I remembered how many hours I spent in class playing various games on paper like “Battleship”. So much paper was used up in childhood for all that! Everyone knows Battleship, but can you recognize the games in the attached pictures? There were more games, but I think I only played these. There was also a game where you see who can make more words from the letters of one long word, but that’s really for introverts 🙂
Can you recommend some interesting books to bring (or order) from Russia to the USA, considering my interests (popular science, primarily local non-translations from English, as I can read the originals in English, and perhaps drawing) and various other intriguing things (see part of my collection)?
Have you ever heard of a unit of mass measurement called a slug? In the US, it does exist, even though it’s less common nowadays. American physics and engineering textbooks for students, especially where they want to clearly differentiate between mass (slug) and weight (lbf), tend to use the imperial system with its feet and the like. It simplifies F = ma in the imperial system without introducing extra coefficients.
1 slug is the mass that accelerates by 1 ft/s² under the force of 1 pound-force (lbf). Thus, a slug accelerating at 32.174 ft/s² “weighs” 32.174 pounds-force (lbf). 32.174 ft/s² is our 9.8 m/s², just in feet.
A “slug” is, on one hand, a slug (a slow-moving mollusk without a shell), and on the other hand, a heavy piece of metal or a bullet (like a shotgun slug – a large-caliber cartridge). In the context of the unit of mass, it’s not about mollusks, but rather about a “heavy lump.” But it’s still funny when they write “mass equals 5 slugs.”
12 slugs equal 1 blob (image of blob attached). Blob is a version of slug, but based on inches instead of feet. It has fun slang names – slinch, slugette, snail.
I also read about the British Thermal Unit — the amount of heat needed to heat 1 pound of water by 1°F. Converting BTUs to calories or joules results in a quite awkward number.
Here’s what would be great to do with AI – a system that reads the screen, listens to what’s being discussed on the call, including what you say, and what is said to you, and _on the screen_, and better yet, directly on smart-glasses, gives pop-up tips and hints that help you timely ask a counter-question or request a clarification, or respond to a question directed at you. Not just for passing interviews, although that would also be nice, but for more effectively conducting discussions — from technical to commercial ones.
In the case of smart-glasses, you could enjoy this without a computer in front of your eyes. I’m just afraid of having to send absolutely everything that happens around you to the cloud, analyze it, and return it in real time, which is technologically challenging (=expensive).
Such a system would be no less useful for conducting interviews than for passing them. For example, you ask someone a question, they start to respond, and then the system suggests — aha, it seems they are struggling with this topic. Let’s ask this question. Then you decide whether to ask this or something else. Why not? It’s convenient. Of course, the interviewee could employ the same system, and then it would not be simple.
Right now, I’m flipping through a book by Johannes Itten on color, and I think about how I miss dynamic illustrations and commentary. I’ve reached Piero della Francesca and for the life of me, I can’t recall what his paintings are like. This is where smart-glasses would come in handy. You look at a word, snap your fingers, and around it appear pop-up windows with contextual illustrations, comments, and links to detailed information, which you can visit now, or save to read later. It would be possible to ask any question verbally while looking at the text segment it pertains to and get an answer not verbally, but in a pop-up window that you can quickly close if you didn’t find anything new, or perhaps add a clarification by voice, after which the content in the window updates.
If I had smart-glasses, I would experiment with this. It seems straightforward.
I realized that I don’t know much about pearls and started reading up on them today. It turns out that pearls are formed as a natural defense by oysters to irritation: when a micro-particle (a grain of sand, a piece of shell, or a microorganism) gets into the shell, the oyster begins to cover it with layers of nacre. Nacre (nacre) — the inner layer of shells, thin layers of calcium and protein. Interestingly, nacre and pearls are essentially the same in composition. The word “nacre” comes from German and means “mother of pearl” (Perlmutter). A single layer of nacre can form several times a day to several weeks, and it takes up to 2 years for a full pearl to form.
Wild pearls are extremely rare (one in 10000), as not all mollusks are capable of producing them — only some species can. There is also black pearl, found only in the southern part of the Pacific Ocean, and the colors of natural pearls vary from white and grey to green, blue, and red.
Most of the pearls on the market are cultured: humans manage to “trick” the oyster by placing a bead or a piece of fabric inside the shell so it starts the process of covering it with nacre. In other words, to put it simply, almost all the pearls in the market have a plastic bead inside, and nacre is just a thin “skin” around it. Cultivation of pearls occurs on special farms, where oysters are provided ideal conditions for growth and are regularly cared for. The mortality rate of mollusks after transplant is between 10-40%.
Pearls can burn: this is an organic material (97% calcium and 3% water and proteins), and it does not withstand high temperatures, it also dissolves in vinegar.
It turns out, edible oysters also produce pearls, but they are not as shiny.
Nadia from Russia just brought me three books I ordered. “The Art of Color” by J. Itten, “Americans and Everyone Else” by I. Kurilla, and this one, Holodkovsky’s commentary on his translation of Faust. Interestingly, it seems that these commentaries are not available in Russian.. to be more precise.. in modern Russian. There is a reprint of the original 1914 edition, created based on a high-resolution electronic copy that was manually cleaned and processed, preserving the structure and spelling of the original edition, and it seems it was not translated into modern Russian. However, there are no difficulties in reading the reprint.
How would you measure the water level in a river? A float? A pressure sensor? Something else? Yesterday, I discovered how it’s done here on the Potomac, and it turned out to be not at all what I had imagined. The USGS engineers are great—they educate passersby by posting a diagram of the operation.
A tube is lowered into the river through which air is supplied in bubbles (through a bubble orifice). A special pressure sensor (Pressure Transducer) measures the air pressure in the tube that is necessary to release the bubbles from it. The higher the water level in the river, the more pressure is required to push the air into the water—because the air pressure in the tube is directly related to the depth of the water (according to Pascal’s law). The bubble method works well even if there is floating debris or ice in the river, which may interfere with other sensors (such as ultrasonic ones). Since the sensor does not contact the water, it always remains dry and clean. Additionally, to prevent data distortion, the system includes an air dryer (Air Dryer), which removes moisture from the air and prevents condensation.
The accuracy of such systems is 1-2 cm in water level for rivers with shallow depths.
Interestingly, the readings are transmitted not through the mobile network, but via satellite.
Tomorrow is July 4th – Independence Day.
I’m currently reading about it. It turns out that the authentic Declaration of Independence is lost to history, and the document labeled “Original Declaration of Independence” in the National Archives is actually a copy.
By the way, about 80% of the text of the declaration lists why the king is bad. Literally. He doesn’t do this, he doesn’t do that, he forgot about us here, he didn’t remember there. It’s just a straight protest of no kings. The last paragraph of the long text essentially says, in sum, forget him. We want to handle it ourselves.
Jefferson prepared the draft of the Declaration of Independence with all the usual revisions—crossed out words, inserts in the gaps, etc., all written in his poor handwriting. This document exists and is very interesting.
The rest of the committee approved the text, and Jefferson then created a fair copy (still in his bad handwriting and just the size of a regular sheet), which was presented to Congress, voted on, adopted, and received its first signatures. This “fair copy” was the real original Declaration of Independence—and it is precisely this one that is lost.
Later, Congress decided that a version suitable for publication was needed—bigger and, of course, not written in Jefferson’s terrible handwriting. For this, they hired a professional copyist. When he made his copy, Congress held a re-signing. This version by the copyist has the label “Original Declaration of Independence” on the back and is the one currently displayed in the National Archives. It was “original” only in the sense that it served as the master copy for printing.
So what happened to Jefferson’s “fair copy,” the genuine original Declaration of Independence? No one knows. It might still be somewhere in the archives, lost among other documents. Or perhaps someone took it home and preserved it, or maybe it was destroyed by time and circumstances, such as when the British burned Washington.
In 1989, a man named Michael Sparks bought an old painting at a flea market in Pennsylvania for $2.48. When he removed the frame, he discovered a rolled-up piece of paper behind it. This turned out to be one of the rare “Dunlap Broadsides”—the first 200 printed copies of the U.S. Declaration of Independence, printed on the night of July 4 to 5, 1776, by John Dunlap.
This find was in excellent condition and was sold at a Sotheby’s auction in 1991 for 2.42 million dollars (and later resold for even more). This isn’t Bitcoin!
A bit about the dates. On July 2, Congress voted for independence. Not the 4th. On July 4, it was formally ratified by Congress, they spent two days making minor formal amendments, having already decided on the substance. No signatures yet. The date on the document, of course, is the 4th. Copies were printed and sent out the next day. Eventually, the ones sent out were signed by the delegates only on August 2.
Three of the first five American presidents died on this day. Jefferson, Adams, Monroe. Jefferson was in fact the father of this declaration, with Adams, they found the time. So maybe July 2nd would be a more appropriate day to celebrate.
Yes, also—technically—America did not gain independence in 1776. It happened only after the signing of the Treaty of Paris (September 3, 1783), when Britain said: “Alright,” and recognized America as a separate state.
If the War of Independence hadn’t turned in favor of America, Washington (like most of the founding fathers) would likely have been executed for treason. But since it turned out otherwise, they picked that day.
It turns out that the incline (incline, or grade) – the steepness of a road or slope – has quite an obvious definition, but I never really thought about it. It means the ratio of the projection of a line on the terrain to the vertical plane to the projection of the same line on the horizontal. In other words, the magnitude of the incline equals the tangent of the angle between the rise of the slope and the horizontal (the tangent of the angle of inclination).
Thus, a “steep climb” sign of 10% indicates just about 5.71 degrees of inclination. This is arctan(0.1).
It also turned out that formally among specialists when reading the notation, the “%” sign is pronounced as “hundredths.”
Decent ad, if you know what a substitute is.
Hi, I'm Rauf Aliev. 