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Complex Numbers
Complex Numbers
A complex number is expressed in the standard form a + bi, where a and b are real numbers and i is defined by i^2 = -1 (that is, i is the square root of -1). For example, 3 + 2i is a complex number.
The bi term is often referred to as an imaginary number (though this may be misleading, as it is no more "imaginary" than the symbolic abstractions we know as the "real" numbers). Thus, every complex number has a real part, a, and an imaginary part, bi.
Complex numbers are often represented on a graph known as the "complex plane," where the horizontal axis represents the infinity of real numbers, and the vertical axis represents the infinity of imaginary numbers. Thus, each complex number has a unique representation on the complex plane: some closer to real; others, more imaginary. If a = b, the number is equal parts real and imaginary.
Very simple transformations applied to numbers in the complex plane can lead to fractal structures of enormous intricacy and astonishing beauty.
February 28, 2007 at 8:04pm February 28, 2007 at 8:04pm
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End of February. 1/6 of the year gone, already.
I realize I haven't been funny lately. I could say I'm saving it all up for the Comedy newsletter, but the fact is I'm just too burned out to be funny.
I need to get my truck radio fixed. When I don't have music to listen to, the same old shit keeps flopping around in my head like a bad simile. I don't want to be tired of certain songs because my cerebradio keeps overplaying them.
Well, if I can't be funny, I can at least pass on someone else being funny:
http://www.ilovebacon.com/022807/h.shtml
And that's it for the month... |
February 27, 2007 at 7:57pm February 27, 2007 at 7:57pm
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Nothing like a good old-fashioned pissedoffedness to break me out of my blue funk.
http://www.kait8.com/Global/story.asp?S=6135202
Simonton told police that she had been pistol wipped and raped with a screwdriver by a Hispanic man after she picked him up on the side of the road carrying a baby. She later confessed to authorities that her facial injuries were self-inflicted and that she had made the entire story up.
I'm reading this and I'm thinking, yeah, this kind of thing is fucked up, and unfortunately it happens from time to time, and yeah, I'd say she's mentally disturbed.
Then I got to the last paragraph.
One study from Purdue University found in over 40% of the rape cases they studied, the so-called 'victim' in those cases, like Simonton's, eventually admitted that no rape had occurred.
What?
"Over 40%?"
Leaving aside for the moment the questionable value of a single survey statistic stuck in as a throwaway at the end of a news story, I still have to consider this pretty damn disturbing.
Back in the Stone Age (my first marriage), I was sitting watching TV with my then-wife and this PSA came on. One of those that consists of a single, disturbed, worried and slightly haggard-looking woman, speaking as the camera zooms slowly in on her face. "Every fifteen seconds in this country," she said in all seriousness, "a woman is raped."
"Boy," I said, "she must be pretty sore."
I nearly became a statistic, myself. I'm pretty sure my ex-wife would have killed me if I hadn't outweighed her.
Point is, women don't find rape funny. I don't blame them. For some reason, though, both men and women find male-on-male rape pretty damn amusing. "Boy, you look just like a hog!"
As under-reported as rape is supposed to be, male-victim rape is probably even more underreported. "Uh. Yeah. I was walking down the street and this guy grabbed me and shoved his cock up my ass..."
"Sir, what were you wearing?"
Yeah, like I said: not funny.
I have to wonder about the fifteen second statistic, too. Math time. There are 24*60*60/15 = 5760 fifteen-second intervals in a day, which means according to the very serious woman on the PSA, about 5800 women get raped a day (assuming none of them are gang-bangs). That's 5760*365= about 2.1 MILLION women per year.
Okay, now I'll admit I'm in over my head. That's a lot of assaults, even if you can accept that over 40% of them are false reports. So let me get back to my original point.
Couple years back, a local man was charged with rape based on a woman's testimony. As I recall this case, there was no controversy over whether the woman was actually raped or not; her situation and story were consistent with violent sexual assault. In keeping with the privacy customs of our country, the woman's name was withheld from the press, while the man's name was widely reported.
Well, it turned out that she'd picked the wrong black male out of a lineup. I guess they all looked alike to her or something. In any event, this guy had to endure, at a minimum, massive legal expenses, and probably a whole load of underreported social expenses. Imagine how people would react to you after your name is plastered all over the papers in connection with a violent sexual assault - as the perpetrator. Especially in the southern U.S. if you're African-American.
Well, he was cleared, and he sued the chick, and the media had a freaking field day. "It should be illegal," was the consensus of certain groups, "to sue a person for damages after a false accusation of rape! Rape is underreported as it is, and it would have a chilling effect on women coming forward and reporting it!" No mention of the "rights" of the falsely accused to clear his name, or the chilling effect lawsuits would have on false accusations. After all, he's only a man, and if he didn't commit this rape, obviously he committed another one. How else do you explain 2 million rapes a year?
Do I have an easy answer? Of course not. I'm just ranting.
I'm going to stop now. I have a deadline and need to go back to work. But I'll leave you with this little gem:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070225/ap_on_hi_te/smart_surveillance |
February 26, 2007 at 5:28pm February 26, 2007 at 5:28pm
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You know, usually, when I don't have much to say here, I can rely on Bruce to give me guidance. I have all his songs queued up, and when I pick one at random it often says something to me, gives me inspiration... and the key to a blog entry.
Today? Not so much.
I didn't sleep well last night. It happens. Thoughts churn in my head and pressure builds up like someone's attached a bicycle pump to my cerebrum. I got up to do some writing - sometimes a freewriting core dump helps to clear the old RAM. What I wanted to do was play a video game, but I figured then when I finally got to bed at four AM, I'd dream about the video game, and that usually makes things worse. I resisted the temptation.
So instead when I went to bed at four AM, I dreamed about work. Then I had to get up and GO to work, even though my limbic system was convinced I'd already been there all day.
When I retire, will I dream about golf?
I don't even play golf.
My body wants to be awake at night, and all day, all it wants to do is sleep. I keep checking for fangs, but they never seem to appear.
Ah. There's one:
And I'm driving a stolen car
On a pitch black night
And I'm telling myself I'm gonna be alright
But I ride by night and I travel in fear
That in this darkness I will disappear
-Bruce Springsteen,
Stolen Car |
February 25, 2007 at 6:40pm February 25, 2007 at 6:40pm
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What happened to my weekend?
Oh, yeah, I was at a con, having "fun."
Well, it was fun, sort of, except, like I said, these people are too hardcore even for me. But I got to drum, and watch bellydancers, and drink, and play some card games. Not much else I ask out of life - except maybe a working internet connection! 
But I'm back home now, where my internet works. Usually.  |
February 24, 2007 at 12:23pm February 24, 2007 at 12:23pm
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My Internet connection here is still shitty and sporadic. I'm taking advantage of a "window" to give you a CON UPDATE.
There are stormtroopers wandering the halls. I saw a ninja... which means that he wasn't a REAL ninja, PC. Also, I watched automatic doors open for him. Definitely a poseur.
There are a lot of geeks getting together and playing card, board and miniatures games. I didn't join them; they're too hardcore for me. I'm spending half my time avoiding LARPers and other vampires.
There's a dealer's room, where I just bought a bunch of card, board and miniature games, as well as a couple of Firefly t-shirts.
The writing workshop this morning was cool. These are people who still believe in plot - unlike the workshop at UVA.
So we'll see if this connection holds out for later... |
February 23, 2007 at 7:55pm February 23, 2007 at 7:55pm
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So my wife dragged me to SheVaCon, a science-fiction, fantasy, horror and gaming convention in Roanoke.
(You're right; it didn't take a whole lot of dragging)
She's going because she's dancing. I'm going to keep the other geeks' hands off her and, oh yeah, it's all about science fiction, gaming, fantasy and horror.
So I'm at a Holiday Inn with a shitty, spotty Internet connection. I hope I can post this. I really hope I can get on for a while tomorrow, so I can do a bunch of stuff I'm committed to doing on the site. Like next week's A/A newsletter, for instance.
After the 10:00 Writer's Workshop, that is... |
February 22, 2007 at 12:50pm February 22, 2007 at 12:50pm
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ArtemisMad Scientist  suggested that I link this article today:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17251571/
Alarmed by a survey that found that nearly 14 percent of teens in China are vulnerable to becoming addicted to the Internet, the Chinese government has launched a nationwide campaign to stamp out what the Communist Youth League calls "a grave social problem" that threatens the nation.
Uh huh.
This is coming from the same country that has managed to convince its citizens that cigarette smoking is not only cool, but good for you:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/Page/document/v5/content/subscribe?user_U...
Here's some exciting medical news from the Chinese government: Smoking is great for your health. Cigarettes ... reduce the risk of Parkinson's disease, relieve schizophrenia, boost your brain cells, speed up your thinking, improve your reactions and increase your working efficiency.
As for internet addiction, it's not a problem if you don't have work or a social life to begin with. |
February 21, 2007 at 4:51pm February 21, 2007 at 4:51pm
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This one's especially for those of you who get anxiety attacks just skipping past the intro to this blog.
http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyid=2007...
Math anxiety -- feelings of dread and fear and avoiding math -- can sap the brain's limited amount of working capacity, a resource needed to compute difficult math problems...
Good to know. However:
said Mark Ashcraft, a psychologist at the University of Nevada Las Vegas who studies the problem.
UNLV, huh? What did he use as study participants, card counters?
Peer review, people! |
February 20, 2007 at 5:13pm February 20, 2007 at 5:13pm
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So I ran across this interesting little tidbit:
http://www.businessweek.com/ap/financialnews/D8NDHKEG0.htm
The Australian government on Tuesday announced plans to phase out incandescent light bulbs and replace them with more energy-efficient compact fluorescent bulbs across the country...
In incandescent light bulbs, perfected for mass use by Thomas A. Edison in the late 19th century, electricity flows through a filament to create light. Much of the energy, however, is wasted in the form of heat.
Australia is not the only place looking to replace them with fluorescent lighting, which is more efficient and longer lasting.
In incandescent light bulbs, perfected for mass use by Thomas A. Edison in the late 19th century, electricity flows through a filament to create light. Much of the energy, however, is wasted in the form of heat.
Note how Edison is mentioned by name as the "perfector" of incandescent light bulbs. Note also how the inventor (or perfector) of flourescent lights isn't even mentioned in passing in the story.
This isn't new. The two of them had a battle about electric current transmission, too. Edison was sure DC power was the answer. So what if there was no way, at the time, to send DC more than a few blocks without significant losses from resistance? It was the way things would be because, by damn, Edison said so! Meanwhile, the other guy found a way to send power over far vaster distances: AC transmission, enabling the power source to be significantly removed from the user. Hence, a power plant at Niagara Falls was able to supply power to New York City.
There's a statue of him on Goat Island, between Niagara's Falls. Goat Island is ephemeral; erosion will eventually push the falls upstream and make the island, and presumably the statue, disappear.
Same guy invented radio. Marconi got the popular credit, but the patent went to Nikola Tesla.
It's said that Tesla refused a Nobel prize when he found that he'd have to share it with Edison.
And now, if the trend is indeed to phase out (pun intended) incandescent bulbs in favor of flourescents... well, to me it represents the final triumph of Tesla over his blustering rival, Edison. Let there be light - cheap, clean, efficient light!
Now if they can only make them a bit less industrial-looking... |
February 19, 2007 at 5:24pm February 19, 2007 at 5:24pm
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This week's authors: Junot Diaz and Lorrie Moore.
Fascinating thing about this week's reading: Both stories are written in the second person. You don't see that much, do you? Most stories you read are first or one of the myriad varieties of third person.
I use the second person occasionally for effect, but always in poems or, well, blog entries. These stories are quite effective in engaging the reader. They're both "how-to" style narratives, so the second person point of view actually enhances the story.
Neither is written in a particularly "literary" mode, though, so I could read them without gagging. Maybe I'll get through the rest of the course after all. |
February 18, 2007 at 9:01pm February 18, 2007 at 9:01pm
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So Kirstin took me out for my birthday dinner tonight. Per my request, we went to a Japanese restaurant we haven't been to before.
She talked about what she did yesterday, which was attend an SCA event in Maryland. For those who have been living under rocks, SCA means "Society for Creative Anachronisms," but no one calls it that.
It always struck me as - well, not silly, exactly, but on the far side of playing role playing games and online video games. The idea, from what I've been able to glean from friends of mine who do SCA stuff, is you pick a period of history and relive it - dress, weaponry, food, decorations, etc.
The problem for me is that every time I think of a period of history, while I can certainly see some good things about it, it's invariably far worse than what we have now. No computers, no cars, no health care, and an appalling lack of human rights. It's good to know history, but why relive it?
Only thing I can figure is that in America we have no rituals, no customs, no culture that is coherent and meaningful. I mean, we have cars (yes, I can put cars in "good" and "bad" columns) and entertainment, but not the deep, profound traditions of older countries. People need these rituals, and so they bring them from some bygone era that otherwise has... let's see... nothing to recommend it.
And then I chuckled, as I realized that of all the places I could have gone for my birthday, I pick the one that emulates the cuisine of an alien culture.
Oh, and my birthday present? The first two Black Adder series. You know, with Rowan Atkinson. From Britain.
Well, there's one American thing I can claim...
Your love is here and now
The vicious circle turns and burns without
Though I cannot live forgive me now
The time has come to take this moment and
They can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us...
-Bruce Springsteen
Because the Night |
February 17, 2007 at 8:02pm February 17, 2007 at 8:02pm
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There is very little that I dislike more than maintenance.
Before you start thinking that sounds like a weird thing coming from an engineer, keep in mind that I design things, not keep them up.
Maintenance includes cleaning, mowing, raking, and general fix-it stuff. Oh, if something breaks I often enjoy fixing it, but not if it just wears out from use. Don't ask me to clarify that; I'm not sure I can.
Essentially, I don't like doing tasks that I've already done, or that will just have to be done again. Hence, I like cooking (even if it's a dish I've made before) but I dislike washing the dishes. Not that I don't; I just dislike it.
But there's not much in the world I hate doing more than mowing the lucking fawn.
So the task that my wife and I have set for ourselves is to get someone to plant us a low-maintenance lawn. Sure, we'll still have to shovel a walk and rake leaves (tasks we try to share), but if we do this right I'll never have to mow again.
Anyone wanna buy a lawnmower? I have two, and I can never get either of them to start. |
February 16, 2007 at 5:29pm February 16, 2007 at 5:29pm
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I've grown to hate February.
I'm not really sure when it happened. I think it was a gradual thing, like the slow realization that something, somewhere is just wrong.
I threw your keys in the water, I looked back,
Theyd frozen halfway down in the ice.
They froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners,
Even after the anger, it all turned silent, and
The everyday turned solitary,
So we came to february.
Except that I can't quite remember liking February, not really. It starts with Groundhog Day, which is about as silly a holiday that I could think of. Later, when I found its ancient meaning, it became slightly less silly. But it's still Groundhog Day.
First we forgot where wed planted those bulbs last year,
Then we forgot that wed planted at all,
Then we forgot what plants are altogether,
And I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and
The nights were long and cold and scary,
Can we live through february?
Then, of course, is Valentine's Day.
I don't get Valentine's Day. Why do we have to have a day like that, anyway?
I think a lot of people would rather spend Christmas without family than Valentine's Day without smooches. It makes no sense to me, but then, I'm a guy.
You know I think christmas was a long red glare,
Shot up like a warning, we gave presents without cards,
And then the snow,
And then the snow came, we were always out shoveling,
And we'd drop to sleep exhausted,
Then we'd wake up, and its snowing.
Oh, yeah, there's the snow. Even in years when it hardly snows at all here, it snows in February. Maybe just one light dusting; more often, a massive load of frozen stupid turning Virginia into a dirty, slushy, road-raging wonderland.
And february was so long that it lasted into march
And found us walking a path alone together.
You stopped and pointed and you said, thats a crocus,
And I said, whats a crocus? and you said, its a flower,
I tried to remember, but I said, whats a flower?
You said, i still love you.
Of course, then there's the length. 28 days. I think it used to be the END of the calendar, as evidenced by a bunch of months that start with number names. September - seven. October - eight. And so on. Like the new year once began in March, and they suddenly ran out of days in February.
I never seem to get as much work done in February. Partly it's because of the snow; partly the missing days; partly the inevitable depression.
The leaves were turning as we drove to the hardware store,
My new lover made me keys to the house,
And when we got home, well we just started chopping wood,
Because you never know how next year will be,
And well gather all our arms can carry,
I have lost to february.
-Dar Williams,
February
But the worst thing, the killer thing about this month is that I was born in it, one snowy-ass Friday in 1966. This, doing the math, means I turn 41 this year, and if THAT's not reason enough to hate the month I don't know what is. Birthdays lately have been less a chance for celebration and more a reason to look back and think of all the things I could have done, and to miss my parents. Oh, sure, I have a good life, and I love my wife and appreciate my friends, but I never can shake the idea that I could have, might have done something more... important, if I'd tried.
Worse, I end up realizing that I don't really care.
When we found the things we loved,
They were crushed and dying in the dirt.
We tried to pick up the pieces,
And get away without getting hurt,
But they caught us at the state line,
And burned our cars in one last fight,
And left us running burned and blind,
Chasing something in the night.
-Bruce Springsteen,
Something in the Night |
February 15, 2007 at 5:20pm February 15, 2007 at 5:20pm
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Okay, imagine this: you're the greatest singer/songwriter of all time, and you're in some foreign city for a concert. You stay in your limo surrounded by your bodyguards, right?
Wrong.
You come up to a random street musician and jam with him:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfbLTDRAm58
Springsteen is God.
If I was that street musician, I'd have jumped off a bridge right afterward. I mean, you can only go downhill from there, right? |
February 14, 2007 at 5:09pm February 14, 2007 at 5:09pm
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Ah, Singles Awareness Day.
I was trying to figure out when the  symbol came into use, and ran into a lot of speculation and wishful historical thinking. The explanation I like best is that the flowers of a certain member of the parsley family resembled hearts, and this plant was used as a means of contraception in the ancient world. The plant, sadly, only grew in a limited area and became extinct - which I suppose says something deep and metaphorical about human nature, but it escapes me at the moment.
The shape looks nothing like an actual heart, anyway. The human heart has long been known as the symbolic source of love, especially what we now know as "romantic" love. And I suppose that drawing the organ itself would be rather disgusting and, probably, turn thoughts away from amorousness. Unless your beloved is into that kind of thing.
So, okay, the symbol doesn't make a lot of sense either way. But what would you expect from something representative of that least rational of human interactions?
I'm not knocking it, you understand.
Back in the 80s there was this huge fad, perpetrated by the New York tourism people, to put bumperstickers on your car that read, "I (heart) [whatever]" - beginning with "I (heart) NY" and going downhill from there. "I (heart} Jesus;" "I (heart) my dog" and so on. It was slightly worse than the current "ribbon" trend, and not quite as bad as the "Baby on Board" signs from later in the same decade.
I found a big sheet of stickers that had line drawings of screws on them. You peeled them off and slapped them over the annoying hearts. "I (screw) NY;" "I (screw) my dog"... you get the idea.
Trends last until they're parodied. It did my good to see, today, a black "ribbon" on the back of a truck that read, "Someone stole my awareness magnet!"
There is hope. |
February 13, 2007 at 4:13pm February 13, 2007 at 4:13pm
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According to the weatherweasels, it's supposed to ice tonight.
These same weatherweasels keep predicting frozen stupid that never materializes. Like last night. I fully expected to wake up this morning and find Charlottesville glazed like the Krispy Kremes that we no longer have because they were victims of the low-carb fad.
Actually, we lost two donut places because of the low-carb fad. One of them even had cop cars perpetually outside of it. I know they didn't go out of business from being robbed. Fortunately, we still have Spudnuts. I'm not sure I can do justice to the Spudnuts concept - let's just say that once you eat a Spudnut, there's not much that ordinary donuts can do for you. Like our other local purveyor of toroidal carbohydrate modules, Bodo's. Bodo's does bagels and - don't tell this to anyone from New York - they're better than any bagel I've ever gotten in New York, and I've had a lot of New York bagels.
Bodo's doesn't sell bialys though. Or knishes. So I suppose I still have reason to go to New York.
But not tonight. Tonight I might not even have internet access if it freezes like it's supposed to. Every time it freezes around here, trees fall on power lines. One time a hurricane remnant (Isabel) blew through here. It was a September, and it took the better part of a week for them to restore power (we were, fortuitously, in Myrtle Beach at the time). Imagine how long it will take when the utility trucks have to traverse roads that are slicker than a snot-covered car salesman.
We have those in Charlottesville, too.
So worst case scenario: Tonight we will lose power, and tomorrow - Singles Awareness Day - we will be unable to go anywhere.
Better stock up on chocolates and Duraflames on the way home... |
February 12, 2007 at 6:25pm February 12, 2007 at 6:25pm February 11, 2007 at 8:45pm February 11, 2007 at 8:45pm
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This week's Fiction Writing class reading was two short stories: one by Ann Beattie (I'm not sure whether that's because the teacher thinks Beattie's any good, or because she's the UVA English department chair) and the other by Raymond Carver.
I guess the mistake I made in reading them was expecting something to happen - because nothing did, except a bunch of neurotic people made small talk with each other.
It's pretty bad when I'm reading two stories by authors known for their sparse, brief styles and I find myself skipping over whole paragraphs. Because I was reading for class, I forced myself to go back and read the boring parts.
More, there were no great revelations, no AHA! moments, no epic conflicts (hardly any conflict at all, and I'm being generous in assuming that two people talking at cross purposes represents "conflict") There was a lot of characterization, good dialogue and scene-setting.
But here's the thing: there's no fucking POINT in setting a scene, writing breezy dialogue, or developing a character if all that character is going to do is sit around being neurotic!
This is what I'm supposed to be looking up to? This is the style I'm supposed to emulate if I'm to achieve my goal of getting published? I expect I could do it - come up with vapid characters and have them drinking tea with each other while talking about flowers - given some more practice, but now I'm not sure I want to.
So what's the point?
(It just came to me - have the aforementioned tea party be disrupted by a horde of zombies (little metaphor there) or tentacled space aliens. Whomever is left after the carnage can spend the last three paragraphs frantically searching for the tea bags, only to find there's no hot water left...) |
February 10, 2007 at 10:22pm February 10, 2007 at 10:22pm
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Once, I bought at an auction a 17 year old Corolla that was only firing on three of its four cylinders.
The driver's seat was so worn and frayed that the previous owner had stretched a red sheet over it, but you could still see the lumps.
It cost me $340.
The next day, I took it to Crutchfield (one advantage of living in Charlottesville: an actual Crutchfield showroom) and had a $900 stereo system installed, including surround sound speakers and subwoofer.
I have my priorities straight, you see. I don't give two shits what my ride looks like, as long as it runs and has a good stereo. I need my tunes. It's not an option.
Today, though, I drove for over a hundred miles around the back roads of Virginia with a broken stereo - the same stereo, in fact; I had it transferred to my pickup when I bought it. The thing has a loose wire or some such; I lack the expertise to find out for myself, and I'm too lazy to drag it up to Crutchfield.
Correction: I was too lazy to get it fixed; now, after a couple of hours on the road, I have motivation.
Daytime wasn't so bad, but driving at night on the deserted country roads... well, it wasn't scary, so much as boring. Mind-bogglingly boring. Soul-numbingly boring. I tried to remember Springsteen song lyrics, but the sound of my own singing made me want to evacuate the enclosed space, which I would have done except I was driving - as I recalled just in time.
Yep. Gotta get that stereo fixed. Or maybe a new one... yeah, that's the ticket... |
February 9, 2007 at 5:07pm February 9, 2007 at 5:07pm
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Yep, time once again for News of the Wrong.
From the "I know you are but what am I" department comes this tale of a Assachussets senator giving his high-school critics what for. Boy, he showed them!
http://tinyurl.com/2o2pxj
From the Department Of I Fucking Told You So:
http://tinyurl.com/ypl38e
Sure, they still commit the classic blunders -- like the commonly used "ain't." But an increasing number of Austin's eighth-graders also submit classwork containing "b4," "ur," "2" and "wata" -- words that may confuse adults but are part of the teens' everyday lives ... "I'm always having to instruct my students against using it."
Now, look, there's an appropriate place for lingo - your cell phone text message area. MAYBE IRC. Certainly not writing.com scroll - most of us are here to write, and we don't get better by typing shortcuts.
Oh, and I wouldn't "instruct my students against using it," I'd simply fail students who use it. Oh, right, you're not allowed to do that anymore are you?
From the Cassandra Department:
http://tinyurl.com/yq8yr9
And, finally, a heartworming story about the Second Coming:
http://tinyurl.com/2x364p
On that note, everyone have a great weekend - and remember: don't vacation in Papua New Guinea! |
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I'm more than happy with Carrion Luggage, however.
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I highly recommend your blog.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Highly_Recommended.gif)
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For your awesome Klingon Bloodwine recipe from [Link to Book Entry #1016079] that deserves to be on the topmost shelf at Quark's.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quarks_Bar-2046190_12.gif)
