Showing posts with label Nuclear Weapons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nuclear Weapons. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 27, 2025
Sunday, October 27, 2024
Terminally (Expletive) Dumb
I have no grounds to believe that a Third World nation could build ICBM's
with the resources available to them nor could I believe that they could
acquire Russian or Chinese surplus missiles without someone finding out about
it. (Except of course for members of our own mainstream media who would
bury the story.) But if those double-damned murderers would pull their noses out of
their textbooks and actually pay attention to the real world and real
history they might notice something. That attempts by culturally
'eastern' nations or empires, such as Persia and Carthage, to destroy or
conquer western nations, such as Greece and Rome, not only fail but
fail catastrophically. An attack with fission or fusion bombs on the
Anglosphere nations in general or the United States in particular would
kill millions of civilians and leave several hundred million
really and truly angry Anglo-Americans with a largely intact
industrial base and the best trained and equipped armed forces on the
planet to serve as the cadre for a more massive volunteer force. When
the rubble in that nation
stops bouncing I would expect that the Anglosphere nations will
effectively OWN the planet and that Collectivism will be a doctrine practiced only
in Hell.
Say hello to the Imperium America.
Part the nose in the textbook problem that appears to plague them is that their belief that third world nukes may be sufficient to shatter our civilization may be the result of being mentally stuck in the master/slave culture box. Some of their nukes, which would have to be delivered by smugglers instead of missiles, will be used to decapitate our political leadership. This would briefly stun us, but it would not totally paralyze us as it would if we were a master/slave culture like the Socialist states. As a Citizen Ruled Republic we can replace our own political leadership from our own ranks in short order. Something that third worlders stuck in the master/slave paradigm may not be able to understand. And Washington* isn't a holy city for us. Even though they could wreck Washington the President Of The United States will still be able to govern effectively from behind a folding card table in a tent in the middle of a wheat field. Of course I won't say which wheat field.
Say hello to the Imperium America.
Part the nose in the textbook problem that appears to plague them is that their belief that third world nukes may be sufficient to shatter our civilization may be the result of being mentally stuck in the master/slave culture box. Some of their nukes, which would have to be delivered by smugglers instead of missiles, will be used to decapitate our political leadership. This would briefly stun us, but it would not totally paralyze us as it would if we were a master/slave culture like the Socialist states. As a Citizen Ruled Republic we can replace our own political leadership from our own ranks in short order. Something that third worlders stuck in the master/slave paradigm may not be able to understand. And Washington* isn't a holy city for us. Even though they could wreck Washington the President Of The United States will still be able to govern effectively from behind a folding card table in a tent in the middle of a wheat field. Of course I won't say which wheat field.
*Which at the time it was built was located out in the middle of nowhere.
Sunday, August 06, 2023
Anniversary
From Xerxes99 at Fark.com as a caption to this photograph:
Nothing more beautiful in the world if you ask me...Especially when you get to witness trembling Japanese tourists taking pictures of it.
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Wednesday, February 07, 2018
Terminally F**king Dumb
I have no grounds to believe that the Kim Dynasty could build ICBM's
with the resources available to them nor could I believe that they could
acquire Russian or Chinese surplus missiles without someone finding out about
it. (Except of course for members of our own mainstream media who would
bury the story and blame President Trump when missiles are finally
launched.) But if those double-damned murderers would pull their noses out of
their Marxist textbooks and actually pay attention to the real world and real
history they might notice something. That attempts by culturally
'eastern' nations or empires, such as Persia and Carthage, to destroy or
conquer western nations, such as Greece and Rome, not only fail but
fail catastrophically. An attack with fission or fusion bombs on the
Anglosphere nations in general or the United States in particular would
kill millions of civilians and leave several hundred million
really, really, really angry Anglo-Americans with a largely intact
industrial base and the best trained and equipped armed forces on the
planet to serve as the cadre for a more massive volunteer force. When
the rubble in North Korea
stops bouncing I would expect that the Anglosphere nations will
effectively OWN the planet and that Marxism will be a doctrine practiced only
in Hell.
Say hello to the Imperium America.
Part the nose in the textbook problem that appears to plague the Kim Dynasty is that their belief that North Korean nukes may be sufficient to shatter our civilization may be the result of being mentally stuck in the master/slave culture box. Some of their nukes, which would have to be delivered by smugglers instead of missiles, will be used to decapitate our political leadership. This would briefly stun us, but it would not totally paralyze us as it would if we were a master/slave culture like the socialist states. As a citizen ruled republic we can replace our own political leadership from our own ranks in short order. Something that the Marxists stuck in their master/slave paradigm may not be able to understand. And Washington is not a holy city for us. Even though they could wreck Washington, President Trump, or his successor, will still be able to govern effectively from behind a folding card table in a tent in the middle of a Kansas wheat field. Of course, I won't say which Kansas wheat field.
Say hello to the Imperium America.
Part the nose in the textbook problem that appears to plague the Kim Dynasty is that their belief that North Korean nukes may be sufficient to shatter our civilization may be the result of being mentally stuck in the master/slave culture box. Some of their nukes, which would have to be delivered by smugglers instead of missiles, will be used to decapitate our political leadership. This would briefly stun us, but it would not totally paralyze us as it would if we were a master/slave culture like the socialist states. As a citizen ruled republic we can replace our own political leadership from our own ranks in short order. Something that the Marxists stuck in their master/slave paradigm may not be able to understand. And Washington is not a holy city for us. Even though they could wreck Washington, President Trump, or his successor, will still be able to govern effectively from behind a folding card table in a tent in the middle of a Kansas wheat field. Of course, I won't say which Kansas wheat field.
Thursday, January 07, 2016
Senator Cruz On The North Korean Nuclear Test
For the record I'm in favor of preemptive actions to terminate the North Korean and Iranian nuclear weapons programs.
And should there be a nuclear attack on the United States or a third nation such as Israel I am also in favor of applying the death penalty to those who have facilitated the rogue antion nuclear programs, including Barack Obama along with Bill and Hillary Clinton.
Thursday, August 06, 2015
Anniversary
On this day 70 years ago the first operational nuclear weapon was used against a nation that initiated a war against the United States and I fully expect The Big Zero to openly condemn the action.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Step Back - Part 18
The Eagle was under spin as Judith Grant was being wheeled by a medical
assistant into the main shipboard mess. On this morning she would eat a
solid breakfast for the first time since she was brought on board.
She was wheeled up to the head table and to a position to the left of the head of the table. Doctor Boatman sat down on the opposite side of her. The chair at the head of the table remained empty.
Alice looked at the empty chair for a moment and spoke.
“He’s usually early for breakfast.” She said.
“Who is?” Asked Judith.
“Dad.” She replied.
At that moment Evelyn Boatman came to the table . In his hands were a fully loaded plate, a cup of coffee and the eating utensils.
Alice spoke up.
“Dad, you don’t have to go through the line like everyone else!”
“Of curse I do,” he replied, “As the mission commander I have to set a good example.”
“It’s not that!” Said Alice. “It’s not that at all! You’re still recovering from that gunshot wound and you still need to take it easy.”
“Yes, Doctor Boatman.” He said.
Judith quietly stared at the two. Her mind saw a that the doctor was obviously older but she spoke to a boy her age as if he were her father.
“I don’t understand.” She said.
Evelyn replied.
“Miss Grant, you are still recovering from that fall you took while leaving your father’s house. Try to remember farther back. What was reported about my apparent youthful state?”
Then she remembered and replied.
“That you’ve underwent a treatment that recreates your mind in a newly grown body.”
“Yes.” He said. “And you were in a very bad condition when you were brought aboard, Doctor Boatman was actually prepping to do the procedure on you.”
“Yes.” Said Doctor Boatman.
“You were?” Said Judith.
“Yes,” Doctor Boatman replied, “The recording of the memories we could have done right away, but it would take about two standard years to grow a new body. And the new body would be at the equivalent age of twelve standard years.”
“And then comes the fun part.” Said Evelyn.
“The fun part?” Said Judith.
“Waking up.” He replied. “It takes time for the conscious mind to learn how to speak again and use the new body. So much so that some people have opted to not do the procedure for a second time.”
“Unfortunately yes.” Said Alice.
She then looked down on her father’s plate. It was covered with scrambled eggs with cheese sauce, four sausage links, and hash brown potatoes.
“Dad. How many times have I told you to back off on the fats? There’s at least four eggs on that plate!”
“I’m a growing boy.” He replied with a smile.
Judith got the joke and keeled over in laughter.
If there was actually such a thing as midnight oil they would be burning large quantities of it at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan. In one of the assembly halls two Soviet bureaucrats who were administrators at the cosmodrome were watching as the nuclear payload was being attached to the Proton launcher.
“I still think we should send a properly manned Soyuz Capsule for a contact mission.” Said the senior administrator.
“The Proton is not a man rated launcher.” Said the second.
“Neither was the R-7 when we sent up Gagarin.”
The second administrator looked at the first
“So who would you send up?” He said.
“Leonov as the mission commander, and there would be no shortage of volunteers for the second seat.”
The second administrator nodded.
“So write up your suggestion.” He said.
“I did.” The senior replied. “There’s been no reply, yet.”
The second administrator thought he had better connections within the party apparatus, and it was at this time he decided to write his own paper on the subject.
At the base in Nevada a delegation from Israel, including the Netanyahu Brothers, were watching a documentary. Onscreen a middle aged civilian man with an obvious military bearing, the Presidential Chief of Staff Allen Keller, was being escorted to a grey painted advanced helicopter on the flight deck of a supercarrier. The number 75 painted in white was clearly visible on the island of the ship.
“What ship was this?” Yoni asked.
An uptime NCO, a navy chief, answered.
“The U.S.S. Harry S. Truman, sir.”
Yoni nodded.
Once the helicopter lifted off Keller spoke to the pilot over the intercom.
“Lieutenant?” He practically shouted over the noise of the main rotor. “How far east can we go?”
“Did you want to see Jerusalem, sir?” The pilot replied.
“Yes!” Keller shouted.
“Me too!” The pilot shouted back.
Yoni had another question.
“What type of helicopter was that?”
“A Sikorsky SH-60 Seahawk, sir.”
The Seahawk flew over the beachhead set up by the Marines as one of the evacuation points for the survivors. The pilot had chosen to fly low as he approached the hills to avoid hostile MANPAD missile fire.
And then they saw it.
In the final hours of the Six-Day War in 1967 the Chief Rabbi of the IDF had desperately searched for some army engineers and some explosives. He wanted to remove the abomination, the Al Aqsa mosque, that the Arabs had built on the Temple Mount.
Forty five years and a few months later, the wish was finally granted.
The abomination was gone. The Temple Mount was for all practical purposes cleared of all but the smallest pieces of stone. Of the city of Jerusalem all that remained was ashes and rubble. There were no living things, human, plant or animal, to be seen.
“I think we've seen enough, Lieutenant.” Keller shouted.
“Aye, aye, sir!” The pilot replied.
The Seahawk turned back toward the beachhead.
She was wheeled up to the head table and to a position to the left of the head of the table. Doctor Boatman sat down on the opposite side of her. The chair at the head of the table remained empty.
Alice looked at the empty chair for a moment and spoke.
“He’s usually early for breakfast.” She said.
“Who is?” Asked Judith.
“Dad.” She replied.
At that moment Evelyn Boatman came to the table . In his hands were a fully loaded plate, a cup of coffee and the eating utensils.
Alice spoke up.
“Dad, you don’t have to go through the line like everyone else!”
“Of curse I do,” he replied, “As the mission commander I have to set a good example.”
“It’s not that!” Said Alice. “It’s not that at all! You’re still recovering from that gunshot wound and you still need to take it easy.”
“Yes, Doctor Boatman.” He said.
Judith quietly stared at the two. Her mind saw a that the doctor was obviously older but she spoke to a boy her age as if he were her father.
“I don’t understand.” She said.
Evelyn replied.
“Miss Grant, you are still recovering from that fall you took while leaving your father’s house. Try to remember farther back. What was reported about my apparent youthful state?”
Then she remembered and replied.
“That you’ve underwent a treatment that recreates your mind in a newly grown body.”
“Yes.” He said. “And you were in a very bad condition when you were brought aboard, Doctor Boatman was actually prepping to do the procedure on you.”
“Yes.” Said Doctor Boatman.
“You were?” Said Judith.
“Yes,” Doctor Boatman replied, “The recording of the memories we could have done right away, but it would take about two standard years to grow a new body. And the new body would be at the equivalent age of twelve standard years.”
“And then comes the fun part.” Said Evelyn.
“The fun part?” Said Judith.
“Waking up.” He replied. “It takes time for the conscious mind to learn how to speak again and use the new body. So much so that some people have opted to not do the procedure for a second time.”
“Unfortunately yes.” Said Alice.
She then looked down on her father’s plate. It was covered with scrambled eggs with cheese sauce, four sausage links, and hash brown potatoes.
“Dad. How many times have I told you to back off on the fats? There’s at least four eggs on that plate!”
“I’m a growing boy.” He replied with a smile.
Judith got the joke and keeled over in laughter.
If there was actually such a thing as midnight oil they would be burning large quantities of it at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan. In one of the assembly halls two Soviet bureaucrats who were administrators at the cosmodrome were watching as the nuclear payload was being attached to the Proton launcher.
“I still think we should send a properly manned Soyuz Capsule for a contact mission.” Said the senior administrator.
“The Proton is not a man rated launcher.” Said the second.
“Neither was the R-7 when we sent up Gagarin.”
The second administrator looked at the first
“So who would you send up?” He said.
“Leonov as the mission commander, and there would be no shortage of volunteers for the second seat.”
The second administrator nodded.
“So write up your suggestion.” He said.
“I did.” The senior replied. “There’s been no reply, yet.”
The second administrator thought he had better connections within the party apparatus, and it was at this time he decided to write his own paper on the subject.
At the base in Nevada a delegation from Israel, including the Netanyahu Brothers, were watching a documentary. Onscreen a middle aged civilian man with an obvious military bearing, the Presidential Chief of Staff Allen Keller, was being escorted to a grey painted advanced helicopter on the flight deck of a supercarrier. The number 75 painted in white was clearly visible on the island of the ship.
“What ship was this?” Yoni asked.
An uptime NCO, a navy chief, answered.
“The U.S.S. Harry S. Truman, sir.”
Yoni nodded.
Once the helicopter lifted off Keller spoke to the pilot over the intercom.
“Lieutenant?” He practically shouted over the noise of the main rotor. “How far east can we go?”
“Did you want to see Jerusalem, sir?” The pilot replied.
“Yes!” Keller shouted.
“Me too!” The pilot shouted back.
Yoni had another question.
“What type of helicopter was that?”
“A Sikorsky SH-60 Seahawk, sir.”
The Seahawk flew over the beachhead set up by the Marines as one of the evacuation points for the survivors. The pilot had chosen to fly low as he approached the hills to avoid hostile MANPAD missile fire.
And then they saw it.
In the final hours of the Six-Day War in 1967 the Chief Rabbi of the IDF had desperately searched for some army engineers and some explosives. He wanted to remove the abomination, the Al Aqsa mosque, that the Arabs had built on the Temple Mount.
Forty five years and a few months later, the wish was finally granted.
The abomination was gone. The Temple Mount was for all practical purposes cleared of all but the smallest pieces of stone. Of the city of Jerusalem all that remained was ashes and rubble. There were no living things, human, plant or animal, to be seen.
“I think we've seen enough, Lieutenant.” Keller shouted.
“Aye, aye, sir!” The pilot replied.
The Seahawk turned back toward the beachhead.
Thursday, August 07, 2014
Another Excerpt
I took a train to New York. A group of gentlemen who called themselves the Emergency Committee asked me to meet with them.
They wanted a starship.
On looking back to meet with them may have been a mistake.
The meeting was held the afternoon of my arrival in a palatial tower off of Central Park. I was led to a meeting room on the penthouse level by a male African staff member. I set down my overnight bag as I led into the room. The Emergency Committee was made up of elderly white-haired gentlemen who were impeccably dressed for a bunch of groundhogs.
The apparent chairman of the committee spoke.
“Doctor Boatman, It is a pleasure to meet you.”
I replied.
“It’s Mister Boatman, I only have a Masters in Astronautical Engineering.”
“Well yes, but I’m sure we can arrange for a doctorate for you.”
“I’ll pass.” I replied calmly. “An honorary degree isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”
Already these gentlemen had earned my disdain.
The Chairman had not expected that, after a pause he spoke again.
“If you could please take a seat?”
The African staff member pulled out a chair for me at the table and I sat down.
I spoke.
“So what did you gentlemen wish to talk about?”
The Chairman replied.
“We want you to build a ship for us.”
“Okay,” I said, “get in line.”
The Chairman smiled and shook his head.
“No, Mister Boatman, you don’t understand, we want you to work exclusively for us.”
I didn’t have to think about the answer.
“No.”
All the members of the committee were visibly stunned.
The Chairman raised his voice a bit to speak again.
“We will reward you very well!”
“And how will I enjoy this reward?” I replied. “Even if the Earth isn’t hit by Niven Sixty-Nine it will likely be rendered uninhabitable as a result of the effects of the passage. The consequence is that any reward you could offer would be absolutely meaningless.”
The committee briefly stared at me in silence.
I broke the silence.
“Gentlemen, the ethical rules for emergencies apply here, my goal is to save the largest number of rational and productive people as possible. The Boatman Corporation will build Exodus class starships for as long as possible for ourselves and for anyone who can raise the funds. We will not exclusively serve the interests of the anointed few. Is that clear?”
The Chairman slightly nodded before his reply.
“Yes Mister Boatman, that is clear.”
I then clasped my hands and leaned forward before speaking.
“Now gentlemen, how many ships do you require or can fund?”
The Chairman replied.
“Mister Boatman, we do not believe that the published specifications for the Exodus would fit our requirements. We require a single vessel that will carry one hundred thousand live passengers to Alpha Centauri.”
I shook my head before responding.
"Gentlemen, you may as well bolt a propulsion system to a medium size Lagrange colony.”
The Lagrange colonies were orbital habitats built at gravitationally stable positions at 60 degrees ahead and behind the Moon in the same orbit.
I continued.
“Even if you could build a proper starship the life support for a live passenger takes up far more mass than a hibernation system. Which in turn requires more mass for structure, propellant and other systems. The Exodus class is a reasonable design that can be mass produced using currently available technology. Your requirement simply isn’t doable under the present circumstances.”
The Chairman replied.
“Our requirement is based on an already published design.”
“Published when and where?”
The Chairman turned to the African staff member and spoke.
“Jackson, would you bring up the image of the Ark?”
From his seat across the room the African staff member entered a command at his work station. A vertical glass panel slid up from the surface of the table before the committee. A holographic image of a fictional interstellar vessel appeared within the panel. I immediately recognized it.
And I doubled over in laughter.
The Chairman didn’t understand.
“Mister Boatman?”
It took a few moments for me to recover before replying.
“Mister Chairman, that is an image from a documentary produced before The Reformation, and the design for ship is pure nonsense. We used to show it at Cal Tech at Rocky Horror style parties.
The committee apparently didn’t understand. One of the less elderly members meekly spoke up.
“What is Rocky Horror?”
With laser-like precision I looked straight at the board member and replied.
“Sir, have you never heard of The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”
“No, should I?”
These gentlemen had now earned my contempt. But I answered the man in a clear and level tone of voice.
“The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a film released in 1975 by Fox Pictures. It’s based on a stage production that was a campy nihilist parody of older horror films such as the original Frankenstein. It obtained a cult following where at midnight showings the members of the audience would shout back at the screen and would also dress up as characters from the production.”
The gentlemen of the board were apparently surprised to hear this. I summed up.
“Screenings of the picture show continue to this day at least once a year in places such as London, New York and Minneapolis.”
The Chairman spoke up.
“I don’t understand, what does this have to do with our project?”
I calmly replied.
“Gentlemen, the documentary Evacuate Earth was routinely mocked by the Astronautics Department at Cal Tech as it clearly had serious flaws. For example, there is absolutely no way that a big picture window at the bow of a sublight starship can remain unbroken. Furthermore the design of the habitat section is a complete waste of mass. And there is absolutely no way that a separate rotating habitat could be made to work with a non-rotating drive section.”
“But the Lagrange colonies have separate living and docking sections!”
“That’s because they don’t accelerate and can import more air as needed.” I replied. As is the rotating seal between the two sections isn’t perfect. There’s always a very tiny amount of leakage. And you won’t be able to resupply your air until you reach the destination.”
And as a result of this factor the Lagrange colonies will eventually be abandoned as their primary purpose has been fulfilled. As proposed by Dr. Gerard K. O’Neill back in 1974 the colonies served as manufacturing centers for solar power satellites orbiting the Earth. The facilities then served to build ships to go to the other planets. Now that we could build our own ships at Ganymede and other places in the Solar System the Lagrange colonies had fallen to the economically wayside.
I continued to speak.
“And you weren’t seriously thinking of using the Orion nuclear fission pulse drive to propel your starship?”
The Chairman was clearly taken aback.
“Why not?” He said.
“There simply isn’t enough refined fissionable material in existence to manufacture the nuclear charges to make it work, even with tritium boosting. I wrote my masters thesis on a design for an Orion drive starship and I had to limit the number of people carried to ten thousand. The journey would be made under very cramped conditions aboard the ship. And it would have to use some reactor grade plutonium as fuel for the propellant charges.”
The Chairman was clearly puzzled.
“I don’t understand, what is reactor grade plutonium?”
And some people wonder why I’m well paid for my work.
I answered in my college lecturer voice.
“Plutonium is produced in two isotopes, Plutonium-239 and Plutonium-240. The weapons grade material has a low amount of Plutonium-240, which is less stable and thus unsuitable for making weapons. Weapons grade fuel is produced by irradiating the basic uranium for as short a time as possible, roughly a year. Reactor grade material is the result of long term irradiation in normal power plant reactors and results in the generation of a higher percentage of Plutonium-240. The fuel with the highest fraction of Plutonium-240 was produced in the reactors of warships such as aircraft carriers and submarines. In this case the fuel rods were often kept in place for the entire operating life of the ship.”
Or that was the case for the last generation of nuclear fission powered ships. The earlier generation of nuclear fission powered warships had to be partially dismantled in order to refuel them.
I now had the complete attention of the committee.
“The old United States did develop an alloy of Plutonium and Uranium-238 to fuel their nuclear weapons, so that does help stretch the fuel supply a bit. And the use of tritium boosting for the charges also reduces the amount of plutonium fuel for each charge. Which in turn stretches the amount of fuel that’s usable. But you will have to bring a means to generate more tritium with you.”
“Why?” Said another committee member.
“Because tritium has a half life of twelve and a half years. If you attempt to bring the entire supply for the journey the tritium component of the braking charges would have decayed to uselessness before you arrived at your destination. You have to generate new tritium onboard your ship in order to boost your braking charges.”
I scanned the committee again before summing up.
“Fortunately the Inertial Confinement Fusion Drive on the Daedalus and Exodus does work and is far more effective at propelling a ship.”
The committee was speechless.
“In any case,” I said, “when you gentlemen come to your senses we can work out a deal. Until then, I have ships to build.”
I stood up and went to collect my overnight bag. The African staff member appeared to be clearly frightened of something as he rushed to open the door of the room for me. On exiting the building I made a decision and summoned a taxicab.
“Grand Central Station, please.”
Instead of going to the hotel I decided to return directly to Pasadena. Upon arrival I was met at the station by Susan.
They wanted a starship.
On looking back to meet with them may have been a mistake.
The meeting was held the afternoon of my arrival in a palatial tower off of Central Park. I was led to a meeting room on the penthouse level by a male African staff member. I set down my overnight bag as I led into the room. The Emergency Committee was made up of elderly white-haired gentlemen who were impeccably dressed for a bunch of groundhogs.
The apparent chairman of the committee spoke.
“Doctor Boatman, It is a pleasure to meet you.”
I replied.
“It’s Mister Boatman, I only have a Masters in Astronautical Engineering.”
“Well yes, but I’m sure we can arrange for a doctorate for you.”
“I’ll pass.” I replied calmly. “An honorary degree isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”
Already these gentlemen had earned my disdain.
The Chairman had not expected that, after a pause he spoke again.
“If you could please take a seat?”
The African staff member pulled out a chair for me at the table and I sat down.
I spoke.
“So what did you gentlemen wish to talk about?”
The Chairman replied.
“We want you to build a ship for us.”
“Okay,” I said, “get in line.”
The Chairman smiled and shook his head.
“No, Mister Boatman, you don’t understand, we want you to work exclusively for us.”
I didn’t have to think about the answer.
“No.”
All the members of the committee were visibly stunned.
The Chairman raised his voice a bit to speak again.
“We will reward you very well!”
“And how will I enjoy this reward?” I replied. “Even if the Earth isn’t hit by Niven Sixty-Nine it will likely be rendered uninhabitable as a result of the effects of the passage. The consequence is that any reward you could offer would be absolutely meaningless.”
The committee briefly stared at me in silence.
I broke the silence.
“Gentlemen, the ethical rules for emergencies apply here, my goal is to save the largest number of rational and productive people as possible. The Boatman Corporation will build Exodus class starships for as long as possible for ourselves and for anyone who can raise the funds. We will not exclusively serve the interests of the anointed few. Is that clear?”
The Chairman slightly nodded before his reply.
“Yes Mister Boatman, that is clear.”
I then clasped my hands and leaned forward before speaking.
“Now gentlemen, how many ships do you require or can fund?”
The Chairman replied.
“Mister Boatman, we do not believe that the published specifications for the Exodus would fit our requirements. We require a single vessel that will carry one hundred thousand live passengers to Alpha Centauri.”
I shook my head before responding.
"Gentlemen, you may as well bolt a propulsion system to a medium size Lagrange colony.”
The Lagrange colonies were orbital habitats built at gravitationally stable positions at 60 degrees ahead and behind the Moon in the same orbit.
I continued.
“Even if you could build a proper starship the life support for a live passenger takes up far more mass than a hibernation system. Which in turn requires more mass for structure, propellant and other systems. The Exodus class is a reasonable design that can be mass produced using currently available technology. Your requirement simply isn’t doable under the present circumstances.”
The Chairman replied.
“Our requirement is based on an already published design.”
“Published when and where?”
The Chairman turned to the African staff member and spoke.
“Jackson, would you bring up the image of the Ark?”
From his seat across the room the African staff member entered a command at his work station. A vertical glass panel slid up from the surface of the table before the committee. A holographic image of a fictional interstellar vessel appeared within the panel. I immediately recognized it.
And I doubled over in laughter.
The Chairman didn’t understand.
“Mister Boatman?”
It took a few moments for me to recover before replying.
“Mister Chairman, that is an image from a documentary produced before The Reformation, and the design for ship is pure nonsense. We used to show it at Cal Tech at Rocky Horror style parties.
The committee apparently didn’t understand. One of the less elderly members meekly spoke up.
“What is Rocky Horror?”
With laser-like precision I looked straight at the board member and replied.
“Sir, have you never heard of The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”
“No, should I?”
These gentlemen had now earned my contempt. But I answered the man in a clear and level tone of voice.
“The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a film released in 1975 by Fox Pictures. It’s based on a stage production that was a campy nihilist parody of older horror films such as the original Frankenstein. It obtained a cult following where at midnight showings the members of the audience would shout back at the screen and would also dress up as characters from the production.”
The gentlemen of the board were apparently surprised to hear this. I summed up.
“Screenings of the picture show continue to this day at least once a year in places such as London, New York and Minneapolis.”
The Chairman spoke up.
“I don’t understand, what does this have to do with our project?”
I calmly replied.
“Gentlemen, the documentary Evacuate Earth was routinely mocked by the Astronautics Department at Cal Tech as it clearly had serious flaws. For example, there is absolutely no way that a big picture window at the bow of a sublight starship can remain unbroken. Furthermore the design of the habitat section is a complete waste of mass. And there is absolutely no way that a separate rotating habitat could be made to work with a non-rotating drive section.”
“But the Lagrange colonies have separate living and docking sections!”
“That’s because they don’t accelerate and can import more air as needed.” I replied. As is the rotating seal between the two sections isn’t perfect. There’s always a very tiny amount of leakage. And you won’t be able to resupply your air until you reach the destination.”
And as a result of this factor the Lagrange colonies will eventually be abandoned as their primary purpose has been fulfilled. As proposed by Dr. Gerard K. O’Neill back in 1974 the colonies served as manufacturing centers for solar power satellites orbiting the Earth. The facilities then served to build ships to go to the other planets. Now that we could build our own ships at Ganymede and other places in the Solar System the Lagrange colonies had fallen to the economically wayside.
I continued to speak.
“And you weren’t seriously thinking of using the Orion nuclear fission pulse drive to propel your starship?”
The Chairman was clearly taken aback.
“Why not?” He said.
“There simply isn’t enough refined fissionable material in existence to manufacture the nuclear charges to make it work, even with tritium boosting. I wrote my masters thesis on a design for an Orion drive starship and I had to limit the number of people carried to ten thousand. The journey would be made under very cramped conditions aboard the ship. And it would have to use some reactor grade plutonium as fuel for the propellant charges.”
The Chairman was clearly puzzled.
“I don’t understand, what is reactor grade plutonium?”
And some people wonder why I’m well paid for my work.
I answered in my college lecturer voice.
“Plutonium is produced in two isotopes, Plutonium-239 and Plutonium-240. The weapons grade material has a low amount of Plutonium-240, which is less stable and thus unsuitable for making weapons. Weapons grade fuel is produced by irradiating the basic uranium for as short a time as possible, roughly a year. Reactor grade material is the result of long term irradiation in normal power plant reactors and results in the generation of a higher percentage of Plutonium-240. The fuel with the highest fraction of Plutonium-240 was produced in the reactors of warships such as aircraft carriers and submarines. In this case the fuel rods were often kept in place for the entire operating life of the ship.”
Or that was the case for the last generation of nuclear fission powered ships. The earlier generation of nuclear fission powered warships had to be partially dismantled in order to refuel them.
I now had the complete attention of the committee.
“The old United States did develop an alloy of Plutonium and Uranium-238 to fuel their nuclear weapons, so that does help stretch the fuel supply a bit. And the use of tritium boosting for the charges also reduces the amount of plutonium fuel for each charge. Which in turn stretches the amount of fuel that’s usable. But you will have to bring a means to generate more tritium with you.”
“Why?” Said another committee member.
“Because tritium has a half life of twelve and a half years. If you attempt to bring the entire supply for the journey the tritium component of the braking charges would have decayed to uselessness before you arrived at your destination. You have to generate new tritium onboard your ship in order to boost your braking charges.”
I scanned the committee again before summing up.
“Fortunately the Inertial Confinement Fusion Drive on the Daedalus and Exodus does work and is far more effective at propelling a ship.”
The committee was speechless.
“In any case,” I said, “when you gentlemen come to your senses we can work out a deal. Until then, I have ships to build.”
I stood up and went to collect my overnight bag. The African staff member appeared to be clearly frightened of something as he rushed to open the door of the room for me. On exiting the building I made a decision and summoned a taxicab.
“Grand Central Station, please.”
Instead of going to the hotel I decided to return directly to Pasadena. Upon arrival I was met at the station by Susan.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Munich Part II
The rulers of Iran have rule screwed us again.
As reported on the CNN Blog:
Mohammed in the Koran orders the followers to deceive their victims as a means of gaining power over them. The practical effect is that any agreement with a Muslim state in automatically invalid.
The fact of matter is that the Iranian state has been at war with the United States since its foundation. And by doctrine must remain so. The only course of action that could validly followed is to destroy Iran.
And the most effective and least costly means of doing so is nuclear bombardment.
Any questions?
As reported on the CNN Blog:
(CNN) -- Iranian Foreign Minister Mohammad Javad Zarif insisted Wednesday that the Obama administration mischaracterizes concessions by his side in the six-month nuclear deal with Iran, telling CNN in an exclusive interview that "we did not agree to dismantle anything."
Zarif told CNN Chief National Security Correspondent Jim Sciutto that terminology used by the White House to describe the agreement differed from the text agreed to by Iran and the other countries in the talks -- the United States, Britain, France, Russia, China and Germany.
Mohammed in the Koran orders the followers to deceive their victims as a means of gaining power over them. The practical effect is that any agreement with a Muslim state in automatically invalid.
The fact of matter is that the Iranian state has been at war with the United States since its foundation. And by doctrine must remain so. The only course of action that could validly followed is to destroy Iran.
And the most effective and least costly means of doing so is nuclear bombardment.
Any questions?
Sunday, December 29, 2013
A Statement On Foreign Policy
Let me make one point absolutely clear. Any state or non-state entity that makes war on the United States of America during my term in office will be defeated and will NEVER have the means to make war again. If that requires the use of NUCLEAR WEAPONS then I will do so.
If I find it necessary the aggressors will be eliminated from existence. Permanently.
Glenn Beck and David Barton on our first foreign war against a Non-European power. The War on the Barbary Pirates:
I learned about this war in a used history text that I found being given away by a school library. This war was not covered in any history course I attended at Edison High School in Minneapolis.
So much for public education.
Seriously, do yourself a service and do a search for the Wars Against the Barbary Pirates. This is a clear lesson on how to deal with aggressors in general, and Islamic Terrorists in particular.
If I find it necessary the aggressors will be eliminated from existence. Permanently.
Glenn Beck and David Barton on our first foreign war against a Non-European power. The War on the Barbary Pirates:
I learned about this war in a used history text that I found being given away by a school library. This war was not covered in any history course I attended at Edison High School in Minneapolis.
So much for public education.
Seriously, do yourself a service and do a search for the Wars Against the Barbary Pirates. This is a clear lesson on how to deal with aggressors in general, and Islamic Terrorists in particular.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
That Armageddon!
I'm thinking about what I will do when the murderers who rule Iran finally get around to dropping a nuke on Israel. I'm also thinking about how I will get away with it.
Friday, November 08, 2013
Nothing To Write About
President Barack Obama is an intellectual nihilist who is in apparent sympathy with the metaphysical and moral nihilists who rule Iran. As a result The Zero is allowing the the Iranian state to continue their program of enriching the uranium necessary to construct a basic fission bomb. Of course this is meaningless to The Zero. The truth is not important and human lives are not a value to him. All that matters to him is being in power.
Of course real authority comes with responsibility but why should The Zero care about a bunch of Jews being vaporized when he's firmly seated on the heap.
As I said, nothing to write about.
Of course real authority comes with responsibility but why should The Zero care about a bunch of Jews being vaporized when he's firmly seated on the heap.
As I said, nothing to write about.
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