Free willy

I've seen Keiko's dork and you haven't.

We were in Newport, OR, and decided to see the famous killer whale in captivity before he was released into the wild in...Iceland.

Suddenly, Free Willy freed his willy.

It was amazing, and it seemed to have autonomous motion (it used it to play with a ball).

"Take a picture!" exclaimed Mom.

I did not take a picture of it.

The image, however, is burned into my mind.

Excerpt

Excerpt from Erik the Scatterbrain, Vol. I

Erik, can I use your stapler?

Sure, here you go.

... ...okay, you just gave me your calculator.

The moon?

I just had the pleasure of talking to a fellow who believes the moon landing was a hoax.

He said, "the logic doesn't work in my mind."

I asked, "by logic, do you mean scientific logic, or are you just 'winging it.'"

He replied, "I can't provide an argument at this time. This is kind of on the spot."

Evidently he thought "it's impossible to generate enough thrust to escape the Moon."

Okay, first of all, the escape velocity of the moon is 2.38km/s. The delta-v (think product of thrust) able to be generated by the lunar lander's ascent module is 4.69km/s.

If that doesn't convince you, and this trumps all moon hoax arguments, the astronauts put retroreflective mirrors* on the moon. Scientists on the earth point lasers at these mirrors in order to gauge the distance from the earth to the moon. Now unless aliens put these mirrors on the moon's surface, you're pretty uninformed.

*retroreflective mirrors are mirrors that reflect light back in the direction from which it came.

Cassie wallpaper

My wallpaper is a blown-up picture of my kitty kat Cassie's eye area. I don't know why I chose to take a picture of her face for this expressed purpose. Perhaps it was due to a personal, subconscious desire to return to some feral state where I'm a caveman and I'm eating the cooked leg of a buffallo. While my cat is watching me.

Download the official Erik Axdahl's Cat's Eyes Wallpaper (1024x768)

I get a certain pleasure out of letting my waste paper basket get fuller and more compressed, and then dumping out a month's worth of bad, failed ideas in one fell swoop.

Constants

There are two constants in this world. One is the gravitational constant.

The other is the fact that old people will never figure out how to buckle their seatbelt in my car.

Many a time my grandparents have been passengers in my human transport vehicle (the '95 Bonneville). Many a time I am serenaded by the same string of commentary and quizzicalness.

"How do I?...Damn...What?...I can't...It won't go in there...Help me...I can't buckle this damn thing." (or "darn thing," if it's my grandma having trouble).

First Contact

David Lee, age 67, was working the midnight shift at SETI's Allen Telescope Array. It was the perfect arrangment for him. Not only did he have some quiet time to read his new issue of the AARP magazine, but he also got to fulfill his lifelong quest to prove the existence of extra-terrestrial life. Most shifts, however, ended with a radio telescope transcript full of random noise.

This one would be different.

At 1:34 A.M., the klaxon of the Intelligent Signal Analysis Node rang, summoning Lee to its terminal. The computer had picked up a pattern of digits corresponding to the Fibonacci sequence and was currently running the subsequent signal through an adaptive language cipher.

Processing...

Processing...

Processing...

...were the words that flashed at him as he felt his heart rate climb steadily.

Then the screen went blank.

Suddenly, a message began to appear on the screen, typed one letter at a time (just like in the movies).

Greetings intelligent Earth culture. We are a civilization from a planet in the constellation you call Ursa Major. We only have one question for you. Do you currently have active cryogenic units?

Lee was a excited, but a little perplexed at the last sentence. He pulled out the terminal's keyboard and typed a tentative

Hello from Earth. Yes, we do have running refridgerators.

After a brief pause, the response came.

Well then, you had better pursue them! ha...ha...ha...

Lee was outraged, and smashed the big, red "End Transmission" button with his fist.

Damn aliens and their damn rap music...

Elf

When I came home from class this afternoon, I had a pristine, 7.1 mega-pixel toy waiting for me in the mail. I figured that I'd like to have a nice, pocketable camera for when I go out to Hampton, VA for the internship.

In with the new (can't get too close w/ the old camera w/o it getting blurry!)...

Out with the old (you've treated me well the past five years)...

Of course, I couldn't resist going outside and playing with the camera's "color accent" feature...

...or taking a picture of my fingerprint.

Erik the Kidd

Kids shouldn't use the word 'kid' to refer directly to other kids, especially when I'm not a kid anymore and especially when you're younger than me.

Big staple

My individual project report for Aerospace Structures is so big (28 pages of stuff), that I had to make the 5 minute drive to work to get a big staple from the big staple machine. My regular sized staples were deflected from my report like an arrow to a iron shield.

Target basket

What's the best method of carrying a hand basket from a superstore such as Target? Namely, what's the best method while still retaining one's masculinity?

No matter how carefully I balance the items in the basket, once I drop it to my side the items shift to one side or the other. This has the result of tipping the unit so that either the bottom corner or top corner digs into my thigh.

My card

My athsma barrs me from enlisting in the military, so hopefully that disqualifies me from any sort of draft as well.

However, just to be safe, my Selective Service card is signed in purple ink.

Two dumb engineers...ONLINE

(after I made a Hades-deserving comment)

skyknight I: ...
SenorPapaBear: am I going to hell?
skyknight I: what on earth for?
SenorPapaBear: NOTHING!
skyknight I: well
skyknight I: let's see
skyknight I: are you in a handbasket?
SenorPapaBear: Possibly, I can't tell
skyknight I: everyone knows that things go to hell in handbaskets
SenorPapaBear: hmm, good point
skyknight I: so all you have to do is determine wheteher or not
skyknight I: you are in a handbasket
SenorPapaBear: It'll take a bit before I figure that out
skyknight I: is the texture of the immediate vicinity wicker-like?
skyknight I: or woven
SenorPapaBear: I do have an inordinate number of splinters...
skyknight I: hmmm
skyknight I: is there a noticable periodic motion
SenorPapaBear: Well, when I look up I see that I'm being carried by a bosomed woman
skyknight I: ok ok
skyknight I: this is important
skyknight I: tell me
skyknight I: is there a red and white checked cloth in the basket?
SenorPapaBear: Oh my God, I'm in a handbasket, aren't I?
skyknight I: no
skyknight I: no
skyknight I: wait
skyknight I: is there a cloth
SenorPapaBear: I see checkers
skyknight I: ok
skyknight I: good
skyknight I: don't worry
skyknight I: you're in a picnic basket
SenorPapaBear: *whew*
skyknight I: it's safe