The Bare Face of Tyranny

The founders of this country were more than just casually worried about the potential abuses of a standing army. We’ve had a standing army for about the last 225 years, and in that time, liberty has been more harmed by the existence of a standing legislature. I’m not sure if that thought is my own, or if I picked it up somewhere. In any case, it’s true.

Independence Weekend

Independence Day weekend was something of a marathon for me.  This, primarily because the wife and thepacked up and headed to Arkansas to visit her relatives on Thursday morning.  I had determined to keep busy so as not to miss them as much.  

Wednesday night, my grandparents and two of my dad’s sisters came into town, staying at my uncle’s house near Athens.  We visited for a good while, and got home at about 11:30; at which time my wife told me that she had an appointment on her way out of town to get the truck serviced at 8:30 Thursday morning.  This of course, necessitated her getting packed that night, and leaving not later than 7:45 the next morning to make it to Decatur on time.  She finished, and got in bed by 1:30 and was out again by 5:30.  I never can understand how she functions on so little sleep.

Thursday night was designated as “camp-out” night at my uncle’s.  After work, I stopped by the local sporting goods store, and got a small air-mattress.  After going home to load my tent and a few extra sleeping bags, I was off to Christopher’s to feed a very grateful Harley the Cat, then straight to my uncle’s.  I had a nice, quick supper of fresh catfish, and headed down to the camp site.  I got everything hauled-in and set-up in about half an hour.  It was by that time, about 7:30, and darkness would be coming soon.  Not soon enough, because it just didn’t seem to want to cool down.  Indeed, this would continue to be the case until about 5:30 the next morning.

We had a good time, sitting around the camp fire, and doing the family thing.  Stories were exchanged, some of them scary, some of them had their scariness augmented by an unnamed camper leaping out from behind a tent and screaming at an unexpected interval.  At one point, I feared our little group would loose cohesion when a certain aunt was terrorized by an unapologetic amphibian croaking in a near-by pond.

At about 10:00, we’d all said good night, and zipped up our tents.  I was alone in mine (save my immensely powerful Beretta Neos in caliber .22 LR), but my cousin, David, slept in a hammock between my tent and the others.  We were all-assembled, quite a crew; some dozen in number with our youngest being around 10 years of age and my grandfather being precisely that eight-times over.  

It was uncomfortable like a camp-out is supposed to be, but not the worst I’ve attended.  Even though it was just a bit too hot, the bugs weren’t a-bugging, it wasn’t raining, and the fire was in no way inhospitable.  At 11:45, my phone rang and I awoke just in time to catch the voice-mail telling me that Ms. Maggie Elizabeth Bailey had arrived in Seattle not thirty minutes earlier, at 7lbs 14oz!  Good news, indeed!

I slept for some time, a bit restlessly at first because I had no pillow and had propped up my head on my lumpy back-pack.  Then, I head a bit of commotion about, pulled on my glasses, and looked out of the tent.  There, I saw everyone milling about, and my 80-year-old grandfather packing it up for the house.  After 80 years, he’d apparently exceeded the lifetime maximum for camp-outs.  I didn’t wish to argue, as he’d earned his rest.  Speaking a testament to his former days as a drill instructor in the USMC; about half the troops followed him up the hill to the house.  They didn’t need any coaxing.  For my part, I was curious to know what was going on, but not so curious to be worth putting on my boots to go investigate.

The next morning, I woke up at 7:00, 7:30, and 8:00.  By that time I’d gotten comfortable, but I could tell it was warming up fast.  At about that time, my uncle Greg was coming out of his tent.  When I asked how many made it, I knew the answer before he gave it: “Just us two.”

As we put the kettle on for some rough camp-coffee (again, NOT the worst I’ve had), he told me that the girls (my cousins Kim, Emily, and Lydia) had been troopers and held-out until about 0530.  They couldn’t take any more after that.  Apparently the cause of the commotion the night before had come at about 0130 when David, Greg, and Kathy were awoken by a pair of foxes playing in the creek-bed just behind my tent.  I asked if he was sure it wasn’t just my snoring, and he assured me that it wasn’t.  If I heard any foxes, I surely wasn’t bothered by them, but David was a bit moved.  By this, I mean he packed his kit and moved it up to the house with all speed.  Had we been in darkest Africa, I surely would have been gobbled-up by a lion, and David safe.

Had cousin David awoken me, I would have like to have taken my flash light and chased the little buggers down.  He suggested the next morning upon discovering that I had the little Beretta that we could have simply exterminated the fox.  I would have done so such thing.  I like foxes, and it would have been nice to catch a glimpse of them in their own environment and earning their living.  David had gotten a fairly good video of him a week or so before, standing out in the open bold as the face on a clock.  In any case, David would be wise in recounting the story to introduce the faintest trace of flair into his narrative.  Something along the lines of him chasing off the mutant fox who was in the process of nobbling poor old grand-dad’s leg off and killing poor cousin Emily TO DEATH should suffice.

After coffee, we had a bit of breakfast, then broke camp.  It was a fine little adventure, and I’ll probably not see the like for many a year.  I let David take a crack with the .22, and I’m here to tell you that CCI “Stingers” are HOT.  High velocity .22s come in the 1100 FPS range, and the CCI Stinger is rated at 1640 FPS.  1640 is much too high for tin-can duty, and standard High Velocity rounds do cycle the Beretta’s slide.

Later on Friday, we re-assembled the crew for lunch at my favorite closed-on-Sunday-chicken-sandwich establishment.  I swear they put an addictive ingredient in their chicken that makes you crave it fortnightly.  After lunch, we headed over to the theater to see Wall-E, which was brilliant.

Friday night, I slept the sleep of the righteous.  

Saturday, I got up and drove to Arab, about an hour away for an IDPA match.  I did terribly, but it was fun.  Saturday night, Greg took us to dinner for his birthday.  That doesn’t make any sense unless you know how generous my family all are, then it makes perfect sense.

On Sunday afternoon, I managed to make it to another IDPA match in Manchester, TN, about an hour and a half away.  I didn’t do too bad here, but I suspect most of the people I was shooting with are all classified better than MM.

On Monday morning, I made it to work just in time; I needed the rest!

Tough breaks

It’s been a really tough year for the conservative movement first with the loss of William F. Buckley Jr., and now with the loss of Tony Snow.  I’ve talked about Tony in these pages once or twice before, and described him as an overgrown boy scout, and possibly the nicest guy in media.  Tony was down-to-earth and as confident as you’d need to be as an adult man playing a flute in a rock band.  Tony was always optimistic and polite.  We’ll miss that.  There aren’t enough like him to go around, and our prayers go out to his family.  His death is a detriment to the nation.

Of Wedding Bells and Close Shaves…

We at the Daft Musings Hall have had a flurry of activity disrupt our normally sedate and sedentary lives of quiet contemplation.  On the Friday after Liberty Day, we drove to Pell City to participate in the matrimonial proceedings of our brother Robb.  This being the second such arrangement for each of the principals, we were amused by the bride’s suggestion that she complete the ceremony with her three-year-old daughter on her hip.  Fortunately for all concerned, she didn’t go through with that amusing plan.  The service was simple and short.  Indeed the pictures drug on significantly longer that the ceremony.  

Both bride and groom managed to get through it without any significant gaffes (such as failing to remember to kiss the bride).

We gifted Robb with an excellent Weber One-Touch grill and the admonition that neither rain, nor snow, nor dark of night should ever keep him from using it.  Also, we threw in a nice Vulfix shaving brush and the most excellent Taylor of Old Bond Street Lavender shaving cream so that the groom could fail at being scruffy on his wedding day.

As best-man, the heavy responsibility of the bachelor party was to me.  Again, this was a simple affair replete with the absence of debauchery.  We arrived at one of Robb’s formerly frequent haunts at about 10:15.  Robb had a couple of Newcastle Brown Ales, and because I didn’t notice the beer list, I had a single Amber Bock (which is neither and amber nor a bock) while we enjoyed our Rocky Patel Vintage 1990 Churchills.  We were back at the hotel by 12:30.  We had a great time despite being menaced by a very tall and excessively drunk man who insisted on standing between me and the exit.  I don’t know what he wanted and he probably didn’t either.  I think that was as close to condition red I’ve ever been.  Fortunately, being sober I was able to outrun and outsmart him by walking around a table.  Mitch Hedberg was wrong.  This dude had legs and was flammable, and he was blocking a fire escape…  Total cost of the bachelor party: $37.

After the reception, we headed for home, and the ToS slept the whole way.

On Sunday after church, we headed out to the Huntsville International Airport for the 2008 Air Show.  The plan was to enjoy the excitement of the Blue Angels.  We got a good deal more excitement than we could enjoy, but the Blue Angels stayed on the ground.  

There was a thunderstorm headed toward us as we got out of the truck.  We talked about it, and Amy ran back about 50 yards to the truck and grabbed her umbrella.  While she was coming back toward us, I heard the air boss on the radio, lining up the next airplane.  He told the pilot that the storm was about 10 miles wide and moving fast, but that the worst part of it had pushed up to the north.  He also said that there was clear weather behind this storm.  The air boss didn’t expect it to last long, so the pilot should hold his position while air show operations were suspended for a few minutes while it passed.

We walked on into the gate, paid our $10, and tried to move on to the exhibits and vendor booths.  As we crossed in front of the six F/A-18 blue and yellow planes, nature betrayed us.  The rain that had been light sprinkles a moment before was now peppering us.  We turned the ToS’s stroller perpendicular to the wind, pulled down her canopy tight, and put the umbrella out to block the wind and rain.  I put my left shoulder into the stroller to keep it from blowing over, and Amy held on to her umbrella like Mary Poppins in a tornado.  

And the wind did blow, and the wind did howl, and all we could do was hold on and laugh.  Yes, we laughed.  The world was coming apart around us, and we laughed.  The ToS didn’t cry, scream, or even look concerned.  People were screaming, but there was nowhere to run.  My guess is that there were over 50,000 people there., caught out in the open  while the storm intensified over our heads.  There was nothing anyone could have done.  The wind and rain were so intense that you couldn’t have seen to run even if you’d have had a place to run.

There wasn’t much lightning, and that which was there seemed to have developed on the east side of the storm after that part of it had passed over our heads.  I remember that during my scouting days we were taught never to sit under a tree during a lightning storm.  Regardless, our first instinct during a storm like this is to seek any kind of shelter.  In this case, that turned out to be the exact wrong thing to do.

Amy swears it lasted ten minutes.  I’d be shocked to learn that it lasted as much as four.  After an eternity huddled behind our umbrella, the horizontal wall of rain gave way to a light vertical sprinkling.  Then the rain stopped, and the sun appeared.  Then the ambulances and fire trucks appeared.  Then the announcer told everyone that the air show was cancelled.  What we would later find out had been a microburst had turned over at least a dozen of the VIP tents.  It was apparent immediately that people had been hurt.  What we didn’t know until the next day was that a 5-year-old boy had been killed when a generator fell on him.  The only available shelter in sight was that row of tents, and ironically they were the least safe place to be.

Again, we are given a somber reminder of how fragile we are, and no matter how much the hippies like to pretend otherwise nature is not the green mother.  She is unkind, unfeeling, unpredictable, and extremely dangerous.  We hope that given the history Huntsville has with the aerospace industry, we get another air show soon.  I worry that with the litigious culture we’re cursed with, it will be many years before we see another.

Happy Liberty Day!

I hereby declare June 26, 2008 Liberty Day.

Now, run right out an exercise your right with the purchase of a new handgun. We suggest a nice 1911, but ours turned out to be an excellent Beretta Neos in .22 LR caliber.

Day 6 – 29 December 2006

The Great Eastward Migration

We began the morning of the trip home at 7:00 AM. Amy had set her alarm for 6:30, but it failed for some reason that we never investigated. My plan was to be on the road by 9:00 AM, and I knew there was but little hope for that. As I said, Marc had lost his phone in the woods last night, and before 8:00 Amy and I were retracing our steps in reverse of the circuit we took the first time. Before we got too many hundred yards from the house, I asked Amy to call Marc’s phone to see if he’d found it. He had done, so we turned around and finished breaking camp.

Once everyone was finished packing, I asked Amy to box-up the cats, and move them to a more secure location. The ground around the camp site was hilly and uneven, and I was worried about the possibility of capsizing the trailer while trying to turn it around. Marc has much more experience at managing trailers than I have, so he helped me work it out. He was very patient and never resorted to strong language, even when I performed the most boneheaded maneuvers he’d ever seen. Ultimately, we were able to turn the rig around quite by accident with no broken bones and no damaged equipment.

In fact, the only person the worse for this adventure was Odin the cat. Though he was securely in his kennel, he managed to pull a claw from his left forepaw. Our host owns a 130 pound Alaskan Malamute who seems to be a very friendly and sociable fellow, though he smells execrably. Now, I must remind the reader that Odin is normally a very cowardly fellow, rather like his predecessor in the Wizard of Oz. Odin runs and hides when anyone new comes in the house. He even hides when the doorbell rings. He normally seems to know that he is safe in his kennel. However, upon being sniffed by this large, friendly dog, Odin made the Charge of the Light Brigade against the door of his kennel. He placed a valiant left-hook to the door of the kennel, and hooked a claw on it. He was swiping so hard that he pulled a claw out of his foot.

All of this occurred before 9:50 AM, because by that time, my Kimber was in Condition One on my right hip, the truck was on pavement, and we were heading into the sun. This reminded me of my summer shrimping. We spent all of our time far to the west of home. While shrimping, you normally work through the night. I remember that we were always happiest when we saw the sun rising over the bow. It meant then, as it meant now, that we were pointed toward home.

We stopped quickly on the eastern outskirts of Little Rock for petrol. I didn’t want to stop for long because my concealed carry permit is not valid in Arkansas. Arkansas state law makes an allowance if you are traveling through the state “on a journey.” I felt that I was entitled to be carrying my Kimber because I was “on a journey,” but I didn’t want to become any sort of test case for the Arkansas legal system. I wanted to be quit of the state as soon as possible.

We got back on to Interstate 40, and continued plying our way east for another two hours. Only once we had crossed the Mississippi River, did I consent to a lunch stop. Amy’s mother had been behind us for the length of the drive so far, but after lunch our routes would diverge.

We feasted on Whoppers and french fries at a local establishment which served that sort of thing. There is a latin phrase, “Ex Africa semper aliquid novi,” meaning “From Africa, there is always something new.” I caught myself wondering what the latin phrase for “From America, there are always french fries,” would be. The proliferation of the simple chip on the North American continent is emblematic of all that is good, bad, and ugly in the world today, in a golden-brown-delicious crunchy wrapper… That is unless they are soggy, cold, and horrible, in which case they are only emblematic of the bad and the ugly.

After lunch, we parted company with Amy’s mom, brother, and two nieces. Amy and I set our minds to the task I’d been dreading since before we left Huntsville. Yes, that task. That most dreaded task of first time RV’ers the world over, emptying the black water and grey water tanks. We located a fueling establishment that was about two miles off our trail and on the road to Tupelo that had suitable facilities. The process was painless. Not enjoyable. Not fun. Not pleasant. But it wasn’t bad. I didn’t even vomit. I simply gritted my teeth, put on my gloves, and got to work. No spills, no messes, nothing. Then I put the hose away, secured the cap, tossed a perfectly good pair of leather work gloves in the trash, washed my hands three times, and let Amy drive us home.

Up until this point, I hadn’t let Amy drive. Not because I didn’t think she was capable (she is, I know it, and to make matters worse, she knows it), but because I didn’t know what to expect. I don’t like not knowing what to expect, so I drove, and I learned most of the things I needed to know. For instance, don’t bother trying to start-off fast. You can’t, and you’ll just burn up a boat load of fuel.

Also, before you make your first trip, go and purchase some oil, transmission fluid, and anti-freeze of the type your tow vehicle will be using. After you’ve driven home from the auto parts store, open your hood. Now, one at a time, pour a cap-full of each fluid you’ve just purchased onto your hot engine manifold. Memorize the smells. I learned the hard way that our truck re-engages the over-drive once you’ve turned the truck off. So, we towed for about 30 minutes in city driving conditions with it on, and lost a little transmission fluid. This turned out to be good, because occasionally if we’d been running at 65 miles per hour for a while, the transmission would get hot, and I’d notice it because of the smell. A few minutes of running a little slower would allow it to cool.

We were running into a head-wind the entire trip home, and measured our burn rate at 7.1 miles per gallon of fuel, the lowest of the trip.

The elapsed time from Little Rock back to home was ten hours, ten minutes. This turns out to be entirely too long, but we were happy to be home all the same because we were sick of hearing that Saddam Hussein would be hanged in but a few hours. After seven days, we had to come back to the reality that both of our vehicles need brake jobs and on the day before we left our microwave oven/range hood detonated. We are also somewhat confused over the utility of beginning any list at number zero instead of one. We know that it will be an expensive new year, but we don’t mind. Unlike Saddam, at least we know we’ll have one.

Day 5 – 28 December 2006

At 09:20, we all left the house in an attempt to clear out for the house cleaners to do their magic. This would mark the single time that I left “the farm” during our stay. We ended up but a sad few miles from our base to eat breakfast at a truck stop. Breakfast turned out to be good, but our entourage was in the number of about eleven people. Any more than six people sitting at one table in a restaurant comes as near to unbearable as I can enjoy.

Later that afternoon, we were privileged to participate in the celebration of Amy’s grandfather’s 90th birthday. I don’t know if I ever have participated in a 90th birthday party before, but I can attest to the fact that 90 is a lot of candles for one small cake. Gifts were minimal, but when presented with one that was obviously a wrapped book, grandpa’s girlfriend boisterously declaimed that she didn’t care what book it was, so long as it bashed George Bush. Grandpa’s girlfriend was too old to be acting like a spoiled child, but she still insisted on so doing. Knowing that it would be dispolite to cause acrimony at grandpa’s 90th birthday, I clammed up. This was quite difficult when Grandpa’s girlfriend insisted on telling the story about the time she smoked weed on her way to a cock-fight… in front of the children… Sigh.

At some point, grandpa asked Amy what-all she knew about “numerology.” I nearly laughed out loud. Fortunately, he never got around to asking me the same question, because I planned to respond with innocent-enough sounding “misunderstanding” about me being terrible at arithmetic.

At some point, Amy’s nieces and our host’s seven year old daughter (Amy’s cousin) went outside to jump on the trampoline. As our Mr. Shiver is fond of saying, “A trampoline is what you buy for your kids when you want to teach them the hard, cold realities of life.” This borders on the most profound statement Shiver has ever made, and he is certainly right. Inevitably, there was the requisite four or five injuries. All of them were accompanied by tears, but none were serious. Eventually, both Amy and brother Marc joined in on the fun.

After the trampoline exercise, the girls went inside to do some modeling clay projects with grandpa, who is an accomplished potter. While this was going on, I decided that I’d had enough, and went outside to set up my trap and shotgun. After not too much time, grandpa left, and brother-in-law Marc and father-in-law Bryan came out to investigate.

We took turns with my Beretta A390 12 bore, shooting at clay pigeons of various sizes. We shot probably no more than two boxes of shells, and unfortunately most of our clays survived even after hitting the soft ground. So, we scooped up all of our empty hulls, and walked down into the field to collect the salvageable pigeons. At the distance we were working, I thought that the tighter pattern of the full choke would help us do better, but it didn’t seem to. I think that perhaps being a beginner, I am going to switch to a cylinder choke, use “spreader” shells, and loosen the spring on the trap arm to slow-down the clays. I’d gotten up to about seventy-percent hits against clays thrown from a hand-launcher, but only when the tosser could manage their part properly.

At some point, Marc and I determined to hike to a nearby bluff and get in a little sidearm practice. In time we collected my wife, her father, and our host. I was carrying two model 1911 pistols in .45 ACP, my Springfield Armory XD-9, and all the spare magazines that I could. By the time we got far enough into the woods, twilight was approaching. Rule number four requires that we “know our target and what is beyond it,” so there was no hand-gunning that night.

We returned to the house after half an hour’s march through mud, mire, and cow pies. There was a roast of beef in the oven that promised to make a good meal after several hours, though we all were hungry at the time. Everyone moved outside to the pile of old wood and brush that had been stacked up behind the barn. Though the ground was soggy, this pile of debris was dry, and in a few minutes it was lit and producing quite a lot of heat and light. It was at this time that several unpainted coat-hangers were produced. Some adult that should have know better untwisted and straightened them.

In a few moments, the three children were attempting their first marshmallow roast. It was unelegant. It was frightfully hot. It was a major miracle that none of the three succeeded in the poking-out of one or more eyes.

It was about at this time that Marc realized that he’d lost his mobile phone on our earlier hike in the woods. In any event, he’d have to go find it tomorrow because it was too dark to go looking now.

After too long, the roast of beef was ready. We all ate to our satisfaction, or at least I hope that we did because when we’d each finished our first course, there was none left for seconds. After dinner, the children regaled us with a splendid puppet-show, featuring a plush pink poodle, a plush duck, and several of their friends. At 22:00, I’d had all that I could stand, made my good-nights, and pushed-off for the camper. I was never happier to be in bed, because I knew that at 07:00 tomorrow, slightly less than nine hours time, I’d be waking up, breaking camp, and going home.

Day 4 – 27 December 2006

Once again, Amy rousted me out of bed earlier than I would have enjoyed. However, I slept really well, and awoke with a clear head. I got cleaned up a bit, dressed, and went in for breakfast. Amy had been inside for at least ten or fifteen minutes. She’d started the coffee, and had begun cooking breakfast for those not still a bed.

Breakfast consisted of some good bacon, eggs which Amy foolishly got into the habit of asking people how they wanted, and I made the grits. The grits were of the type that I normally use, Quaker brand “Quick Grits.” These I cook, according to the measurements on the back of the package, but replacing half of the required water with milk and adding quite a good deal of butter. Occasionally, I will add some shredded cheese and chipotle chili powder. These turned out to be quite good. The coffee was passable, but Amy’s paternal grandfather makes pottery. The pottery is of very good quality, and many of the pieces that I have seen are colored in a cool blue color that I find pleasing. However, the mugs did not seem to hold heat very well, and my coffee cooled too quickly.

After breakfast, Amy and her mother needed to make a trip to Walmart for a few necessities. Knowing how long such a side-trip was likely to take, I declined. Besides, my last trip to Walmart had only been three days previous. I don’t like to frequent the establishment too frequently, unless I need to stock up on ammunition (you can never have too much). Amy’s father and brother summarily disappeared as well. I later learned that they’d gone to Amy’s grandmother’s house to perform a few repairs around the house. This struck me as rather sporting, and a good thing to do.

Thus, I was on my own in fairly hostile territory with little to do. So, I read a little, and plugged in my laptop in the trailer. Someone out there in the middle of nowhere had a wireless access point open and broadcasting. The signal was good, but the through-put to the internet was low. I was able to establish an SSH connection to my home machine, which gave me some assurance that my house hadn’t burned down. After a while, I decided to assemble the “Do All” clay pigeon launcher that Amy bought me for Christmas.

This “trap” is a heavy affair, weighing about fifty pounds. It looks much like an oyster bench, only with a launcher arm in front and a bar protruding aft along the axis of the bench. The purpose of the launcher arm is obvious, but the bar is designed for mounting the device into a two-inch receiver hitch commonly found on the back of pickup trucks. In half an hour’s time, I’d assembled the device, and worked out the mode of operation. The only thing left was to go back to the trailer, and watch the DVD that came in the box. Twenty minutes more, and I’d learned the finer points of operation.

I opened the box of clays that Amy had purchased, and took out three “standard” sized ones. With the included wrench, I loosened two of the three bolts on the trap head that allow the operator to aim the clays. After adjusting the retaining spring that holds the clay on the launcher arm, I locked the arm in place and pulled the release. The clay went soaring out into the empty field about 80 or 90 yards down-range very quickly. I had mounted the trap on a hill overlooking the field. The clay was easily sent 30 feet high, but had to travel down about 50 feet to land. The ground was so wet and soft that the clay didn’t break on impact. I turned the trap head slightly, changed my angle, loaded another clay, and launched again. This time, the clay traveled through a few high tree branches, and came tumbling down. This one did not break either. Nor did the third, so I walked down-range and collected my three clays. Each of these, I fired a second time.

Again, I collected them up, and attempted to launch them. This time, I didn’t have good luck. The first one went wide to the left, through the tree branches, and finally went to its death on impact. I improved my aim on the second target, and hit the tree trunk squarely, creating a spectacular shower of shards. I wondered how high one launched at a high angle would go, so I loaded my last one up, retracted the arm, and lined up. Then I pulled the release, and immediately wished I hadn’t. The leading edge of the launcher arm hit my right leg about 20 degrees out of its locked position. The bird shattered milliseconds after the pain registered in my feeble little brain. There was no one around, so I needn’t have refrained from using strong language. I abstained for the time being, and was relieved to find that no one had seen the incident, though I still have a nasty bruise to prove it happened.

Later that evening, Amy’s father and brother arrived with Amy’s grandmother. The plan was to have dinner, then go outside and light a bonfire. Dinner consisted of a nice salad and skinless chicken thighs that had been severely charred over a grill. Our host apologized profusely, but there was no need. They were perfectly done in my estimation.

After dinner, our host received a phone call that put the brakes on our plans for the bonfire. A distant relative who lived next door had just died in the hospital. This gave me a rare window into the mind of the average atheist. In the mind of the non-believer, death is final. The end. Ultimate. Death makes the non-believer angry because it is human nature to see one’s self when anyone dies. This arms the believer with something that the heathen can never and will never posses: hope.

Day 3 – 26 December 2006

Day three has seen us down from Piggott, Arkansas to near Cabot which is about thirty minutes travel north of Little Rock. We are at the house of Amy’s uncle, this time on her father’s side. The trip was fairly easy, once we managed to get moving. It was past 13:00 before we were able to get on the road. We made one wrong turn, which we easily corrected for by turning around in the parking lot of a large grain silo. Still, including the brief misdirection, we made the trip in three and a half hours.

Upon arrival, we made camp. Amy’s brother Marc helped me get everything properly arranged. Due to parking on an incline, we had to jack up the front of the camper rather higher than I was comfortable with, but it has held so far. Before going inside for dinner, we topped off our fresh water tank, and turned on our furnace. The weather in Piggott was cold. Fortunately, Little Rock was warmer, but I wanted to be sure my feet would not be cold during the night. The cats fared well during the short hop, but they were glad to be out of their kennels and back in the warming trailer.

For dinner, we were served an excellent sandwich of barbecued pork, complete with sauce, on toasted buns, and dressed with shredded cabbage. I was at first dubious about the cabbage, but my suspicions were quelled at the first bite. The cabbage was sweet, and held up well. We were also served a dish similar to the creamed spinach that I am used to, but bearing the addition of artichoke hearts. This was quite tasty as well. To wash it all down, I was provided with an excellent Jack Daniel’s “Single Barrel” Tennessee whisky that Amy’s step-father had sent along as a gift to Amy’s uncle.

Everything was going quite well, until my host started talking about politics. Now, to be clear, I think that it is most unsporting, dispolite, and rude to verbally spar with your host. This particularly when you’ve been invited into his house, you’ve been there less than two hours, and he’s just served you a nice meal and his best whisky. With this in mind, I offered that we should perhaps talk about wine or literature again. He wouldn’t hear of it, and since I suspected that he is rarely taken to task, I did so with much pleasure.

Within ten minutes, he’d defended communism, socialism, jihadis, and abortion. Within twelve minutes, he’d lost his cool, and was quite yelling at me. In this respect, he hadn’t a chance. Many people, as they drink more, get louder and more boisterous. I am the opposite. I go all quiet and introspective. I think that this helped me keep my cool. In any case, it infuriated him. At the end of half an hour, I was a crypto-racist, a sexist, a bigot, a homophobe, a fascist, and smiling broadly with the knowledge that I’d bested him. I knew he would try to bait me several more times in the coming days, but I felt that I’d given him a significant enough thrashing to ignore any future attempts. After all, in only a few minutes time, he’d turned into a furious, raving lunatic, and I had remained calm and dispassionate. If he wasn’t embarrassed, he should have been. He didn’t even have the decency to laugh at my “Clinton Library and Massage Parlor” joke.

For those who don’t know, a “crypto-racist” is a person whose racism is so deep and hidden that even he doesn’t know that he’s really a racist. In layman’s terms, any white male will do, but conservative ones especially.

That night, we gave Amy’s mother a berth in the travel trailer to prevent her having to hire a hotel room. I think that she was a little dubious at first, but she slept on the fold-out couch that I suspect is the most comfortable berth on board. She was happy to have a warm place to sleep, since her father in Piggott insisted on turning off the heat before bed. I am normally given to enjoy cold weather, but is was abominably both cold and wet in Piggott. It would have been most miserable to have slept that cold. She was an excellent guest, and comported herself admirably as always. For my part, with a belly full of barbecue and fine whisky, I slept the most refreshing and satisfying sleep of the trip thus far.

Day 2 – 25 December 2006

Christmas day arrived noisily. Freya and Odin were playing rather roughly, and it was raining with some force. Again, Amy woke me saying something about breakfast that she knows I never eat, and being “social” which is something that causes me to use strong language when I’m trying to get a nap. At least it was eight in the morning this time, I’d had an extra hour from yesterday, but was still looking for more.

A cup of coffee was just the thing to curb the strong language, but I had to walk across a cold floor to make it. Life is hard sometimes. Going inside the house, and being “social” got me a pumpkin biscuit for my trouble. Though, I don’t normally eat breakfast, it was there and I would have been unforgivably rude to turn it down.

At ten, the family started arriving in the form of cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and the like. At around half ten, presents were opened and photographs were snapped. Lunch was served at just past twelve, and was excellent. Several smoked hams and turkeys were produced and eaten with gusto, as were various side dishes and desserts. Many of the desserts were pumpkin based, and reminded me of the pumpkin beer that I once brewed. I used an all-grain english ale kit, with two medium sized pumpkins (around eight pounds each). I sliced the pumpkins into small three or four inch wide strips, and roasted them well in the oven. After the pumpkins cooled, I removed the rinds, and mashed their meat. At mash-in time, I added the mashed pumpkin. Using Whitbread’s ale yeast, I bottled-off four and a half gallons of 7.5% pumpkin beer that turned out quite well.

Despite the convivial atmosphere, I refrained from retelling this anecdote during lunch. About the only thing that I could find to complain about during this whole affair was that there were too many people and too few comfortable places to sit. This is a small and meaningless complaint that I would have forgotten about by tomorrow had I not taken pains to write it down.

After lunch, I was unable to keep my eyes open for longer than about twenty minutes. I boldly walked out of the front door, through the blustery wind and rain, braving the ten pace march to the travel trailer, cranked up my space heater, and had too short a nap. Once again, my wife seemed to be plotting against me getting the sleep that my body seems to want. On this day, I never cranked the truck, thereby defeating my insidious enemy. I know that he was waiting for me because it has been raining all day. I have every suspicion that he will try to attack me again tomorrow, either whilst breaking camp in Piggott or remaking camp in Cabot.

Day 1 – 24 December 2006

The last thing that Amy said at the end of day zero was that her Brother, Marc, was getting up at 6 am to prepare for church, and that she though that was a good time. I was most unsatisfied with this arrangement, but declined to voice my opinion at the time.

The night was a little chilly, owing mostly to my dread fear of running the twin 30 pound propane tanks dry. We had a little space heater which more or less failed to take the nip from the air. We had plugged into a spare electrical outlet in the garage of Amy’s uncle Duane, however this outlet is a standard household 15 ampere circuit. The travel trailer wants one rated to 30 amperes, but will run on 15 provided that you don’t overload it.

I rolled out of the bunk at a little past seven with some prodding from Amy to go inside and take some breakfast. I don’t normally take breakfast. I made a cup of coffee in the trailer whilst gathering up the various things I’d need in order to go to church. Once I’d properly showered and dressed, I returned to my almost too-cold coffee cup, and drank it dry.

We left Duane’s house with Amy’s brother Marc and his two daughters Emma and Hanna, in a frantic hurry at four minutes past nine, late for church. Piggott is not a big town, and the church is only a few minutes away. When we arrived at the church, we were the only ones there. I suspect that I was the victim of a timing fudge factor from my mother-in-law, designed to insure Marc would have the girls ready in plenty of time. I could have easily taken an extra hour of sleep that I felt I needed and was entitled to.

We rolled along to the house of Amy’s maternal grandfather. He seems to be a good old man, with many stories to tell. On previous trips I’ve known him to smoke a pipe, but this time it seems to be absent. Some fifteen years previous, he was the owner and proprietor of a doughnut shop in Piggott town square. Upon pulling in to his driveway, Amy directed me to not block-in his truck. So, I backed our truck into the spot that I knew I’d parked on several previous visits. Upon exiting the vehicle, I noticed my new enemy, mud, completely slicking over the treads of my rear tire. I knew we were stuck again. When we left for church at half ten, I let Amy drive, and yes we were stuck. We quickly switched vehicles, and made church on time.

After church, lunch was had at the local Chinese establishment, the treat of Amy’s absent step-father. It was sufficient, and I avoided eating too much of it.

Then we returned to the Mowery’s house to attempt to extricate my truck that we had backed too far down the hill in search of ground firm enough to give us a running start on. Marc fished about in the garage, looking for some rope or chain to give us enough length to fasten a come-along to a near-by tree. After about fifteen minutes, we were properly hitched-up to the tree, with our tow-line properly tensioned for the extraction. I straightened the front wheels, and applied steady pressure to the throttle, while Marc cranked the come-along to prevent me losing ground. Using this method, I was again on firm ground within 30 easy seconds.

Afterwards, Amy and I made the short trip to the Kennett, Missouri Walmart to secure a few extra provisions. Among these were a larger space-heater and a bottle of automatic transmission fluid, as we appeared to have burned-off a small amount in the journey. We also had to take fuel for the truck, and measured our burn-rate at 7.8 miles per gallon across the freeway.

The night ended with Duane showing us a slide-show of pictures from his recent mission trip to the Ukraine. Duane had family who immigrated from Ukraine in the early 1900s, before communism took hold. The focus of his mission work was the funding and assistance of several state-run orphanages there.

I would like to interject at this point that many of the people of Piggott, Arkansas are very poor. Much of the housing is small and dilapidated. Many of the people here are on government assistance, of which they are grateful to receive. Most of them, from what I am able to tell are able to get help when they need it. Most everyone that I have seen, selflessly offers help when they’ve got it to offer. This appears to be a part of the rural south that is in a desperate situation. There isn’t much industry here to be had with the exception of farming. There appears to be somewhat of a drug problem, and many of the young people seem to be despondent. But Piggott is in America, and there is hope.

The situation in the Ukraine is much more dire. While the people of that land are better-off than they were during the reign of communism, it is taking rather a long time to improve the situation. We have much to be thankful for, living in this country.

Day 0 – 23 December 2006

And so it happens that 23:23 CST, we find ourselves some few hundred miles from our home with our bed, pillows, whisky, and felines in tow. We are quite ready to be rid of day 0.

We have learned some valuable lessons about the management of a twenty-five-foot long recreational vehicle that we should have been unable to learn any other way. The first lesson is this: Mud is your enemy. Unfortunately for you, he is indomitable. You cannot win, at least not without a protracted battle, the end of which will find you swearing angrily, and he none the worse for wear.

The second lesson is this: Wrong turns can be very difficult to remedy.

Our tow vehicle, the 1998 Dodge Ram 1500, equipped with the smaller of the two V8 engines offered that year and weighing in at 5.2 litres was sufficient to the task, but only just. I believe that we have intersected the maximum useful tow weight of our vehicle. We think that perhaps a diesel powered coach may offer a better solution than the weighed and measured 7.4 miles per gallon of mid-grade gasoline this trip consumed.

Another thing we learned about towing a large trailer across country (and through a large metropolitan area, such as Memphis), is that you get very close to God. I don’t think that any ten-mile stretch of road between Harvest, Alabama and Piggott, Arkansas went un-prayed-over. For the first 50 miles or so, you watch your mirrors, gauges, and the road before you. You ride for miles behind the slowest vehicles, in sheer terror of simply changing lanes. At some point, you take the chance. Lanes are changed. No cars are crunched. No metal is bent. No ambulance is needed. No tow truck is called.

Eventually, you sort things out, and manage well enough until some new texture of highway or some disreputable turn crops up to joyously reinvigorate your humility. Nevertheless, we embarked at 13:30, and hobbled as we were, pulling a combined truck and trailer weight of six tons, we made 360 miles. I do not have my copy of “Roughing It” available for reference, but I believe that our Mr. Twain took no less than eighteen days to make the same distance on his ride to Carson City.

The cats, for their part, performed well enough, and did manage to sleep quietly for part of the journey. Odin was never happy, but then again he has not been happy at any point during the last three weeks that we have used to train him up for the trip. Freya held up admirably, and barely made a peep the whole trip.

The whisky, in this case a fresh bottle of Johnnie Walker black label also performed well. I don’t know why, but I find both whisky and good beer go down especially well when consumed from a cold enameled metal camp cup.

Our adventureous adventure.

Last week, Amy and I bought a 25-foot travel trailer. The plan was to take the thing to Arkansas for Christmas, packing bed, pillow, whisky, and even the cats. We’ve spent every spare minute over the last 5 days getting the thing set-up and tested in our back yard.

So, today is the day we begin. We’d planned to be on the road by now, but unfortunately our adventure started before it began.

Whilst turning the trailer around in our yard, I managed to get the bugger stuck in the mud created during the last two days of rain. It took an hour and a half, plus an interstitial trip to Walmart for hydraulic jacks, but we freed the truck. For dramatic effect, I am covered in mud from head to toe. Fortunately for me, the intrepid Mr. Shiver is on the way to assist with the realignment and subsequent removal of the trailer with his newer (and more suited for off-roading) truck. Hopefully this will be the easy part. The hard part will be me being stuck in Arkansas for Christmas.

The holiday season is upon us.

I made my annual trip to the mall today. In fact I made it to both malls in Huntsville. I don’t need to execrate the mall for being a miserable place. It usually is, but sometimes it has a novel aspect.

Today, I purchased a paltry present for my pretty partner. It was exactly what I was looking for, and it appeared to be the last one available in town. I then proceeded to pound the pavement but a few steps to the gift wrapping establishment, hastily molded in the middle of the mall. Much to my surprise, the place was manned entirely by professional hockey players from the local club. I’d like to thank a Mr. Monkman of the Huntsville Havoc for doing a fine job. My wife’s gift is wrapped well enough, and even if it does look like a hockey player wrapped it, it looks exactly as bad as if I’d done it myself. Now, of course, it has the benefit of coming with an entertaining story.

As I was leaving the mall, I decided in a moment of weakness to purchase a chocolate malt from two Vermont hippies. This isn’t normally the sort of thing that I’d do, except I really wanted a chocolate malt. You see, in Alabama, it is almost always mild during the month of December. We have the requisite cold-snaps and arctic blasts of course, but mostly the daytime weather is in the upper 60s through much of the state, and the night time lows are normally in the mid 40s. So, it is almost always much too warm to run the furnaces in the mall as high as the people who run the mall think they should. As a consequence, if you’re wearing much more than shorts and a T-shirt, the typical Alabama shopping mall is unbearably hot in December.

Besides really wanting a malt, I was of course armed to the teeth, which I knew would annoy the Vermont hippies if they ever found out. This gave me some sense of satisfaction, but it didn’t last long. They were out of chocolate ice cream. Okay, so vanilla? Sure. It was no matter that there were not less than four ice-cream sellers behind the counter. Nor was it any matter that I was the only customer they’d apparently had all day. When my vanilla malt milk shake arrived ten minutes later, the cup and lid were both dripping with sticky vanilla over-spray. Then these peace loving, environmentally friendly, and socially conscious Vermont hippies charged me $5.37 for $0.50 of dairy, $0.0001 of refined sugar and powdered barley malt, and a $0.02 plastic cup.

The way things should be…

It is both proper and fitting for a man to occasionally enjoy a good pipe or a fine cigar and a nice nip of whisky. These are both noble, manly pursuits.

It is also both proper and fitting for a man’s wife to nag him unceasingly for doing so.

More good news.

I’d like to wish Nathan hardy congratulations for bagging his first bull elk. Nathan took this beastie at a range of 15 yards. It is impressive that he was able to get that close to the elk, and even more impressive that he was able to keep his wits about him and attend to business once he did.

A new addition.

Amy and I would like to take this opportunity to welcome Cassandra Evelyn Shiver into the world! 7 lbs, 3 oz. in weight and 21 inches in length. Delivered at around 3:00 November 14th at Huntsville Hospital. Mother and child are doing well. Father is giddy, and justifiably so.

Congratulations to Chris and Karen, and welcome to the world, little one. May you lead a blessed, happy, and long life!

This is one of the most irresponsible things I’ve ever seen.

Blogger’s alleged “Help” for what to do if your mom discovers your blog.

I’ve been on the web since 1994. Before that, I used BBSs. In the period before about 1997, the on-line world was much like the small-town-USA of the 1950’s. Everyone knew everyone for the most part, and for the most part, nobody locked their doors. Today, it is a different story. There are too many people about, and a shocking number of them have ill intentions.

I can’t even begin to inventory the reasons that Bolgger’s advice is bad. I would have thought many of them were common-sense, but here we are. Children have been hiding things from their parents since there have been children and parents. By helping to make that easier for kids online, Blogger is opening the door to all sorts of potential dangers. Identity theft. Giving away too much personal information to sexual predators. Possible indications of drug abuse or impending violent behavior.

I am not a parent. However, I understand that until children become adults, their parents are responsible for their safety and well-being. Privacy and trust are crucial, but they are subordinate to children’s safety and well-being. If for instance, a teacher, congressman, or known sex criminal molests your child, your respect for that child’s privacy is meaningless.

Responsibility means more than simply bearing the consequences of one’s actions after-the-fact. It means doing everything in your power to prevent catastrophe in the first place.

By providing this information to children, Blogger is intentionally and recklessly endangering the safety and well-being of minors. Blogger in general and Biz Stone specifically should be ashamed of having written published this article. I encourage the author and publisher alike to consider the consequences of their advice and remove the article.

It is allergy season in North Alabama.

And when allergy season arrives, I start taking Claratin and Sudafed to help convince my body that it does, if fact need to keep breathing, no matter how many unpleasant things are floating in the air. This is generally very effective in that I do manage to keep breathing. It does unfortunately carry the unfortunate side effect of making me constantly sleepy. I can never seem to get enough sleep during allergy season.

Now, I’m a tinkerer by nature. I like to take things apart, and with the exception of the sandwich maker, I typically like to put them back together again. Some things I modify to suit a better purpose, and some things get reprogrammed.

But what I really, really wanted to do at 06:45 this morning was to reprogram my alarm clock by means of two .45-caliber, 230-grain, Jacketed Hollow Point slugs.

Simplicity is the hallmark of truth.

Those were the words of introduction from my first Computer Science instructor, Dr. Doran, on the first day of the first computer class I ever took.

Lately, I’ve been reading up on the Ruby programming language. I’ve done a few web projects with Ruby on Rails, but those have all been more like works of journalism (and sometimes, outright plagiarism) than technical prowess.

One of the things that Ruby and Rails promote is the idea that they will both do a lot of work for you for free if you simply follow their conventions. To clarify, here is a small snippet from the Pragmatic Programmers book Programming Ruby:

Ruby uses a convention to help it distinguish the usage of a name: the first characters of a name indicate how the name is used. Local variables, method parameters, and method names should all start with a lowercase letter or with an underscore. Global variables are prefixed with a dollar sign ($), while instance variables begin with an “at” sign (@). Class variables start with two “at” signs (@@). Finally, class names, module names, and constants should start with an uppercase letter.

Just a few pages before this paragraph, we find the following sentence:

Ruby syntax is clean.

This it says, is because you don’t have to end each statement with a semi-colon.

I am now convinced that Ruby is a Japanese plot to make me crazy. The trouble with all of these little “conventions” is how do you remember them all? I guess part of my problem is that I don’t write enough code to burn them into my brain. That is probably why I’m most effective writing Perl. There aren’t a whole lot of rules, and the ones that are there can usually be ignored, forgotten about, or broken with wild abandon. Not knowing enough about Perl to write it well or efficiently is usually not an impediment to getting something done with it.

Sun High-End Server Administration Part II

Intro

When we last left-off talking about the E25k, I’d gone over the questions of what is the thing, what’s goes into it, how much does it weigh, how fast is it, etc. Hopefully, this time around, I’ll be able to explain a in a bit more detail about how you run the thing. I’m not going to tell you how to do the initial platform setup. Normally, Sun charges customers quite a bit of money for this service. I’ve done it three times without them, but I like their hardware, and I want to see them continue to operate as a business. So, if you want to know how to get away without paying Sun for the install, good luck to you, but I won’t help.

The Sun Documentation

Some times, Sun likes to hide things from me. The dynamic nature of the World Wide Web is its most cussed feature. Everything can change in the blink of an eye, and nothing is ever where you saw it last. The normal Sun document repository only has documentation for SMS versions through 1.2 in the obvious place. The current version is 1.6. No mention is even made of the E25k.

Lest you fall into maddening despair, the documents in question are located here for now, and are available in many languages which you don’t speak.

Domains

One of the things about domains that I forgot to mention last time is what they aren’t. Domains are not virtual machines like VMWare. They are not software partitions like Sun’s Solaris 10 Zones. Domains are more like hardware partitions. Each domain requires that you dedicate hardware resources (like SBs, IO boards, network cards, disk drives, etc) to that domain, and only that domain. You cannot share a 4 CPU System Board between two domains.

Also, the 15k – 25k systems handle domains a little differently from the E10k. On the E10k, you could create up to 16 domains. Each domain had some associated house-keeping data on the SSP that it needed, including a firmware image. This firmware image had to be generated at the time of domain creation, and sometimes you had to call Sun to get this generation to work correctly.

The 15k – 25k systems are capable of 18 domains, all of which are configured at the factory. You never have to “create” a domain. It already exists. This is achieved by the SMS software creating firmware images and the other associated house-keeping stubs for domains labeled A – R. Again, these domains always exist, even if there are no boards assigned to them. Obviously, you can’t boot a domain that doesn’t have the necessary hardware (System Board, IO Board, Network Card, SCSI Interface connected to at least one hard disk).

I1 and I2 networks

There are two built-in networks that are internal to the platform. They are called the I1 Management Network and I2 Management network. I1 is used for the System Controllers to communicate house-keeping data with the individual domains. Each SC has an IP address in the I1 range, and each domain has an IP address in the I1 range. The I2 network is reserved for house-keeping data that passes from System Controller to System Controller. Each of the two SCs has an IP address in the I2 range. It is sufficient to use RFC 1918 Private Addresses for both of these ranges.

The Sun Fire E25K/E20K Systems Site Planning Guide contains a nice worksheet for you to plan your network and domain layout.

On to the actual commands!

Platform control is performed by logging onto the System Controller via Secure Shell (SSH), and issuing the appropriate commands. This shouldn’t come as any surprise to those of you who are already UNIX systems people, but the E25k is a UNIX system. You don’t get a GUI because you really don’t need a GUI to get your work done. The hostview GUI that was available on the E10k is gone. It never worked well to begin with.

showplatform

As I have said before, domains are collections of System Boards and IO Boards. We will use two main commands to view platform status, showplatform and showboards.

The output from showplatform is quite verbose, so I will trim some of it:

$ showplatformPLATFORM:=========Platform Type: Sun Fire E25K

CSN:====Chassis Serial Number: xxxxxxxxxx

COD:====Chassis HostID: xxxxxxxxxxxxxProc RTUs installed: 0PROC Headroom Quantity: 0Proc RTUs reserved for domain A: 0Proc RTUs reserved for domain B: 0Proc RTUs reserved for domain C: 0...

Available Component List for Domains:=====================================Available Component List for domain spiderman: No System boards No IO boards

Available Component List for domain batman: No System boards No IO boards...

Domain Ethernet Addresses:==========================Domain ID   Domain Tag        Ethernet AddressA           spiderman         0:0:be:ff:ff:58B           batman            0:0:be:ff:ff:59C           superman          0:0:be:ff:ff:5aD           hulk              0:0:be:ff:ff:5bE           zaphod            0:0:be:ff:ff:5cF           tardis            0:0:be:ff:ff:5dG           montmorency       0:0:be:ff:ff:5eH           yoda              0:0:be:ff:ff:5fI           tick              0:0:be:ff:ff:60J           spoon             0:0:be:ff:ff:61K           wallace           0:0:be:ff:ff:62L           gromit            0:0:be:ff:ff:63M           crabtree          0:0:be:ff:ff:64N           zelda             0:0:be:ff:ff:65O           link              0:0:be:ff:ff:66P           mario             0:0:be:ff:ff:67Q           peach             0:0:be:ff:ff:68R           -                 0:0:be:ff:ff:69

Domain configurations:======================Domain ID   Domain Tag        Solaris Nodename       Domain StatusA           spiderman         spiderman              Running SolarisB           batman            batman                 Running SolarisC           superman          superman               Running SolarisD           hulk              hulk                   Running SolarisE           zaphod            -                      Keyswitch StandbyF           tardis            tardis                 Running SolarisG           montmorency       montmorency            Running SolarisH           yoda              -                      Keyswitch StandbyI           tick              tick                   Running SolarisJ           spoon             -                      Keyswitch StandbyK           wallace           wallace                Running SolarisL           gromit            gromit                 Running SolarisM           crabtree          -                      Powered OffN           zelda             zelda                  Running SolarisO           link              -                      Keyswitch StandbyP           mario             mario                  Running SolarisQ           peach             peach                  Running SolarisR           -                 -                      Powered Off

The most interesting parts of this are the second section and the last two sections. The second section lists the chassis serial number. This is very useful when you have to call Sun about a problem with your E25k. The second-to-last section shows that there are Ethernet MAC addresses assigned to a
ll domains A – R, even though domain R hasn’t really been configured.

The last section shows the status of each domain, its domain “Tag,” and its Solaris hostname. The domain tag is an alias to the domain letter name. It’s not always easy to refer to the domains by their letter name, so we can name them something more convenient with the addtag command. There is no requirement that the domain tag be the same as the Solaris nodename. We could, for instance change the domain tag of domain “A” to “production” and the Solaris nodename column would still show “spiderman.”

showboards

Often, it is helpful to find out which system boards are assigned to which domain. We have the showboards command for that:

$ showboardsRetrieving board information. Please wait.Location    Pwr    Type of Board   Board Status  Test Status   Domain--------    ---    -------------   ------------  -----------   ------SB0         On     CPU             Active        Passed        tickSB1         On     CPU             Active        Passed        marioSB2         On     CPU             Active        Passed        peachSB3         On     CPU             Active        Passed        zeldaSB4         Off    CPU             Assigned      Unknown       spoonSB5         On     CPU             Active        Passed        gromitSB6         On     CPU             Active        Passed        wallaceSB7         Off    CPU             Assigned      Unknown       spoonSB8         On     CPU             Active        Passed        montmorencySB9         On     CPU             Active        Passed        tickSB10        On     CPU             Active        Passed        tardisSB11        On     CPU             Active        Passed        montmorencySB12        On     CPU             Active        Passed        tardisSB13        On     CPU             Active        Passed        montmorencySB14        On     CPU             Active        Passed        hulkSB15        On     CPU             Active        Passed        supermanSB16        On     CPU             Active        Passed        batmanSB17        On     CPU             Active        Passed        spidermanIO0         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        tickIO1         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        marioIO2         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        peachIO3         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        zeldaIO4         Off    HPCI+           Assigned      Unknown       crabtreeIO5         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        gromitIO6         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        wallaceIO7         On     HPCI+           Assigned      Unknown       spoonIO8         On     HPCI+           Assigned      Unknown       supermanIO9         On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        tickIO10        Off    HPCI+           Assigned      Unknown       yodaIO11        On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        montmorencyIO12        On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        tardisIO13        On     HPCI+           Assigned      Unknown       zaphodIO14        On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        hulkIO15        On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        supermanIO16        On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        batmanIO17        On     HPCI+           Active        Passed        spiderman

Sometmes, it is more helpful to have this table sorted by domain name, so with a little bit of finesse, we get the following:

$ showboards | grep "^SB" |awk '{print $NF, $1}' | sortbatman SB16gromit SB5hulk SB14mario SB1montmorency SB11montmorency SB13montmorency SB8peach SB2spiderman SB17spoon SB4spoon SB7superman SB15tardis SB10tardis SB12tick SB0tick SB9wallace SB6zelda SB3

Dynamic Reconfiguration

We can see from this output that there are several domains with multiple SBs assigned. This is one of the strengths of the platform. Using Dynamic Reconfiguration (DR), we can do things like add CPUs and RAM to a system that is bogged down, while the system is running. By adding IO boards, we can add multiple paths to disks, or extra network interface cards, etc.

These operations are accomplished through three commands: addboard, deleteboard, and moveboard. Here is the output of a moveboard command that combines the functionality of deleteboard and addboard. In this case, we will remove the board from domain G (montmorency), and add it to domain A (spiderman) while both domains are running. Since we know that montmorency has three system boards currently assigned to it, we won’t (usually) interrupt domain functionality to it when we remove the board.

$ moveboard -c configure -d spiderman SB11request delete capacity (4 cpus)request delete capacity (2097152 pages)request delete capacity SB11 donerequest offline SUNW_cpu/cpu352request offline SUNW_cpu/cpu353request offline SUNW_cpu/cpu354request offline SUNW_cpu/cpu355request offline SUNW_cpu/cpu352 donerequest offline SUNW_cpu/cpu353 donerequest offline SUNW_cpu/cpu354 donerequest offline SUNW_cpu/cpu355 doneunconfigure SB11unconfigure SB11 donenotify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu352notify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu353notify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu354notify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu355notify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu352 donenotify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu353 donenotify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu354 donenotify remove SUNW_cpu/cpu355 donenotify capacity change (4 cpus)notify capacity change (2097152 pages)notify capacity change SB11 donedisconnect SB11disconnect SB11 donepoweroff SB11poweroff SB11 doneSB11 disconnected from domain: GSB11 unassigned from domain: GSB11 assigned to domain: Aassign SB11assign SB11 donepoweron SB11poweron SB11 donetest SB11test SB11 doneconnect SB11connect SB11 doneconfigure SB11configure SB11 donenotify online SUNW_cpu/cpu352notify online SUNW_cpu/cpu353notify online SUNW_cpu/cpu354notify online SUNW_cpu/cpu355notify add capacity (4 cpus)notify add capacity (2097152 pages)notify add capacity SB11 done

DR isn’t perfect. Far from it. It really works, but there are a few things to look out for. Primarily, I’ve never seen an addboard operation fail. You can always add to a hot domain. However, I’ve often seen a deleteboard operation fail. Some times, Solaris has memory allocated that it doesn’t want to turn over. Some times, it can turn the memory over, but only after you quiesce the domain (basically, it freezes the domain for 5 minutes or so while it moves the locked memory to another SB). While a quiescent domain is technically up, it isn’t really running. If your domain is a database server, your application servers that depend on it for operation may give up by then, which is the same thing as “downtime,” but Sun likes to pretend it isn’t. If the DR operation will require you to quiesce a domain, moveboard or deleteboard will warn you ahead of time.

IO Boards are particularly difficult to remove. Some times Veritas Volume Manager grabs hold of a disk drive that you don’t want it to, and will not let it go. Some times, you have plumbed-up an Ethernet interface and forgotten about it.

The most fool-proof way to perform a deleteboard is to shut do
wn the domain from which you wish to remove the board first, then issue the deleteboardcommand. In order to accomplish this, the domain’s virtual keyswitch must bet set to either “Off” or “Standby.”

setkeyswitch

Each domain is equipped with a virtual keyswitch. The keyswitch has three settings:

Keyswitch Setting	Function
off	SBs and IO boards are powered off.
standby	SBs and IO boards are powered on, but system is still functionally “off.”
on	System runs Power On Self Test, then OBP is loaded. Once OBP is loaded, system can be booted. $ setkeyswitch on is functionally equivalent to bringup on the E10k.

Console Access

Traditional UNIX servers typically use their serial port as the console device. This is not normally the case with UNIX workstations that usually have a keyboard, mouse, and monitor attached. But there are no serial ports on 25k SBs or IO boards. How, then do we connect to the consoles of our domains?

The answer is the console command. It works just like a normal serial console. Using the ~~# sequence is usually enough to dump the domain back to the ok> prompt, and ~~. disconnects you from the console session.

Conclusion

That is all I have time for now. Part 3 will be here soon.

The Boiled Shrimp Primer

A high-level overview for how to handle and prepare Bayou la Batre style boiled shrimp.

—–
Thawing

The shrimp I usually deal with come in 5 pound frozen blocks, wrapped in a plastic bag, then enclosed inside a box.

1. Take them out of the box and remove the plastic bag.
2. Put the whole block into a large strainer, and put the strainer in your kitchen sink.
3. Run COLD tap water over the block until it is all broken up.

—–
Cooking

If you want to boil them, you’ll need a large pot of boiling water, salt, and some Zatarain’s crab boil. Crab boil comes in liquid, powder, and pouch formats. Any of these will work fine. I usually use the powder format, but it is messy.

When you salt the water, add so much salt that you start to wonder if you’ll be able to eat them. Then salt it again. I really don’t have a measurement for this, and it is possible to over-salt… but most people tend to under-salt. Remember, you’re salting in relation to the volume of water you’re using to boil in.

Add the crab boil to the water. I have also been known to use Old Bay seasoning or copious amounts of celery seed. I also usually like to add some minced garlic.

I’ve seen crab boil in nearly every grocery store in north Alabama… Publix, Kroger, Brunos, etc… Look for a yellow box/bottle.

If you want to cook vegetables like corn or potatoes with the shrimp, add them before you add the shrimp, and cook them for about 5-10 minutes. Potatoes in particular take longer than shrimp to cook, and you don’t want to overcook the shrimp.

Once you add the shrimp, bring the pot back up to a boil with the lid on. Once the pot comes back to a boil, turn the heat down to a simmer and eat one of the shrimp. If the shrimp is not completely done, put the lid back on for another 3-5 minutes, then try another. Repeat this process until the shrimp are done.

Beer helps this process. Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Shiner Bock, or Dos Equis Amber match very well. If you are in an area of the country that has New Belgium Fat Tire, it is a PERFECT match for boiled shrimp.

It is important that once you bring the shrimp to a good rolling boil, you turn the heat down enough that the boiling stops.

There are other options for cooking the shrimp, such as frying (use Zatarain’s Fish Fry for this), and scampi.

For scampi, put the shrimp in a pan, drizzle with olive oil (or just drop a stick of butter in the pan), season with salt, and place under a broiler until they’re done…

Again, you have to taste them to find out if they’re done. That’s the rule. I didn’t make it up, I just follow it. I sometimes add a little minced garlic toward the end of broiling if I’m making scampi… The garlic will burn if you cook it too long…

Shrimp gumbo is a whole essay on its own, but there are many recipes on the net.

Cocktail sauce is easy to make if you like that sort of thing (ketchup + horse radish), or can be bought in bottles if you like.

Put any uncooked shrimp in a ziploc bag in the fridge for up to a day or two. They can also be re-frozen by placing them in a ziploc bag, covering with water, draining the air out of the bag, and put in the freezer.

—–
Peels

You can boil with peels on or peels off. Peels-on tastes better, and divides up the peeling work amongst the diners. However, peeling them before boiling is fine too. Starting from the head end, peel off two or three segments of shell, usually down to the end of the leg segments, then pinch the tail to remove the tail segment. Once you’ve done a few hundred thousand, it becomes second nature.

—–
Making sure your house doesn’t smell like rotting shrimp for days afterwards

This isn’t as hard as it sounds if you follow a few steps.

1. All peels MUST go into a ziploc bag before they go into your trash can.
2. Tie the original box and plastic bag up inside a Walmart bag or something before you throw it in the trash.
3. Take the trash out.
4. Any pot, plate, bowl, pan, vessel or conveyance that comes into contact with shrimp must be washed with soap and water or run through the dish washer that day. Do not leave them sitting in the dish washer until you get enough dishes for a full load.
5. Seal any cooked leftovers into a ziploc bag and put in the fridge for up to a few days.
6. Wash your hands.

Thank goodness for the nanny-State of Alabama.

Amy and I went to a local German establishment for dinner on Friday night. It had been a while since we’d been there. We got in the door, and had a table within minutes. Normally, I prefer English, Irish, and Belgian beer styles, but there are some German styles that are quite good, too. Some of them are even unfiltered.

So, the waitress brought us some nice, warm, dark bread, fresh from the oven. There was a little bit of rye in it, but probably not enough to be over powering. Looking at the beer list on the back of the menu, I saw they had Tucher Dunkel. “Ah!” I thought. It would be nice to have a Tucher Dark! So I asked for one.

Turns out, they had to stop selling the Tucher beers because they are half-litres… 16.9 fluid ounces. Nine tenths of an ounce OVER the Alabama nanny-state limit of 16 ounces for bottled or canned beers… Because people might drink too much.

So, instead, I had to settle for Paulaner October Fest (or Marzen if you prefer). Since the Paulaner was on draft, I was able to order in quantities of 14 oz, 20 oz, or 1 litre. I opted for the 20 ounce, thus drinking slightly more beer than I would otherwise would have done with the 500 ml Tucher Dunkel that I wanted in the first place.

Still, the Paulaner matched well with the cucumber salad, pan fried potatoes, and Chicken Florentine I had for my meal. So all was not lost. Nevertheless, thank goodness the State of Alabama was there to keep me from drinking too much. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

HOLY

CRAP!

This is awesome. It just stinks that they moth-balled it. What most people don’t know, is that after the Challenger accident, president Regan (nee Ronaldus Magnus)forbade Department of Defense payloads from being launched by the shuttle.

Also, it is little known that one of the original goals of the shuttle program was for the USAF to operate their own fleet, separate from NASA.

I’ve often said that the fastest way to commercialize space is to weaponize it.

Eleven Pieces of Flair: Personal Hygiene and the working geek.

The minimum you must do.

Computer geeks and personal hygiene are not often talked about together. As my gift to the world, I’ve written the following primer for the computer geek to follow as part of a plan to keep one’s co-workers from gagging any time one enters a room, or indeed strangling one before one has a chance to escape a room.

There are varing degrees of “sick.” Mild being that you cause people to blanch just by your appearance, severe being to actually pass some sort of air-borne (or even worse, fluid-borne) bug that causes a co-worker to miss work. The bottom line is that if you make your co-workers sick, they’re going to lynch you, and you’d deserve it.

These steps can be employed by any other white-collar worker to similar results of not being lynched. However, this primer is mostly targeted at the male computer geek.

Most of these steps are geared to reduce your overall OPF (Other People’s Funk) footprint.

Keep in mind, this is the minimum. Eleven pieces of flair. You don’t want to do just the minimum, do you?

Early last week, some well-meaning person decided to take one for the team and come in to work sick. The result of the man-hours recouped by this one act of sheer pluck lead directly to a plague spreading across the office like a house on fire.

I was lucky enough to contract this lovely affliction by Thursday. Unfortunately, this was some strong stuff. I have rarely ever in my life had any kind of chest-cold that a good dose of albuterol every few hours wouldn’t at least HELP. Not this time. This virulent pestilence laughs at merest albuterol.

Out of sheer anger toward the person that did this, I’m back up to about %70 of normal today, and working from home so as not to spread it any further.

Whilst fuming, I came upon some other gripes that I have about how people comport themselves at work… I’ve been saving this up for a long time.

1. Take a shower. Every day. PLEASE. Use soap. Particularly on “pits-and-bits.” It’s embarrassing to have to say so, but some people apparently still don’t get it.

2. If you have dandruff, you pretty much have to abandon long hair. There is nothing for it. Walking about all flaky is going to disgust everyone with all of the OPF you’re dumping into the atmosphere. Plus, it is very uncomfortable.
   • Wear your hair short.
   • Use anti-dandruff shampoo every day. You can find many anti-dandruff shampoos today that don’t smell like they are anti-dandruff shampoo.
   • Wet hair. Apply shampoo. Lather. Rinse.
   • Apply shampoo again. Lather. Rinse.
   • Give up wearing black shirts until you get that junk under control.
3. Use some sort of deodorant. This is not optional. Give up the funk.

   Patchouli is not deodorant. Anything similar to patchouli is not deodorant. Incense is not deodorant. If you don’t like the aluminum, use something alcohol-based, but keep in mind it evaporates quickly.

   If you forget every once-in-a-while, it is forgivable. If you make it a habit, keep a backup supply in your desk. Use it when necessary.

   In the summer months, it may be necessary to apply significantly more product than in the cooler months. Or, it may be necessary to re-apply midway through the day.

4. While we’re on the subject of smells, don’t wear so much perfume/cologne that we smell you 10 seconds before you enter the room.
5. No one wants to see your hairy arse. Wear a belt.
6. Unless your name is “Magnum P.I.” no one wants to see your hairy chest.

   Even if your name is “Magnum P.I.” I don’t want to see it.

   In the name of all that is holy, wear an undershirt, even in the summer. Shave anything that pokes out above the collar. This means the back of the collar too.

   White Haynes “Beefy-T” shirts are available here for the cost of $2.74 each plus shipping. Buy ten.

   They are cheap, they last for years, they will protect your nice shirts from getting sweat-stained, and they will keep your nasty, oily chest-fleece out of my sight.

7. Shave.
   Many computer geeks prefer the manly look of a full beard. Very few of them can pull it off. Follow this simple syntax:
   • If you are going to wear a beard or moustache, keep food out of it, and trim that forest once a week!
   • Keep the areas of your face that you do shave shaved clean. I realize that most geeks who grow beards do so because they don’t want to shave every day. Think of it as “code maintenance.”
   • If you use a Gillette Mach 3, ditch it. Buy a Sensor Excel. The Mach 3 is too big to do any useful shaving. The angle of the Mach 3 head makes it useless for anything other than scraping paint off of the ceiling. Mach 3 Power is just a rip-off. You are smarter than this, don’t fall for the Mach 3. Your wallet will thank you. Your face will thank you.
   • When you shave, make one pass shaving top-to-bottom. Re-lather, and make another pass from bottom-to-top. Re-lather, and make one final clean-up pass where there are rough patches.
   • When you shave, the most important thing you can do is NOT PRESS DOWN on the razor. THIS is what causes razor burn. If you follow the 3 pass method and don’t press down, you will get a closer shave than at any time in your life, and you won’t have any razor burn.

8. Trim your nails once a week. BUT DON’T FREAKING DO IT AT WORK! That is disgusting!

9. As unpleasant as it sounds, nose and ear hairs have to go. I don’t care if you do it with scissors or a hedge-trimmer. Nothing screams “UNCLEAN!” louder than big-ol nose and ear hairs poking out all over the place.
10. No amount of “yuck” can convey the way people at work treat the restrooms. There’s no delicate way to put this, but I’ll try.

    The only saving grace is that they are several orders of magnitude better than the ones in my high school were. Those were so bad that I would leave school and risk getting caught and suspended rather than go in for any reason.

    If I had done, it is likely that I would now be dead, due to some mystery infection they still don’t have a name for.

    • TRY not to leave any kind of your bodily secretions where other people are going to have to touch them.

    • FLUSH. If necessary FLUSH AGAIN YOU DIRTY BASTARD.
    • Do not under any circumstances comb your hair whilst leaning against the sink, thus leaving greasy head-filament all over the sink that everyone uses to wash their hands.
    • ALWAYS WASH THOSE NASTY RAW-SEWAGE HANDS. Even if you only took a leak. Especially if you only took a leak. You have no idea how much bacteria is creeping around down-there.
    • If you insist on brushing your teeth in the restroom at work, you are probably insane. The amount of ambient OPF in there should convince you that the risk-to-benefit ratio is more than it’s worth. Just make sure you brush them before you come to work. Touch up with breath mints or those Listerine film things. Still, if you must, then I can’t fault you for wearing more flair than the minimum… You’re just braver than I am.
    • Don’t talk to me in the restroom. That isn’t what the place is for. I find it hard to be polite whilst concentrating so intently on avoiding so much of other people’s filth.

      Questions like “How’s it goin’?” are clearly inappropriate. What ever you have to say can wait until later.

11. No matter what you do, don’t come to work sick! You’ll only make things worse. Work from home if you have to. Check your email. Check your voice mail. Dial-in to meetings. VPN-in to do your normal work. Stay out until you are well. Then stay out an extra day.
    The worst thing that you can do for office productivity is to come in to work and spread your cooties around.

    The worst thing you can do for YOUR health is to come in sick. Because when I find you, I’m going to make you suffer.