, 2003|
|Monday, May 19th, 2003|
You know…some beings may wonder why I don’t update my Live Journal very often. All right, I’ll tell you why! Because I am now spending TOO MUCH OF MY TIME dealing with nonsense like THIS!
A few mornings ago, I went to hitch Delilah up to take a ride into Benbow only to find her stall empty and my carriage MISSING!
I thought that perhaps I’d simply misplaced the pair. (I blush to admit that I can sometimes be rather forgetful)
Additionally, Delilah, if left hitched up, will sometimes take it upon herself to go a-wandering and return to places that I visit regularly. Using the wireless communicator, I backtracked my steps and contacted the local shipyard, the fish market, the furniture-maker’s, the upholsterer’s, and electronics shoppe, but none
of them had seen my missing Delilah or coach.
I made a quick visit to the sub-basement storage area to excavate my old anti-gravity Kantz Weightless
Penny Farthing High-Seater. One-point-five hours later (you’d think a bicycle with a five-foot-diameter front wheel would be easy to find!)
, I was pedaling swiftly into town (note to self: buy a softer SEAT for the Penny Farthing)
. At the outskirts of Benbow, I was accosted by two Robo-Constables who "encouraged" me to accompany them to the Benbow Constabulary where the Magistrate of the Benbow Criminal Courts angrily informed that my coach had been impounded and that B.E.N. (b_e_n
) and Delilah had been arrested and booked for flagrantly JOY-RIDING
through the town the night before!
The bailiff brought B.E.N. and Delilah into the courtroom (the wardens had a rather difficult time squeezing her in through the side-door)
but neither of the guilty parties looked particularly sorry for their misdeeds. B.E.N. was acting like a celebrity and waving at people seated in the viewing area and Delilah was just happy to see me again (after messily licking my head, she promptly ate the Magistrate’s copy of the New Etherium Bible which is used for swearing-in witnesses)
. Naturally, B.E.N. picked this time to have a memory buffer "interlude" and began blurting out things about stolen treasure, plundered ships, and Captain Flint, mixed with random comments about jealousy, micro-chip cookies, and screwdrivers (I’m not quite sure what some of the last things meant).
Needless to say, NONE
of this sat well with His Honour and the Magistrate proceeded to shout at us for a full ten minutes (I know this because I was focusing on staring at the clock over the jailroom door!)
. I explained that while B.E.N. was indeed staying at my home, he was merely there temporarily as a guest and would be leaving very soon. Upon hearing this, B.E.N. began to weep and wail, saying that he was so sorry and that he didn’t wish to be sent away and then he hugged me, Delilah, the bailiff, the court recording 'droid, and the arresting constables! As B.E.N. was approaching the bench to try to hug the His Honour, I was finally able to tackle the recalcitrant robot and shut him down! I was particularly concerned that he’d have a second "memory burst" and rattle off some of Captain Flint’s horrible expletives in court! The Magistrate then yelled at me for a few minutes more and told me to just "pay the bloody fine and get the hell out of my courtroom!"
Though I was sorely tempted
to leave B.E.N. and Delilah in jail for a couple of days to teach them a lesson, I really didn’t relish the idea of pedaling the Penny Farthing home again (I'm still rather sore and it's difficult to sit comfortably),
so I reluctantly paid the fines -- 3 drubloons apiece for the joy-riding scofflaws, plus 4 drubloons to have my impounded carriage released. B.E.N. asked for (and received) a print-out of the mug shots from his little mis
adventure (I suspect that the booking android, who photographs perpetrators at the jail, took a shine to him.).
It took me a couple of days to get up the nerve to tell Kitty about this (being yelled at by the Magistrate was punishment enough for one day!)
. I have noticed that this is ONE
thing that B.E.N. is keeping quiet about (in fear of me really sending him away).
He had another major buffer episode last night, and I was forced to shut him down temporarily. Jim has been helping me run some diagnostics on the robot to see if perhaps we can do SOMETHING about his horrible (and horribly confusing)
memory buffer attacks. I suspect that his hard drive might be severely fragmented but perhaps some capacitors have also burnt out (much like B.E.N. himself). Current Mood: annoyed
I just realized this morning that I had listed my own email address incorrectly!
I feel rather foolish. If anyone has attempted to send me an electronic missive in the past few weeks, you might wish to try again!
I will also take this opportunity to show everyone the fantastic bumper sticker from the Montressor Space Sciences Institute! I have stacks of them, so if anyone wants one, just ask! Current Mood: embarrassed
|Monday, April 28th, 2003|
|Sunday, April 27th, 2003|
This image will be part of a presentation for my course in Interstellar Phenomena at the Interstellar Academy. It's another figure from my textbook "Black Holes: The Mystery Within." Current Mood: satisfied