Quantum Foam

I see the term "quantum foam" every now and then in a poem.

Up top, as good a picture as I've ever seen of what it looks like IRL.

Perhaps "unreal life" would be a better locator....

Stóri Dímon — My First Icelandic Cheese

You never forget your very first.

In this case it happened yesterday so one would hardly think such a thing possible absent Korsakoff syndrome.

I happened on the cylindrical wooden container at Whole Foods, browsing as I was in the cheese department.

Never saw cheese from Iceland before so I studied the box.

It was all in Icelandic and I saw that somewhere along the line Reykjavik was involved — that's the only word I could read.

I bought one.

Impossible to tell what's going inside from the outside.

Still cheeses run deep.

There was only one thing for it: enter.

And so I did.

What I saw is what you see below.

You can't see, though, that the cheese was nicely yielding to my knife.

It's a veined cheese somewhat similar in appearance and consistency to Saga Blue, a mild cheese out of Denmark which is closer to Brie than to the more potent veined cheeses of other countries.

Stóri Dímond is creamy with a faint bite, not nearly as intense as that of Cabrales or the classic blue–veined cheeses of France.

Smooth, very silky mouthfeel.

Quite nice and a definite keeper.

I had my Crack Research Team©®™ delve deeper into the subject of Icelandic cheese and learned that about 100 different cheeses are produced in the tiny nation of 400,000 people.

The team also found an Icelandic company that ships a variety of Icelandic cheeses globally.

There is no question that the Icelandic cheese space is worth exploring in more depth.

I do so like the Ice.

Spam comments

Once upon a time, on an internet far, far away, the first thing I'd do every morning is go into my Comments section and delete on average 10-20 spam comments that had come in overnight while I was sleeping.

In those days boj got about 15,000 page views per day and thus had a far greater virtual surface to present than today, when I happily average 500 page views daily.

The thing is, bookofjoe1 (this is bookofjoe2 in case you hadn't noticed it in the URL) was formatted by me in such a way that the names of the 10 most recent commenters were prominently displayed in a column on the home page.

It offended me that longtime sidebar pals were displaced in favor of all manner of junky and stupidly named occupants, so I got them out of there ASAP.

Nowadays I get perhaps one spam comment a month, most recently this past Sunday on this post (top).

The great thing is that with the current layout, commenters aren't identified on the home page and you have to click the Comments link at the bottom of a post to see them.

Thus, I don't bother deleting them because prolly only a couple people on the planet other than the spammers will do so.

What's old is new again: Kodak Charmera

Wrote Mark Frauenfelder in Recomendo: 

...................................................

The Kodak Charmera is a thumb-sized digital camera that clips onto your keychain and shoots gloriously lo-fi 1.6-megapixel photos and video.

My daugher has been taking amazing shots with it — the grainy, slightly washed-out images have a nostalgic, early-2000s digicam vibe that mocks the clinical perfection of phone cameras.

One catch: without a microSD card, it only stores 2 photos, so buy a cheap card to make it truly useful.

Check out the r/toycameras subreddit for lots of photos from the Charmera and its ilk.

...................................................

How do you spell "retro?"

$34.99.

2 AIs tried to help me: 1 succeeded.

I'll compress two+ hours of repeated rage-inducing TechnoDolt©®™FAILS into the following account.

1. I bought a Das Keyboard 4 with super-loud clicky key press noises because I wanted a blast from the past: I had a Das keyboard 20 or so years ago but tired of the effort required to type along with the noise, and since then I've used silent Apple keyboards.

2. Only when it didn't work after connecting it to my MacBook Pro and asking Perplexity Pro why not did I learn there is a specific version made for Mac and a different version for Windows/PC. I had no idea that was the case. Investigation revealed mine is a Windows/PC version. Much gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair and screaming ensued.

3. Once I calmed down, I asked Perplexity if I could use my version with my MacBook: it replied "Yes," and added that I'd need to remap the keyboard. OMG. That's so far above my TechnoDolt©®™ pay grade I'd have to wear shades to have any clue. I did realize this was not as simple as switching from Google Maps to Apple Maps but rather required some degree of computer savvy.

4. Nevertheless, I persisted. After around two hours of multiple FAILS/dead ends, I gave up.

5. But I was REALLY annoyed!

6. $200 for what?

7. Fortunately for me, the next thing I'd intended to do was go running; the two+ hours of dead ends meant it was now 10° hotter and the sun was beating down instead of the shady run that would've happened two hours earlier. By persisting with the keyboard follies, I could delay my run, which I dislike intensely, even more!

8. I took a flutter on Google Search's recently built-in Gemini AI and asked it the same thing I did with Perplexity.

9. Pictured up top, where Gemini triumphed almost immediately after I asked for help because my Das keyboard wasn't showing up on my MacBook: Check Your Adapter

10. I was using a generic USB-C to USB adapter set-up (below, top) up to that moment. I dug around in my cable drawer and darned if I didn't have the recommended Apple USB-C to USB-A adapter (below, bottom).

11. I replaced the generic adapter with the Apple version and OMG onscreen instructions appeared in the form of the MacBook's "Keyboard Assistant" that guided me to an easy-peasy setup that took under a minute — and my Das keyboard worked!!!

Bottom line: don't waste your money ($17/month) on Perplexity Pro — go with the freebie from Google, which is right there on the main search page and doesn't require you to open a separate app.

'Euphoria' — Season 3

Now that all eight episodes are available I've started binging them, the only way I can keep track of what's happened in previous episodes.

Watching as they appear once a week no longer works for me: I can't recall stuff that happened yesterday, much less seven days ago.

Unlike most series which run around 45 minutes/episode, these are around 75 minutes long, more like a movie.

Thus, one a day is optimal for me, unlike my standard 2/day for most series.

But I digress from my main point, which is that I'm finding this season as good or better than the previous two, a very high bar.

Most reviews of Season 3 have been negative, saying it's way too dark, over the top, and jumps the shark into exploitation and its ilk.

Me, I subscribe to the Mae West view: "Too much is never enough."

Bring it!

'Without matter there is no space or time'

So stated Albert Einstein in 1921.

More: "It was formerly believed that if all material things disappeared out of the universe, time and space would be left. According to relativity theory, however, time and space disappear together with the things."

Up top, the song I'm hearing....

Who wants to be involved in my first-ever crowdsourcing/'wisdom of the crowd' post?

I DO!

joe, you idiot: you're supposed to turn this over to your readers!

Ok, Ok....

Look at the five (5) photos above taken by my Crack Photography Team©®™.

I chose one to appear in tomorrow's 8 am post.

Let's see if you agree with my selection.

Hold on — isn't it important when making a choice here to know what the context is?

Is it about my beloved calico cat Vanta or instead does it have something to do with the two horizontally placed white connectors?

Answer: the latter.

If enough peeps like this feature, I may make it a regular one.

If enough of you hate it, for sure it will become a frequent flyer in this space!

PressReader

First I ever heard of this news aggregator was when it appeared in my email inbox Sunday.

Long story short: It costs $29.99/month for all-access from anywhere in the world and brings you up-to-date news as it originally appeared where it was published.

Tell you what, it's more user friendly and has much greater scope internationally than Apple News+ which costs $12.99/month.

Google News, one of my first stops daily, is free and once you get its "For You" feature up and running, fast and informative.

À chacun son goût.

bookofjoe's Favorite Thing: Multicolor Pen

Sure, we all had these when we were kids but since then the Japanese have taken the concept to a whole new level.

I took a flutter on the one pictured above and below and I'm charmed by its whimsical shape and functionality.

Much better than the ones I remember, it's a ballpoint that writes smooth as silk in red/blue/green and black ink (1 color at a time).

Lagniappe: It's also got a mechanical pencil that appears when you click the pocket clip.

Besides the one pictured above with a transparent green barrel, there's also a less flashy white iteration (below).

Pretty impressive for $6.80-$6.99.

Wait a sec — what's that song I'm hearing?

Kids' Dream Jobs 1920-2026

VibeCheck

Last week while making and posting YouTube Shorts to my channel, I noticed a new feature on the YouTube app: VibeCheck.

I figured this was a riff on vibe coding so I passed it by but then curiosity got the better of me so I made a terrible video and then asked for a VibeCheck.

Up top, the results.

Long AI analysis short: what this feature does is encourage homogeneity and concordance with what most people like.

That's the opposite of what I'm about: I'm always trying to create conditions favorable for a sudden appearance of a rabbit popping out of a hat.

Smoothing down edges to make things go down easier, to mix a metaphor, is the opposite of my intent.

PASS.

Current Weather According to Mark Rothko

The site's collection of 89 paintings are "each tagged with a color register, temperature, and mood so the search engine can match it to your moment, no matter where you are in the world."

Doritos Protein Nacho Cheese FTW!

I was superstoked earlier this year when I read about new Doritos Protein chips.

Constant readers will know that a large part of my diet consists of junk food: always has and always will.

My five basic food groups are beef jerky, instant microwave noodles, candy, popcorn (from BjornQorn) and caramel corn, which deserves its own distinct group separate from candy and popcorn.

After months of waiting, the new Doritos chips have arrived.

Crunchy fun story short:

• SWEET & TANGY BBQ are just that: quite good... but the tangy translated to just a bit too hot for me to eat the entire bag.

• NACHO CHEESE hit the spot: just right.

Of interest: both flavors don't seem nearly as addictive in their protein incarnations as in their original formulations.

At stores everywhere.

Movie Theater-in-a-Box

Very kewl.

New from Anker/Soundcore.

Reviewed quite favorably by Yanko Design: "Anker built a sub-$300 1080p projector with flippable stereo speakers for the price of AirPods Pro."

Nice for travel. 

$294.99.

WindowSwap

Fair warning: there goes the day.

Wait a sec — what's that song I'm hearing?

What's the difference between a hyphen, an n dash, and an em dash?

Lately the em dash has become a popular topic on Hacker News, where techies opine on things technical and otherwise.

It seems that use of em dashes is a tell for something AI-generated.

That may be the case now but you can be certain that it won't be long till the AIs twig to this and stop using this giveaway.

The Entire History of Paris in 37 Minutes

Type.lol — 'Spotify for typography'

Readers have been clamoring for a resource like this since forever.

Your wish is my demand.

Built by type designer Mark Johnson, Type.lol lets you browse 16,000+ typefaces across 1,200+ foundries, follow designers, and build collections.

"Type.lol is a living directory of the world's independent type — built for designers hunting the right typeface, and for buying it directly from the foundry that made it."

Wait a sec — what's that song I'm hearing?

Helpful Hints from joe-eeze: Like buttah

It's faster and easier( and tastier) to wipe/lick the butter off a butter knife than to wash and dry it:

1. Silent

2. No water source required

3. No drying surface required

4. You can do it anywhere without anyone knowing

Extra credit:

When thawing a slice of frozen bread in the microwave, is it faster to overheat it and let it cool or underheat it and let it come to room temperature?

"Butter"

The Death of the Moth — Virginia Woolf

Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths; they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights and ivy-blossom which the commonest yellow-underwing asleep in the shadow of the curtain never fails to rouse in us. They are hybrid creatures, neither gay like butterflies nor sombre like their own species. Nevertheless the present specimen, with his narrow hay-coloured wings, fringed with a tassel of the same colour, seemed to be content with life. It was a pleasant morning, mid-September, mild, benignant, yet with a keener breath than that of the summer months. The plough was already scoring the field opposite the window, and where the share had been, the earth was pressed flat and gleamed with moisture. Such vigour came rolling in from the fields and the down beyond that it was difficult to keep the eyes strictly turned upon the book. The rooks too were keeping one of their annual festivities; soaring round the tree tops until it looked as if a vast net with thousands of black knots in it had been cast up into the air; which, after a few moments sank slowly down upon the trees until every twig seemed to have a knot at the end of it. Then, suddenly, the net would be thrown into the air again in a wider circle this time, with the utmost clamour and vociferation, as though to be thrown into the air and settle slowly down upon the tree tops were a tremendously exciting experience.

The same energy which inspired the rooks, the ploughmen, the horses, and even, it seemed, the lean bare-backed downs, sent the moth fluttering from side to side of his square of the window-pane. One could not help watching him. One was, indeed, conscious of a queer feeling of pity for him. The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth's part in life, and a day moth's at that, appeared a hard fate, and his zest in enjoying his meagre opportunities to the full, pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment, and, after waiting there a second, flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth? That was all he could do, in spite of the size of the downs, the width of the sky, the far-off smoke of houses, and the romantic voice, now and then, of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did. Watching him, it seemed as if a fibre, very thin but pure, of the enormous energy of the world had been thrust into his frail and diminutive body. As often as he crossed the pane, I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life.

Yet, because he was so small, and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridors in my own brain and in those of other human beings, there was something marvellous as well as pathetic about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zig-zagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life, seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspection and dignity. Again, the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity.

After a time, tired by his dancing apparently, he settled on the window ledge in the sun, and, the queer spectacle being at an end, I forgot about him. Then, looking up, my eye was caught by him. He was trying to resume his dancing, but seemed either so stiff or so awkward that he could only flutter to the bottom of the window-pane; and when he tried to fly across it he failed. Being intent on other matters I watched these futile attempts for a time without thinking, unconsciously waiting for him to resume his flight, as one waits for a machine, that has stopped momentarily, to start again without considering the reason of its failure. After perhaps a seventh attempt he slipped from the wooden ledge and fell, fluttering his wings, on to his back on the window sill. The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It flashed upon me that he was in difficulties; he could no longer raise himself; his legs struggled vainly. But, as I stretched out a pencil, meaning to help him to right himself, it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death. I laid the pencil down again.

The legs agitated themselves once more. I looked as if for the enemy against which he struggled. I looked out of doors. What had happened there? Presumably it was midday, and work in the fields had stopped. Stillness and quiet had replaced the previous animation. The birds had taken themselves off to feed in the brooks. The horses stood still. Yet the power was there all the same, massed outside indifferent, impersonal, not attending to anything in particular. Somehow it was opposed to the little hay-coloured moth. It was useless to try to do anything. One could only watch the extraordinary efforts made by those tiny legs against an oncoming doom which could, had it chosen, have submerged an entire city, not merely a city, but masses of human beings; nothing, I knew, had any chance against death. Nevertheless after a pause of exhaustion the legs fluttered again. It was superb this last protest, and so frantic that he succeeded at last in righting himself. One's sympathies, of course, were all on the side of life. Also, when there was nobody to care or to know, this gigantic effort on the part of an insignificant little moth, against a power of such magnitude, to retain what no one else valued or desired to keep, moved one strangely. Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignificant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist filled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange. The moth having righted himself now lay most decently and uncomplainingly composed. O yes, he seemed to say, death is stronger than I am.

[1942]

My Favorite Commercial of the 21st Century

Made me smile every time it came on in 2008.

More like this please!

'The object looked like a black or grey cube inside a clear sphere.' — UAP Hearings

'Fatal Error' — How (and why) the language of the Internet reflects its origins in the crazed, sleep–deprived, hypercaffeinated brains of early programmers

Let's say you've been working on a project for months, every waking moment thinking in code.

Your relationships (if you ever had any) are shot, your mail is unopened, you've gained weight from all the garbage junk food and physical inactivity, you don't even know the month much less the day or date, you don't look so hot and you don't smell very good — but none of that matters.

Now, let's say someone interrupts you to ask what kind of message would be good if email can't be delivered.

Do you think you'd reflect and say, hmmm, how about, "We were unable to deliver your email after several attempts?"

How about "Fatal Error" — how's that sound — does that work for you?

Thought so.

Maybe add "Permanent" to punch it up a bit:

   

And that's how I think the term came into being (in a manner of speaking — I wasn't there but you can bet it wasn't the result of months of focus groups).

And that's all I have to say about that.

HOBO SYMBOLS