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BobbiLynn
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Are we all just nuts, can we admit to that?
A question about perfect machines
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Are we all just nuts, can we admit to that?
Golddiggie
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BobbiLynn
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[
I think you are pretty interesting, trying to keep up with me and succeeding... you are not a lazy. entitled dumb ass. I meant that as a compliment.
Nope.. Only you can do that... I have a nice mellow going on so...
I think you are pretty interesting, trying to keep up with me and succeeding... you are not a lazy. entitled dumb ass. I meant that as a compliment.
BBL_Brewer
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The third voice just mumbles in the corner, you can barely hear it. Unless of course you give the first the two voices a beer and then he just whines like a little bich until he gets one too.
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BobbiLynn
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Sorry about asking a general question and expecting a specific answer. I can see now, that is an oxymoron.
Put all of yall together and you are friggin' brilliant and hilarious. All my love...
P.S. Has anyone seen the van lately? I swear I just seen, but where did it go?
Put all of yall together and you are friggin' brilliant and hilarious. All my love...
P.S. Has anyone seen the van lately? I swear I just seen, but where did it go?
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BobbiLynn
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If it starts leaking, you need to get that checked out, figure out where you went wrong.
Or, the final answer is... there is no answer..
Which one is it?
Damn, here I go again, just talking in circles. Is anyone out there less confused than me?
Or, the final answer is... there is no answer..
Which one is it?
Damn, here I go again, just talking in circles. Is anyone out there less confused than me?
Golddiggie
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It's over behind the bushes... Don't know where the guys are, but... Oh hell, turn around QUICK!!
As for the ox... Seems more like a Floridian thing to me.
arturo7
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Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay,
I'll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, —
Have you ever heard of that, I say?
Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, —
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.
Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, —
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, —
Above or below, or within or without, —
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out.
But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it could n' break daown:
"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t 's mighty plain
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;
'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."
So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That could n't be split nor bent nor broke, —
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees,
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum," —
Last of its timber, — they could n't sell 'em,
Never an axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through."
"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"
Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren — where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; — it came and found
The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred increased by ten; —
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came; —
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive,
And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.
Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundreth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. — You're welcome. — No extra charge.)
FIRST OF NOVEMBER, — the Earthquake-day, —
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There could n't be, — for the Deacon's art
Had made it so like in every part
That there was n't a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whipple-tree neither less nor more,
And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!
First of November, 'Fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson. — Off went they.
The parson was working his Sunday's text, —
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the — Moses — was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, —
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet'n-house clock, —
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!
What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, —
All at once, and nothing first, —
Just as bubbles do when they burst.
End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That's all I say.
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay,
I'll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, —
Have you ever heard of that, I say?
Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, —
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.
Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, —
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, —
Above or below, or within or without, —
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out.
But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
It should be so built that it could n' break daown:
"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t 's mighty plain
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;
'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."
So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That could n't be split nor bent nor broke, —
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees,
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum," —
Last of its timber, — they could n't sell 'em,
Never an axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through."
"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"
Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren — where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; — it came and found
The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred increased by ten; —
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came; —
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive,
And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.
Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundreth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. — You're welcome. — No extra charge.)
FIRST OF NOVEMBER, — the Earthquake-day, —
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There could n't be, — for the Deacon's art
Had made it so like in every part
That there was n't a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whipple-tree neither less nor more,
And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!
First of November, 'Fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson. — Off went they.
The parson was working his Sunday's text, —
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the — Moses — was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, —
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet'n-house clock, —
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!
What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, —
All at once, and nothing first, —
Just as bubbles do when they burst.
End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That's all I say.
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BobbiLynn
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It's over behind the bushes... Don't know where the guys are, but... Oh hell, turn around QUICK!!
As for the ox... Seems more like a Floridian thing to me.
I just turned around and now I am headed in the opposite direction. Do you think I'm going the "right" way?
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
If you think you are, then you're probably not.
BTW, I have a perfect machine at home. Sometimes it's in a safe, other times not. Always does as it's designed to, and has never failed me.
No, I'm not talking about anything biological or used in any biological function.
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BobbiLynn
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If you think you are, then you're probably not.
BTW, I have a perfect machine at home. Sometimes it's in a safe, other times not. Always does as it's designed to, and has never failed me.
Are you also challenging me to a duel? I'm game. What say you... high noon tomorrow?
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
I can't be there in person for tomorrow... Planning on starting my epic mead tomorrow. :rockin: Got the honey warming up now, so it should be good to mix up the initial amount. I plan on putting the balance into pint mason jars to be added as it slows down.
I could use the Zeus cannon if you're itchin for a duel.
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BobbiLynn
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Okay, we can do that later, the duel thing, ya know... if you are busy and sounds like you will be. I'm brewing like mad right now too.
So was that guy saying that an earthquake struck just as I was taking 'er out for a ride... and somehow I didn't notice that part? The poem fella...
So was that guy saying that an earthquake struck just as I was taking 'er out for a ride... and somehow I didn't notice that part? The poem fella...
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
Looks like your train of thought keeps getting derailed.
I'm making mead (no heating of the must above 100-110F so it's not brewing). This is the one where I want to see how far I can push WLP099. :rockin: I hope to at least get to it's listed tolerance level, if not above that.
I want that letter from the Jedi about the few thousand billion screams and then silence.
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BobbiLynn
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Looks like your train of thought keeps getting derailed.
And why are you trying to keep me on track? Because you are just trying to help?
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
Nahh... I just like watching the train-wreck happen.
It's better than a lot of movies (or things on TV) these days.
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BobbiLynn
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Nahh... I just like watching the train-wreck happen.
Television makes me mad, hubby can have the dang remote. I call it a noisemaker.
So, in the end, where do you think I'll crash? At your place? For the final duel? I'll pack my costume....
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
Won't be much of a duel...
Especially if you drive up all this way (I really don't like flying)... Not sure hubby would approve either.
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BobbiLynn
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Won't be much of a duel...
Yeah, he probably wouldn't and it is a long drive... hmmm.... I don't think the fact that I'm packing a costume would make him feel any better... Sounds pretty bad now that I read it back to myself...
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
Well, you see sweety there's this guy and he's been pissing me off so I'm gonna dress up and fight him. Yeah at his house. It will probably be in his bedroom. You're missing the point he pissed me off and I have to PUNISH HIM. So you understand sweety?
Golddiggie
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lmao!!!
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BobbiLynn
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Yeah, it probably won't fly, we'll see.... I better not even ask for his permission! He's going to say no.... no matter how I ask!! A secret duel or forget the whole plan? I'll be in big trouble if I don't shut up now.
Golddiggie
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BobbiLynn
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Won't help even if you tell him how I was dumping on his 'perfect machine'...
Honey, I was just defending your honor?
Dang, even that won't fly.
two_hearted
Well-Known Member
whoa, left this thread on page 1...
The places it's gone... the things it's seen...
The places it's gone... the things it's seen...
two_hearted
Well-Known Member
I have a feeling this thread may become one of those underground threads that we refer to. Like the EAC and mikedavid ones.
porcupine73
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Hm this is very interesting ...
Well right the first question is the definition of perfect. I would say perhaps the perfect machine would _never_ require any repairs, but could require maintenance.
So if, after all required maintenance peformed at least at the required intervals with the proper parts were done, which say might include periodic replacement of the oil seals at an interval involving calendar days / machine run time, it still sprang an oil leak, and the specifcations were that itw ould not leak oil if maintenand peroperly then it could nto be pefreect. Ok phew I darnk a lot f hnoemade sake tongiht and i thini I beter tak it ieasy.
Well right the first question is the definition of perfect. I would say perhaps the perfect machine would _never_ require any repairs, but could require maintenance.
So if, after all required maintenance peformed at least at the required intervals with the proper parts were done, which say might include periodic replacement of the oil seals at an interval involving calendar days / machine run time, it still sprang an oil leak, and the specifcations were that itw ould not leak oil if maintenand peroperly then it could nto be pefreect. Ok phew I darnk a lot f hnoemade sake tongiht and i thini I beter tak it ieasy.
Golddiggie
Well-Known Member
BobbiLynn said:
Maybe drug his possum soup or something.
:cross:
Problem is, once you've seen some of these things, you can't "un-see" them.
Some were not 'right' to begin with...
jgln
Well-Known Member
Does it leak beer?
Yes. Yes it does.
