Catchpenny Gazette 08.pdf

Number 8 • Summer 2005

Published quarterly by David Burton at 5227 Emma Drive, Indianapolis IN 46236-2742

E-mail: catchpenny@mw.net Distributed in a PDF version designed for printing.

Available for downloading at efanzines.com or at http:///www.geocities.com/cpgzine.

A Noah Count Press publication.

It's not rocket science ... it's not brain surgery ... it's ...

You can download the software at http

://

setiath

/ if you're interested. There's

no cost, and the software has minimal system re-

quirements. You can run it as a screen saver, so it's

processing data only when you're not using your

computer, or you can leave it running in the back-

ground all the time (although this uses quite a bit

of memory) which is what I do. Your computer

processes a “work unit,” and when it's done the re-

sults are transferred to the SETI@home server and

a new work unit is downloaded. The work units

are about 340K, so it takes minimal transfer time

even if, like me, you're still using a dial-up connec-

tion.

The chance of any work unit that my computer

processes being the one that “finds” evidence of an

extraterrestrial civilization is infinitesimally small,

but it seems an interesting way to live out, in a

way, those teenage science fictional dreams. •

D a v i d B u r t o n

I was pretty imaginative as a teenager (probably

came from reading so much science fiction), but I

don't think in my wildest dreams I could ever have

imagined that in the not too-distant future I'd have

my very own personal computer scanning the skies

for signs of non-terrestrial intelligence in the

universe. (Among other things I couldn't have

imagined are being 52 and having grey hair, being

in debt up to my butt and working at a menial job

that I hate every day, or driving a car made in

Korea.) I'd read and seen enough of the “futuristic”

movies from the 1920s and 1930s to know that

predicting the future, even in the short-term, is not

particularly accurate (why don't I have my very

own personal gyrocopter whisking me around?), so

who could have realistically foreseen everything

that the PC has brought about?

And yet every day my computer chugs its way

through radio data, trying to help find a signal that

will indicate non-terrestrial intelligence in the

universe. Using the SETI@home software, my PC is

combined with thousands of others, creating a

virtual supercomputer that analyzes radio data (the

project receives about 35 gigabytes worth a day)

from the Arecibo radio telescope in Puerto Rico.

The SETI@home project is run by UC Berkeley,

and has been up and running for about 6 years. Off

and on I've been participating for almost that long.

Contents

Rocket Surgery David Burton 1

Notes From Byzantium Eric Mayer 3

Found In Collection Chris Garcia 5

The Curious Case Of The Cockeyed

Chronology Dave Locke 7

Epistles lettercolumn 9

Artwork:

Masthead is a detail from a daguerreotype by Lorenzo

Chase (ca. 1850). Cover: Photo by David Burton (I

jokingly refer to this photo as the last time I had “all my

ducks in a row.” It'd be funnier if they actually were

ducks instead of geese…) Page 3: Brad Foster Page 4:

Brad Foster. Page 6 : William Rotsler. Page 8: William

Rotsler. Uncredited art from various dingbat fonts.

revert to contributors on publication.

This issue dedicated to Ellie. RIP, jelly-bean; you were

the best. AMDG

ome.ssl.berkeley.edu

Notes From

The only real limiting factor in unmanned space

exploration would seem to be the time it takes for

distant sensors to send their findings back to the

human operator and the operator’s response to

creep back at lightspeed. How often would a catas-

trophic emergency arise that could not be coped

with by computer intelligence, but would be solv-

able, by human intervention, within a few

minutes? I would think in the hostile environment

of space, where a spacefarer is utterly dependent

on machinery and computers, such a situation

would be unlikely to ever occur.

So I’m content for future space explorers to de-

pend on tools. I can’t say I’d achieve more if I tried

to write without wearing my eyeglasses, let alone

trashed my computer, and eschewed a typewriter,

or a pencil, and scrapped out words in the mud

with a stick. Heck even a stick is a tool. So are

words.

OLDER THAN DIRT

While purchasing cat litter, I realized the world

had passed me by. Sure, I saw cars before they

shed their primordial fins, watched grainy images

of men walking on the moon and drank root beer

flavored Fizzies. Those kinds of things will date

someone. But you really know you’re too old when

you’ve outlived cat litter.

Cat litter as we know it has about bit the dust.

Now where there should be bags of dirt, you see…

crystals. Crystals! Artificial chemical pearls. Is it

any wonder our dear, aged cat can’t abide the new

fangled stuff? Using the box is, after all, a natural

function. Who wants to perform a natural function

paw deep in decidedly unnatural chemical

“crystals?” Dirt is what’s wanted. Clay. Certainly

not anything transparent.

Cats are notoriously creatures of habit. Sabrina

clings to her dusty, clay litter desperately as a geri-

atric author to an Underwood Manual. We rea-

soned and remonstrated, but her arguments proved

Eric Mayer

MANNED SPACE EXPLORATION . ANCIENT

HISTORY ?

I’ve been reading about the troubles with the Inter-

national Space Station, on top of the Shuttle’s

woes.

We were supposed to be building bases on Mars

by now. That’s what I imagined, more than forty

years ago, when I watched on TV Alan Shepherd's

small hop into space. Today the space program is

older than TV was back then and where are we?

Still floating around in earth orbit and not even do-

ing that very well.

I used to think manned space exploration was

vital but technology has changed my mind. It is

grossly expensive, and still unsafe, to put people

physically into the hostile environment beyond our

planet, and given the advances in computers and

robotics, what is the point? Man’s genius isn’t what

he can do with his bare hands, his own meager

senses, but with tools. A human being can’t scoop

up Martian earth in his hand anyway. What is the

difference if a man wields a shovel with the stiff

glove of a spacesuit or by keying commands into a

distant computer? Is it less an accomplishment?

Certainly no less is accomplished.

Byzantium

more pungent. So I continue to search the shelves

for her benefit, finding it more and more difficult

to locate a bag or two of old fashioned cat comfort.

And none of that scented stuff either, please!

I suppose it is what you are used to. There are

cats growing up today who never knew the feel of

clay under their paws, who probably think the wild

woods are filled with expanses of super scent ab-

sorbent crystals. It’s the old timers like Sabrina, set

in their ways, who are keeping the traditional lit-

ters in business. When the last of that cat genera-

tion goes, I suspect the old ways will go with them

and the dirt filled litter box will join the outhouse

in the backyard… just another fond memory.

STOCKED UP FOR THE STORM

With a winter storm on the way I searched the

Internet for egg replacements in baking. It doesn’t

look as if this snowfall will rival some of those we

had last year, but since, already, we haven’t been

able to get out to the grocery for a few weeks it

looks like our veggie meatballs will have to be

stuck together by instant mashed potatoes. (I’m all

out of flax seed and whizzed tofu…can you believe it?)

Mary told me that during WWII rationing in

England folks were sometimes allotted an egg a

week, so I guess we have six weeks worth of eggs,

but I’d still rather not use them in the “meatballs.”

She mentioned there was whale meat. Not in our

stocks, in England during the war. I’m pretty sure I

would be found dead of starvation beside a whole

freezer full of whale meat. Probably some people

would starve to death with a freezer full of my

veggie meatballs. If you want to know about

cooking consult Deborah O’Toole’s Shenanchie’s

Kitchen . Provided she survives reading this.

Mary and I eat minimalistically. My cooking

philosophy is to remove ingredients from recipes

until I can’t taste the difference. Thus our recent

published recipe for "Justinian’s Minimalist Egg

Curry" in Robert Weibezahl’s Second Helping of

Murder . Of course Justinian didn’t have curry, or

tomatoes for the tomato sauce. Or even a can

opener to open the tomato sauce. Our mystery

books are more historically accurate than our

recipes. Possibly just as edible.

I do wonder what people from ancient times

would make of modern prepared foods. Would

they find an instant frozen pizza a remarkable deli-

cacy or bland beyond endurance?

Now Mary is perusing an Internet site about

WWII rationing. She says, someone suggested

“Squirrel Tail Soup.” Yet another argument in favor

of vegetarianism.

SPIDERS IN WINTER

This afternoon, when I paused at the top of the

stairs to look out the window into the snowy

woods, the sunlight caught a dark speck, seemingly

suspended in air, near the corner of the frame.

Bending down, I saw it was a spider, no larger than

comma in Courier New 12 pt.

Even up close I couldn’t make out the web, but I

could see the spider had captured something. The

victim was at least five times the spider’s size, its

exact identity obscured by gray mummy

wrappings. It looked to me like the spider was

victualed until spring.

From time to time, I’ve spotted spiders in the

house and wondered how they survived during the

dead of winter. What could be inside to blunder

into their webs or cross their paths? I haven’t no-

ticed so much as a gnat since late November. Yet,

some unfortunate insect had found the spider’s trap

in the corner of the window.

It’s amazing what goes on that we never know

about. Even in our own homes, other creatures live

out existences which have nothing to do with the

human world. They don’t give the slightest thought

to the mankind’s aspirations and failings, our past

or our future, or the news headlines on the

computer monitor a few feet away. Somehow, I

find the idea comforting. •

Eric's column is extracted from his blog, located at:

http://journalscape.com/ericmayer/

Second in a series

Found In Collection

C h r i s G a r c i a

f Found in Collection were a movie,

the discovery of this edition’s item

would be the scene before the

credits began. In the day, the

museum was housed in a World War

Two era warehouse right at the foot of the

second largest hanger in the United States, on

Moffett Federal Airfield. In those days, we had

three bays of the warehouse and the middle bay

was full of documents. I was given the task of

relocating a section of the document boxes to

another warehouse we acquired, a warehouse

that was once the field’s paint shop. I pulled off

the bottom set of boxes without incident, but as

I pulled the top box off the shelf, a book slid off

and landed spine first on the bridge of my nose.

If you’ve ever been smacked on the nose while

half-holding a box of documents relating to the

building of the first American Computer

Network, you know that the next step in the

comedy is you falling to the floor and the box

landing on your chest.

Computer History Museum has three copies, one

of which is signed to us by the author. But the

book that nearly kilt me was not a piece of

Brunner’s regular work, it was a book of

filksongs he compiled for the 1983 WorldCon.

The book was A Settlement of Old Scores .

I’m not a huge filk fan, but I’ve been known

to throw down in a filk circle once in a while. I

have heard a couple of these songs over the

years, most notably “Obscenesleeves,” but I

honestly had no idea this book existed. It was

another year or two before I actually pulled out

the book and gave it a read. At that point, I

really sat around trying to figure out what

exactly led to it being donated to the museum.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good book, but

why in the hell had it been given to us? I

couldn’t figure it out at all. There are a couple of

robot songs in it, including an excellent tune

called “Only a Robot” which featured a fine

piece of art from Cecelia Cosentini. I thought

that it might have been given to us because of

the song “Don’t Confuse Me With The Facts” that

dealt with the Department of Defense buying a

computer that tells the generals that they must

fight. It’s a great little song, with a fun little illo

by Alexis Gilliland, and it’s almost enough to

justify the donation of the book to us. Still, I

decided to do a little detective work.

The first piece of the puzzle I had to find was

what most of these

songs actually sounded

like. They were based

on songs like “Come

All Ye Tramps and

Hawking Men” which

no one in my genera-

tion has any idea what

If I wasn’t laughing so hard, I doubt I would

have managed to retain a shred of dignity. Then

again, I was alone, so there was no one that

could have possibly seen my humiliation. I

picked up the box and set it on a cart for the

trip. Before I left, I picked up the book that had

so cinematically landed on my nose. Now this

could have been the start of Found in Collection ,

but instead I simply filed it away and kinda

forgot about it until I started thinking of doing

this column.

John Brunner has always been important to

the history of computing since he coined the

term and concept of the computer worm. Every

computer museum I’ve ever been to all have at

least one copy of Shockwave Rider . Actually, The

Found In Collection

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