There’s also fuel cells, where fuel is not burned to create steam to move something, but combined with oxygen in a different way (the end products still being the same) so the electrons shuttled around during this reaction can be utilised as electricity. Think of combustion as oxidation of your fuel, the oxidation meaning that you (among other things) move electrons from the fuel to oxygen. In combustion, unfortunately you can’t access the electrons directly, as they are always stuck in the chemical bonds of the molecules, that’s why we take the detour via heat/mechanical - the steam engine. The fuel cell now separates fuel and oxygen, and thus divides the combustion reaction into two parts that happen at opposite sides of the cell. Those sides are divided by a membrane that does not allow the electrons to transfer across, so they need to take a detour through an electric circuit, in which we can harvest them as electrical power.

I always found it really fascinating that fuel cells are the only other technology than solar where the electrons we use as electrical power are more or less directly generated as opposed to the detour via a generator. Unfortunately, fuel cells are still a very niche technique.

I second that. I travel a lot for work, sometimes a bit obscure places (as in not touristic destinations), and I always try to find the odd tap room or micro brewery. It’s often hit or miss, but stumbling upon the rare gem every once in a while always feels really good. Bonus points if the head brewer is there and it’s a slow day so they have time to chat beer and brewing. And even in the well known areas, it’s fun to sift through the touristy hipster “more-show-than-anything” places to finally arrive at one which has said vibe. Had a week in Portland, OR, and visited about a dozen or so places, and from the over marketed polished hip joint with mediocre beer to the “here’s a bar and some stools thrown into the brewery hall” with absolutely stunning brews it had everything.

I don’t like Mondays from the Boomtown Rats.

Mind, when I first heard it my English was not that good so I really only got the Chorus about not liking Mondays (and who does, eh?). Dismissed the “shoot the whole day down” as an idiom for something which I did not know.

Then at some point much later I realized it’s actually a school shooting.

Nucular, it’s pronounced nucular.

In a former job, I developed “software” (I clicked together some LabVIEW…) for custom designed scientific experiments, which many other researchers (mostly PhD students) would use. Wrote detailed SOPs for their usage, because everything was wonky and in constant evolution, and in some circumstances, data generated could be wrong. So I put a toggle switch with some cryptic acronym on the panel which was told to be flipped in the SOP when users reached the part where following instructions was really critical. The toggle switch did nothing but to log time and date and what user was logged in. When discussing weird data later on, first thing I did was to check whether that log existed, and if not heavily scrutinized the data with respect to errors that could be induced by not following the SOP.

He won’t, because he’s rich. The article is so apologetic already, several paragraphs about how bad this poor guy feels. Bonus points for mentioning he’s a father of four (nothing is mentioned about the victim’s family). "I’m not a thug!'. You disregarded other people’s safety and well being for your own benefit, when being called out, you used unreasonable force. That’s a thug to me.

Vor allem in Pog Form!

“And what is it with airline food?”

Well, the much higher salary ceiling might look nice on paper, but let me tell you from experience that it is eaten up quickly by higher cost of living. I have been fortunate enough to work for short (one to three year) stints in the US, most of that in the SF bay area. A few years after returning (more or less for good) to my EU home country where I now have a government job (which does not pay as well as industry jobs), one of my former SF bosses asked how much he’d need to pay me in order for me to come work for him long term. It was quite tempting, and I did the math back and forth and in the end arrived at 2.5x of what I’m making now, and that is on the low end. I have a few colleagues and friends in similar situations, and the 2x-3x figure is what we generally agree on. Between health insurance, child care, retirement savings and housing, your cost will be dramatically higher than in most EU countries, and this does not factor in differences in Labor rights and potential visa issues.

The SF bay area of course is extreme, but a low six figure salary puts you just above the poverty line there (so people say). Working remotely living in some low COL state might be an option, but then again you will live in East armpit nowhere Kansas…

… and then having carpet everywhere. Sometimes even kitchen and bathroom.

And a “perambulator” is a kid stroller. It was an enlightening moment when I first came across that word in Neil Stephenson’s “Seveneves”, delved into its etymology and then realised why my British friend called the stroller a “pram”. This is just a contracted form of perambulator.

It did not occur to me that there’s actually also a verb for it, so thank you for pointing that out! I love it, and I will use it henceforth!

Also something related I never came to grips with: cat’s breath = the stench of a thousand decaying corpses. Licks fur constantly. Fur = the smell of springtime itself.

My (unfortunately late) void had a scratching post with the top level just at my nose height, so whenever he lolled around there I made a point of taking a deep breath of fluffy freshness.

Also ist Kinder-Ketchup dann … Enkelinnentomatensauce?

The Problem is, being unprepared worked out for them because they always had someone around who was prepared. It’s the same people who say afterwards: “You see, wasn’t that bad, all worked out fine”. Yes, it worked out fine because someone else was prepared and saved your ass. The worst of those people then also somehow turn it into their own achievement, which makes them think like that: “Why would someone carry around $thing$, I never do that and yet I still manage to save the day.”

Unfortunately, being such a person seems to be a requirement to get hired for middle management.

I guess every religion old enough has such kind of loopholes. I know from Roman Catholic that there can be made up so many exceptions that the 40 days of lent before Easter books down to a few days of actually fasting. No lent if you’re travelling (commute to work counts), no lent if you have guests, and of course no lent if you are a guest somewhere else. And Sunday is exempt from lent anyways.

The permit requirement does not apply to kitchen knives, does it? Been some time, but I travelled to Tokio quite frequently for work, and always made it a point to go to kappabashi and get a nice cooking knife, some of the longer than 20 cm.

Selbst bei 30kg gegenüber 10kg eines Biobikes ist das nur ein Bruchteil des Systemgewichts, selbst wenn der Fahrer+Klamotten+Gepäck nur 60 kg wiegen würde.

“All the riches of these lands are mine, all of Gastown is MINE!” Scabrous Scrotus, yeah, sounds about right.

Oh, I have a similar story from my (unfortunately late) void:

Had a big chunk of pork, which I trimmed for the BBQ. All the cuttings (mostly fat) I put in a pad to render (?) the delicious lard. Somehow I forgot to put a lid on the pan while it cooled down, and the whole thing got forgotten in the mess the kitchen was after a nice Barbie and beers with friends. Next morning I woke up, thought “oh crap, the lard”. Went downstairs, first susicious thing: cat nowhere to be seen. Pan on the stove was completely clean. As in straight from the dishwasher clean. The I saw the cat lolling around on the sofa, barely awake, and almost unresponsive. Even shaking his morning treats did not prompt him to come into the kitchen (which usually was the ritual). And then it dawned on me: the little rascal slurped about a whole pound of pork lard during the night from the pan. Did not eat for two days straight, but seemed happy as a clam.

Wherever he is now, I hope he gets all the lard he wants.

Der Optimist in mir sagt, “Na endlich fangen die an, sich selbst zu zerlegen”. Der Pessimist kontert: "Jede rechtsstaatliche Aufarbeitung wird von denen als Hexenjagd instrumentalisiert werden, und es wird funktionieren.’