Stopped by CAVA to grab a bite, and this little restaurant is now digital only. Meaning, you can’t just come in and pay. You have to install an app, pay there, then pick up the food here, and only after that can you sit down with your bag at a table, or take it away. Interestingly, someone decided to completely shut down offline orders at a historically offline venue, and on top of that, ATT barely has coverage, and the WiFi didn’t start up quickly either. They’ve lost a customer!
I caught myself feeling that after spending half an hour articulating a complex query to an LLM, detailing what set of scripts to prepare, what must not be forgotten, what technologies to employ, what checks to anticipate, essentially crafting a detailed specification, and then hitting submit, I just want to lean back, place my hands behind my head, and watch it work for me. Because all that work would normally take me a full day, at least. Now, I’ll still spend a day, but rather on reviewing code, removing stupid comments like “# incrementing a”, understanding and occasionally restructuring the code. But there’s this pleasure, you see, in explaining well, and this thing understanding you well—it’s quite a new sensation.
I watched a cool documentary about the Hoover Dam. We visited it 10 years ago when we were traveling through California, and the impressions are hard to put into words. Just now, I finally got around to finding out how it was built, and four days ago Animagraffs released an hour-long video with “x-ray style” 3D animation that details every aspect of the construction. Friends, it’s like the pyramids of Egypt, only projected onto the early 20th century and tech levels of that time.
First off — the gigantic volume of concrete. The dam contains enough to fill ~5850 average American homes. That’s roughly the amount needed to build a road from San Francisco to New York.
Next, you can’t just pour all the concrete in one go. If the concrete had been poured as a single solid block, the heat generated during curing would have dissipated over about 125 years, which would likely have caused fatal structural cracks. A complex system of pipes with chilled water was embedded in layers of concrete to artificially cool it down. I didn’t even know such a problem existed. Thanks to this design, the dam itself can physically last up to 10,000 years and will become one of the last visible and recognizable monuments of humanity on the planet. (Incidentally, the largest dam built by beavers is in Alberta, Canada — twice as wide as the Hoover Dam — and it’s visible from space. Just something that came to mind).
Extensive “grouting” was conducted — injecting cement slurry under pressure deep into the rocky foundation (up to 150 feet for the main “grout curtain”) to fill cracks and, essentially, “weld” the dam to the canyon, preventing leaks and uplifting pressure from water.
The dam was not poured monolithically. It was constructed from interlinked vertical columns built in 5-foot “lifts” (layers) to manage the heat release, control cracking due to expansion/compression, and ensure structural integrity. The video beautifully demonstrates this.
Four massive tunnels (17m/56feet in diameter, about 3/4 mile long each) were bored just to divert the Colorado River. Instead of abandoning them, they were later plugged and incorporated into the permanent structure as part of the intakes (penstocks) and emergency spillways.
“High Scalers”: Workers known as “high scalers” were lowered hundreds of feet down the sheer canyon walls in simple bosun’s chairs, using jackhammers and dynamite to remove loose rock.
Giant aerial trams: An extensive network of cableways crossed the canyon, including one with a capacity of 150 tons, which was used to move massive equipment (even trucks) and concrete buckets.
Special heavy-duty equipment: For the project, special trucks were developed with doubled load capacity, greater power, and frames made of lightweight aluminum alloys.
The emergency spillways have a total capacity of 400,000 cubic feet per second – about four times greater than the average flow of Niagara Falls during peak season.
In the spillways, massive, 100-foot tall hollow drum gates are used, which float at the water level in their chambers, automatically rising or falling to manage floodwaters. Quite an interesting engineering structure — no motors and designed to handle severe loads.
Despite its scale, the dam was officially opened in 1936, significantly ahead of schedule (construction began in 1931). Revenue from power generation had fully paid for the construction cost by 1987.
Link at the bottom, or Google Animagraffs Hoover
WITHOUT a voltmeter. How to separate the working from the non-working with bare hands
The last episode of Black Mirror season 7 is cool (USS Callister: Into Infinity)
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I feel a lack of a service where I could periodically add what I want to listen to live, within reach from where I live, and where I would receive proposals to buy a concert ticket with dates — mainly based on what I indicated, but I wouldn’t mind getting recommendations sometimes either.
It would also be interesting to see how this model would work: selling tickets on the basis of “I queue up for a ticket costing N dollars, ready to dash on the day of the concert if a ticket comes but also prepared to lose the money if a ticket is available but I can’t attend”. The idea is that, one day before the concert, all the seats not normally sold are distributed to those in this queue starting with those who placed a higher amount in their bid, and if the amounts are the same, then those who applied earlier, and so on until the tickets run out. Meanwhile, the application includes consent that the money will either be charged on a specified day or not at all if no seats are available. Ultimately, the entire venue fills up, and the day before the concert brings in much more money than it would have without this system.
Interesting. It turns out that before Russia imposed a temporary ban on kangaroo meat imports, it consumed 70% of all kangaroo meat produced in Australia.
It turns out that not only do camels roam in Australia, but there are more of them than in Central Asia and the Middle East, and Australia actively sells them to Saudi Arabia, for instance. Moreover, camels were introduced to Australia from the Middle East by Afghans, who left quite a significant (and positive) mark on the history of Australia.
For example, here’s a photo of the Ghan train — it features a camel on its logo. This is no coincidence; it is actually named after those Afghans who brought the camels.
Also interesting is that camels are originally from our regions. Yes, the USA is, in fact, the homeland of camels. According to some estimates, camels first appeared in North America between 40 and 50 million years ago, and 3 million years ago, they crossed into Asia via a land bridge in the Bering Strait area, and then made their way to Africa. In recent years, convincing evidence has been found that these animals inhabited almost all of North America. And of course, the climate was different back then.
Moreover, I read that there is such a thing as “kangatarianism” — a practice of following a diet that excludes the meat of all animals except kangaroo, for environmental and ethical reasons.
Also, it turns out that there are tree kangaroos (Tree-kangaroo). Also, in English, a group of kangaroos is called “a mob” – a gang 🙂 However, in Australian English, mob is not used in the same connotation as “mafia” or “gang”. Indeed, a group of crows with their “murder of crows” isn’t too far off either.
Oh, how could I not mention etymology! There is a legend that the word “kangaroo” means “I don’t understand”. I thought so too until I looked into it.
Actually, “kangaroo” originates from the Guugu Yimithirr language, an Indigenous language of northern Australia, where gangurru specifically refers to a type of kangaroo. But it’s not that simple 🙂
It all starts when James Cook asked the Guugu Yimithirr what the animal was called — they answered gangurru, which did indeed denote it. The English borrowed this word as kangaroo.
Latter, half a century later, the etymology starts to get tangled. In 1820, a certain Philip King sailed along a river near Cook’s landing place and recorded a list of words from the local Guugu Yimithirr dialect. Everything matched Cook’s records — except for one word. When asked “what is that animal called?”, they didn’t answer gangurru, but minha. It means that Cook clearly made a mistake. If minha is “kangaroo”, then what is gangurru?
This is where the myth begins. Some begin to think: maybe Cook misunderstood? Maybe he asked about the animal, and they didn’t understand him — and gangurru meant “I don’t know”? This version is a fabrication, and it didn’t go further than speculation, but it’s a funny story, historically plausible, and it began to be repeated. Thus, it turned into a persistent legend.
Then the confusion reversed. “Kangaroo” — then and now — became the stereotypical word from the “aboriginal language”. Every European settler coming to Australia knew exactly one word from Guugu Yimithirr — and only that one. The problem is that there were hundreds of languages in Australia, many of which were weakly or not at all related to Guugu Yimithirr. They simply did not have the word gangurru or its equivalent.
That’s where the problems arose. For example, settlers arrived in the area of modern Sydney and tried to “communicate” with the local people, i.e., they just yelled “kangaroo” at them. This would hardly have helped, but it is important to remember the geography: the Guugu Yimithirr lived on the Cape York Peninsula, in the far north of Australia, and the Sydney aborigines — the Iora people, speaking Dharuk language — lived almost at the other end of the continent. They didn’t know what the word “kangaroo” meant, so they assumed the Europeans were particularly interested in their domestic livestock. When cows began to be unloaded from the ship, the locals asked: “Is this your ‘kangaroo’?”
Such is the story.
Also, it turns out, kangaroos are good swimmers. In the second photo, a kangaroo tail sold in our town. For the dogs to gnaw on.
I’m on a break, came to pet the dog, and he’s sweetly snoring in my spot. Didn’t even crack open his eyes.
The seventh day of etymological excavation. Possibly the last—but who knows. The script still churns through dictionaries, and I continue to be amazed at how words distant in meaning can be close in origin.
Let’s start with something vivid. The words “peacock” and “crimson” are etymological relatives. “Peacock” entered Russian through German Pfäulein ← Pfau ← Latin pavō — “peacock.” And “crimson” is the color of a poppy in French ponceau, derived from paon (“peacock”), which also comes from pavō. Thus, “crimson” is essentially “peacock” color. Who would have thought.
“Apothecary” and “boutique” are etymological cousins. “Apothecary” comes from the Greek ἀποθήκη (“storehouse”). “Boutique” through Occitan and French, also from Greek, through Latin. One is about medicines, the other about dresses. But both are about “a place where something is stored and sold,” and both share the same ancestor.
“Lasso” and “lapel” are two words with opposite aesthetics, but share a common Latin ancestor laqueus — “noose, loop.” “Lasso” came through Spanish lazo → French lasso — pure cowboy stuff. “Lapel” came through the German Lätzchen, also pulling a thread from laqueus.
“Church” (kostel) and “chateau” might sound like the first is about Vilnius, the second about Bordeaux. In reality—both words come from the Latin castellum (“fortress”). “Church” came through Polish kościół — a church as a fortified building. “Chateau” — French castle, from the same source. Knights and priests—in the same etymological boat.
“Blackmail” and “chanson” have different meanings, but a common past. Both words trace back to Latin canō — “I sing.” “Chanson” directly means song. “Blackmail” through the French chantage, literally “singing” in the sense of “public disclosure” of something—i.e., compromising material. Didn’t know that, there’s a connection.
“Hyphen” and “motto” come from the Latin dīvidō (“to divide”), through different languages. “Hyphen” — “divider,” borrowed through German Divis. “Motto” — “slogan,” came from French devise. Both originally about division, but one divides words, the other—meanings.
“Sole” and “soil” are etymological twins. Both words come from Old Slavic подъшьва — “base, bottom.” One is in footwear, the other underfoot. Basically, the same: what you stand on. Come to think of it—logical.
“Hussar” and “course” are unexpected comrades in etymology. “Hussar” through Serbian gusar (“brigand”), from Latin cursus — “run, course.” Thus first: “fugitive,” then: “raider,” then: “hussar.” “Course” directly from cursus. All from the Latin verb currō — “to run.” Knights, universities, the currency market—all running.
The words “know,” “note,” “noble,” “cognition,” “notorious,” “gnosis,” etc., all in one form or another trace back to the Proto-Indo-European root ǵneh₃- — “to know, to recognize.”
“Cow” and “beef” are also twins: one from the Germanic root through Old English, the other from Latin bos through French boeuf. Historically from gʷṓws.
Decided to look for words ending in “age,” but not French. Found a dozen, but only “инструктаж” (“briefing”) passed the check. No instructage, of course, in French. More French morphology than French meaning.
Thank you for reading these posts all seven days. I think we can continue periodically, as more material accumulates.
Remember, all this was extracted through the automatic processing of an etymological dictionary. The script found words that were maximally distant in meaning but shared a common ancestor, plus filtered somewhat frequent words. Unfortunately, the dictionary is not perfect in marking and very much was omitted, but the result could be unhurriedly and not without pleasure processed.
Read more good stuff by clicking here –> #RaufLikesEtymology
The sixth day of etymological curiosities, #RaufLikesEtymology. My script is still running, which parses dictionaries and finds unexpected pairs and groups of words with a common origin but different destinies. Today features an entire series of such etymological doublets and even triplets.
Canvas (canvas), cannabis (cannabis), and hemp (industrial cannabis) are relatives. All three stem from the ancient word κάνναβις (kánnabis) — “cannabis,” possibly of Scythian or Thracian origin. Cannabis came directly from Latin, denoting the plant. Canvas came through French canevas — it’s a fabric, initially made from hemp fibers. Hemp came through Germanic languages (Old English henep), all with the same root (henep<-hanapiz<-cannabis).
Cannibal, Caribbean, and Carib — another intriguing triplet.
The word cannibal is a corrupted form of Cariba, as Columbus and his crew called the local tribes. They were thought to be cannibals. Caribbean — a geographical name of the same root. Carib — an ethnonym, the self-name of the people. Thus, “cannibal, “Caribbean, and “Caribs are words from one etymological family, just with different reputations.
Deutsch and Dutch (as the Japanese call Germany) are etymological twins, all stemming from one Proto-Germanic root þeudō — “people.” Deutsch is “German” in German, literally “people’s language.” Dutch formerly referred to any Germanic people, now strictly the Dutch.
Doitsu — a Japanese loanword from German, introduced through exchange in the 19th century. But in general, each neighboring country calls Germany differently in their languages because Germany as a single state appeared relatively recently (in 1871), and before that, it was a mosaic of separate principalities, duchies, free cities, and other political entities. Hence, different names have become entrenched in various languages — most often not for all of Germany, but for a particular tribe, region, or ethnic group. The French call it Allemagne — from Alemanni, Italians — Germania, but in casual conversation might also say tedesco (German), from the same root as Deutsch, Latvians — Vācija, from an ancient Baltic word meaning “foreign or “foreigner, Finns and Estonians — Saksa and Saksamaa, from the Saxons — one of the Germanic tribes, Poles — Niemcy, from the Slavic němьcь, meaning “mute — those who don’t speak “our way,” are unintelligible. The same root is also in Old Slavic.
However, the Japanese say Doitsu — an adaptation of German Deutsch through Dutch intermediation, as the first Europeans to actively trade with Japan were indeed the Dutch.
Species and spice — both from the Latin speciēs, meaning “appearance, form. Species retained its scientific meaning — “species. Spice came through Old French espice, initially meaning “rare goods, and then narrowed down to “spices.” So spices are also “forms, just aromatic ones.
Corpus, corpse, corps — all from the Latin corpus (“body). But “Corpse” — a dead body, came through Old French cors, and “Corps” — an army corps, pronounced as “core, stuck with the French pronunciation, and “Corpus” — a legal or scientific “assembly of bodies, used in the academy.
Map and mop — etymological twins. Both originate from Latin mappa — “cloth, napkin. Simply, one through Old French became “map (because maps were drawn on fabric), and the other — “mop (by the direct use of the fabric).
Read more such goodness by clicking here —> #RaufLikesEtymology
Hi, I'm Rauf Aliev. 