• I’m quite impressed at the 16-year old (from the city where I did my university days) who managed to isolate plastic eating bacteria that can decompose plastic bags in a few months for a science fair project. The projection to a possible industrial solution is very interesting, although I’m not as blasé about the waste products as he is–even if it really is just water and CO₂¹, there’s still some work to be done to sell that at an industrial scale without adding yet more to our industrial carbon dioxide problems. Still, pretty damn impressive for a teen science fair, that’s for sure.
• I do wonder if all the people colouring things green to show support for Iranian democracy realize that they are symbolically aligning themselves with Moussavi–I suspect a large number never stopped to ask “why green?” Even of those who do know it, I wonder what percentage have any idea about Moussavi’s history. See previous Shirky comment on technology speed. Supporting democracy and the protestors seems like a good idea to me, but that doesn’t mean shutting down the critical faculties on the question of how to support them. (Oh, and if you want a cold-water-in-the-face antidote to the “Twitter is changing the world” meme, try this.)
• Generally speaking, I love when reviews of non-fiction books take on the entire sweeping area that the book being reviewed attacks, and attempt to place the book in a larger context as part of the review. Of those reviews I particularly love the ones that you can learn a lot from without ever actually reading the book in question. For instance, Laura Miller’s review of Richard Bernstein’s book The East, the West, and Sex: A History of Erotic Encounters. The book sounds like something that would be interesting to read, with occasional bouts of being frustrating, and I’ll probably get around to it at some point–if for no other reason than to use it as part of a program of mockery of one of my friends who has a definite pro-Asian bias in his female aesthetics. That’s not really relevant to the fact that I quite enjoyed reading the review.
• In Alaska, you make your own fun on the long, cold winter nights, apparently. For some reason the pictures in that gallery make me think of Wondermark.
• I wonder how many people know even the basics of US-Cuba relations that are laid out in the recent Nation article. There were a few things in there that I hadn’t been aware of on the history side. I wonder about the progression of US-Cuban relations over the near term future. I’m inclined to be cautiously optimistic, but serious experts in Cuba (whom I’m related to by marriage) indicate that they don’t see much potential for any change in the near term.
• There’s certainly a portion of the population² for whom the received wisdom about the NSA is that they’re a scary-competent organization, who’ve recruited the best minds for a couple of generations, and who are probably a decade ahead of what’s public knowledge about cryptography and related fields of research. Certainly if you read something like Bamford’s Puzzle Palace, you’re left with the impression of a very competent organization that was very good at its brief… at least up to the end of the time period the book covers. Given that, it’s very interesting to read an article by a former CIA analyst who challenges that with an utterly different message: that the agency is “a secretive, hidebound culture incapable of keeping up with innovation, or even working with industry”. That fits in with another set of my prejudices–about large organizations, agility, and competence–and thus pleases me. Especially the bits about the “spectacular failures” of the projects with the MBAesque codenames.
• You know how passive RFID tags work, right? You send a radio signal at them, and the signal powers up the chip, which can use that power to send a response. Pretty simple. Well, now we’ve got some people saying “hey, there’s a lot of radio waves around all the time in the air–why not design some tools to essentially do that same turn-it-to-energy trick and then use that continual harvesting of tiny bits of energy to charge a battery?” Or, in simpler terms: can we make cell phones that charge themselves out of thin air?
• I am vaguely interested in the Longbox project. I mean I hate DRM as much as the next guy (unless the next guy is like Cory Doctorow or something), so I’m not particularly interested in trading my first-sale-doctrine-enabled, reusable, loanable, transportable, obsolescence-proof physical comics for a locked up digital file, but that might not matter. And it might not because the Longbox guys made the very smart decision to support existing non-DRM files, even though they will mostly represent pirate content. I would write at length about why this was a very smart idea if this weren’t a linkpost, but for the short version let me ask this: would anyone have become interested in iPods if they couldn’t play your existing MP3s? And how many of those were legitimate content? Q.E.D. Additionally, were the price correct, I could easily see myself doing more “taste testing” in the digital space for things I would eventually buy in a print collection–although I suspect my retailer might not be happy to hear me say so.
• I am already mildly disturbed at having had two non-trivial ant incursions into the house already this year. I don’t need to be worried about migrating fire ants invading my territory, than you very much.
• Here’s a pretty reliable test for whether or not you’re a Canadian computer geek: read this. Now, while you were reading that, did your pulse pick up? Face flush? Feel little thrill of adrenaline? You’re a big old computer geek³.
• It’s funny because it’s true.
• You know what might work even better than Buddy Christ marketing to get people to go to church? Free beer!

And, since you can’t really top religion making itself into an SNL commercial parody, that should probably do it for tonight.

1. What about heat? Required? Released?
2. The “tinfoil hat” cypherpunk types. You know who you are.
3. If any of those reactions occurred primarily in response to the machine working on the LHC calculations, then you might actually be a big old physics geek. Further testing would be required.

I also have a book about the history of drinking in Nova Scotia on the go in the downstairs bathroom. Social history of alcohol has been of particular interest to me since I read one particular book a couple of years ago, and I always like the “local interest” stuff.

The largest portion of the book is dedicated to rum, that being the traditional tipple of the Maritimes–and actually the book shows an additional reason for that¹ beyond a port city’s obvious naval connections. And, of course, the history of rum-running and interactions with Prohibition are fiercely interesting.

Other large sections are dedicated to whiskey and beer (particularly the Keith family), and smaller ones to wine (and the Dial family) and other beverages.

One thing that caught my eye though, was the discussion of “spruce beer” and its long history in Nova Scotia. I’m a bit of an experimenter with beer, and I’ve been known to try some “heritage” recipes–things like Fraoch Heather Ale from Scotland or Dogfish Head’s beer made from Iron Age recipes–but “spruce beer” was a new one on me.

Well, it turns out that early settlers were making beer out of pretty much anything they could throw in a bucket of water:

Settlers know that when certain common substances immersed in warm water in “just the right proportion” are left to their own devices long enough alcohol will be manufactured.

The results: ale; malt beer; hop beer; bee’s beer—like mead, which also uses fermented honey; buck beer—”North Shore Champagne”—strong brew, like a bock beer; spruce beer.

I’ve actually tried all of those except spruce beer, so my curiosity was piqued.

In eighteenth century Nova Scotia’s culture of drinking, spruce beer drove the dances of rural farmers and strived to numb (or cheer up) the brutish lives of garrison soldiers. A punishing beverage, spruce beer was brewed from a recipe comprised of spruce tips, or spruce shoots, mixed with hops, yeast, water, and (a small mercy) molasses.

“A punishing beverage”? 18th century brewing techniques couldn’t have made it as strong as today’s high alcohol beers, so the “punishing” there must be a reference to the next morning, right? If the congeners in red wine can produce a headache, imagine what might come out of that kind of brew?

Biologists have discovered spruces, indeed all conifers, to be abundant in flavonoids commonly known for their antioxidant activity in combating free radicals thought responsible for naladies ascribed to the aging process and the onset of major diseases.

Of course, nothing says there can’t be upsides as well.

Anyway, the implication of the next section is that people managed to get pretty blootered on it.

• “The cup that cheers but not inebriates” is a non-alcoholic version of spruce beer (akin to root or ginger beer).
• Alcoholic and nonalcoholic spruce beers depend on the quantity of molasses used.
• Homebrews of spruce beer loosened inhibitions at farm dances. The menfolk imbibed; the womenfolk abstained; a good time was had by all, half of them would be told.

Apparently it was startlingly common around here–to the point of being a daily ration. This is a quote from the Daily Order for the Highland Regiment in North America, circa 1759 (you can see a scan online):

“Spruce beer is to be brewed for the health and conveniency [sic] of the troops which will be served at prime cost. Five quarts of molasses will be put into every barrel of Spruce Beer. Each gallon will cost nearly three coppers.”

I wonder what alcoholic strength you got from five quarts to barrel?

Winter orders that year instructed that each post should keep enough molasses on hand “to make two quarts of beer for each man every day.”

“The allowance was two quarts per day to each man, or 3 gallons and a half per week, for which he paid seven pence New York currency.”

Here’s what History Of Nova Scotia says about it, in the section on The Second Siege of Louisbourg, 1758:

“At Halifax, spruce beer was the big commodity and thought to be a very good beverage for the men. Captain John Knox set out a recipe for it: ‘It is made of the tops and branches of the sprucestrees, boiled for 3 hours, then strained into casks, with a certain quantity of molasses; and, as soon as cold, it is fit for use.”

Now Captain Knox’s (look, Scotsman named John Knox–go figure) recipe is pretty simple. A more detailed one was recorded in 1759, this recipe from General Jeffery Amherst (his name might not be familiar, despite the number of places named after him, but most Canadians would recognize him by proxy if he was identified as “James Wolfe’s superior officer”):

• Take 7 pounds of good spruce.
• Boil well tills [sic] the bark peels off.
• Take the spruce out and put 3 gallons of Molasses to the liquor.
• Boil again, scumming it well as it boils.
• Take it out of the kettle and put it in a cooler.
• Boil the remainder of the water sufficient for a Barrel of 30 gallons.
• When millkwarm in the cooler, put in a pint of Yest [sic] into it and mix well.
• Then put in the Barrel and let it work for 2 to 3 days.
• Keep filling it up as it works out.
• When done working, bung it up with a tent peg in the Barrel to give it vent every now and then.
• It may be used in 2 to 3 days and keeps a great well.

I’m sorely tempted to try it out, I must admit. I know where I could get a barrel, too. Note also that “bark peels off” bit and what it implies–the many of the reference to old school spruce beer, and all the modern spruce beer recipes I could find with Google talk about using “spruce tips”. Not the British Army though–they threw in branches with bark.

Of course, the Drink-o-pedia has some descriptions of the taste from modern drinkers:

• “I’ve tried it once before. It takes superhuman will and much prayer to even get my nose near this stuff. It smells like Vick’s Vaporub.”
• “The flavour (if that is the right word for self-inflicted torture of this depth) is pine and menthol. If you ever wanted to lick a pine tree, here’s your chance.”
• “After 2 years of aging in the refrigerator, it is now one of the most refreshing, light summer beers I’ve ever tasted.”

Perhaps perversely, this just makes me want to try it more. I’m probably too lazy to brew my own, but I’ll keep my eyes open. Worst case scenario, I know of a place in Montreal where I can get some, so I can do that next time I’m over there. If it really tastes as described above (and you know any modern version would be much less… um… raw than the 18th century version) I shall be astounded that the garrison lads went through their allotments and that the farmers managed to get blackout drunk. Well, maybe not so astounded… they were Nova Scotians, after all.

1. The book cites a report from a Colonel Vetch at the Annapolis garrison to the British Lord Treasurer in 1711: “All provisions are very dear, particularly Rum, which must be instead of Beer, which the Severity of the winter freezes in that cold country.”

That’s Bullwinkle, the robot moose.

No, seriously. A robot moose.

Apparently the Natural Resources Department here in Nova Scotia uses him to catch people who are illegally trying to bag an endangered species.

I ran into a story today–admittedly a story from a couple of years back–about this, and it just makes me laugh. It’s a short story, but pure gold:

He had been driving with his wife and child when he stopped his car, jumped out, levelled a rifle over the roof, and fired at the fake moose.

Conservation officers were just metres away and arrested him.

In addition to the hunting ban, McLaren must also pay a $4,025 fine, and forfeit his car and rifle.

I mean, as if “robot moose” weren’t already funny enough, you have to picture this hillbilly (he had a rifle in the car, he stopped to shoot a moose over the roof of the car, he’s a hillbilly) as he realizes that rather than serendipitously bagging a forbidden moose, he’s actually fallen into a trap himself.

While that story points out that McLaren (no relation that I know of) was the first to be convicted of attempting to kill and endangered species, a little Googling shows me that Bullwinkle has been catching poachers for longer than that–I guess it was just a different crime. Here’s a bit from a 2006 story:

The Langilles were two of eight men charged after conservation officers used the robotic decoy in a sting to nab poachers.

Court was told the men were on their way to a deer hunt on Oct. 29 when they spotted the decoy about 65 metres off Liscomb River Road near New Chester in the District of St. Mary’s.

Defence lawyer Shawn MacLaughlin told the Chronicle-Herald that out of instinct, the two hunters each fired a single shot from their rifles when they spotted the decoy.

“Out of instinct”… instinct to kill endangered species, I guess. I note that those guys got much bigger fines than McLaren did, so maybe the old offense was more serious than the “attempting to kill and endangered species one”.

I totally know tonight’s dreams are going to include a moose-i-form Terminator that shoots back… while delivering one-liners in a voice that’s half cartoon Bullwinkle, half Arnold.

Usually my eyes scan over the headlines without paying much attention, but lately there have been a rash of headlines that serve to highlight just exactly where it is that I live.

Please, allow me to share.

On October 2nd I noticed a headline about a “wayward moose” troubling Pictou county. I can’t tell you the actual headline, since later that day the story was updated and all I have is the current headline. Here’s that current headline, with a snippet of the article:

Moose dies during relocation attempt

The wayward moose near Pictou has died.

Officials from the Nova Scotia Department of Natural Resources shot the endangered moose with a tranquillizer gun Thursday, then used a helicopter to airlift the animal out of the area.

“The team worked pretty quick,” said Alan Blinn, DNR area supervisor.

By the time they lowered the moose onto a trailer two minutes later, however, it was dead.

“Moose are a highly stressful animal, and of course it was very stressed out when we were trying to catch it and tranquillize it,” Blinn said. “A combination of the stress and drugs might have done this.”

The later half of the article contains most of the text that was originally there when it was just a “moose on the loose” story. What’s been edited out was the background on how moose are in danger due to brain worms. That really caught my eye because it’s sad, and also–to be totally honest–because any combination of “moose” and “brain worm” triggers my Invader Zim neurons.

There was a write up that paragon of journalism, The Truro Daily News, late last month about moose and brain worms, triggered by the wayward moose. You can check it out. (Also, the Michigan DNR has a more technical writeup).

Anyway, on October 3rd, one another of the top stories was this shocking followup:

Pictou County moose fell from chopper

It turns out the moose that died Thursday was dropped from a helicopter.

The Nova Scotia Department of Natural Resources initially said the endangered moose likely died of a combination of drugs and stress.

But on Friday, a spokesman for the department admitted the net that held the moose came loose from the cable as the helicopter took off.

It’s terribly sad for the moose, of course, but the idea of a cover-up here just cracks me up.

And what were the other two headlines that day?

Police seize 200 marijuana plants in Cape Breton

This one’s worth reading just for the classic CBI grammar displayed by the Staff Sgt.

Another prisoner mistakenly released in N.S.

I think the first word in that headline says it all.

And today? Well, let me pick out just one of the top three stories.

Starving kittens, puppies abandoned in Glace Bay

’nuff said?

I’ll explain why, but it will take a second, so either throw a pizza in the oven (hi Neil!) and settle down, or else skip along to the next entry.

Our story starts with the Nova Scotia Motor Vehicle Act. Specifically it starts with sections 106A and 285(1).

The first bit there says it’s an offence to speed. It’s the second bit that’s unique to Nova Scotia, and extra special: it says that anyone who speeds more by more than 15km/h (not quite 10mph for my American friends) will automatically get a seven-day license suspension.

While this may seem startlingly draconian to anyone from almost anywhere else in North America, it’s actually intended to be democratizing, rather than excessively punitive. Apparently the rationale is that fine-based speed enforcement allows people with money to flout the law, creating a de facto two-tier system. Of course the points-based approach already levels this out in the long run, but apparently the Nova Scotia legislature felt that since that system would require someone to get several tickets before there were any repercussions more serious than fines, they would enact this short-term suspension as a way of making people with more income drive more slowly from the word go.

This probably works, for the people who know about the law, since I rarely see people in Nova Scotia exceeding the posted speed limits by more than around 10km/h on the highways. I certainly don’t–I am rarely in a hurry these days, and if road conditions are good I tend to just stick my cruise control at 14km/h over the limit when I’m on the highway.

That how I managed my first six years in Nova Scotia without a ticket.

However, highways aren’t the only place where you can exceed the posted speed limit, and Nova Scotia is just full of places where the speed limit is lower than you might expect it to be. For instance, during my six ticketless years I once got a stern warning for driving 75 in a 60 zone (which I narrowly got out of because I had Sarah with me), when I thought it was 80–apparently the single lane highway, which had been 80km/h for the last 30 km suddenly dropped to 60 in this one spot. Purely by coincidence, this spot is where the cop giving out tickets was sitting.

Another nasty spot of this type is where the biggest highway in the province suddenly turns into an urban surface street. At the top of the hill it’s 100km/h, at the bottom it’s 50km/h. The hill is steep enough that cars will actually pick up speed coasting down it.

As you can probably guess, I ran afoul of s106A(b) in this spot. My typical behaviour at this spot had been to do most of my braking at the foot of the hill, which did, in fairness, put me afoul of the posted maxima.

This, however, was in August. So why am I talking about it, at length, in December?

Well, the speeding ticket had a proposed court date on it, at which time I could appear in court and have my actual court date set, if I intended to dispute the ticket. If, on the other hand, I had no intention of disputing the ticket, I could pay the fine any time before the putative court date, and have my seven-day suspension begin on that same “court date”.

Well, it turned out that the date I would appear in court, or have my suspension begin, was two days before my planned family vacation in Ontario. My planned driving vacation in Ontario.

So, my plan was to wait, appear in court, get a court date (presumably after my vacation), thus avoiding the problem of being suspended while I was driving 5000km on vacation. (I am skipping a lengthy part of the story here where I determine that Nova Scotia has no equivalent to POINTTS).

As the October date approached, though, I started to get paranoid about the possibility of the court assigning a trial date during my vacation, or of having to suffer some kind of additional fines/court costs, whatever.

So, a week or so before the date, I made my way down to the court house to have a discussion with the court clerks.

And that’s when I found out that if you just pay the fine before the court date, you can pick the seven days that you will be suspended on. They have to be seven continuous days, but you can set them whenever you want. In fact, when I asked the clerk to see a calendar, she passed to saying “This only goes until March”. This was in October. So clearly they didn’t have a problem with you scheduling it quite far in advance.

Anyway, I picked the week centered around the first weekend in November–I had an out of town guest coming that weekend, and I figured he could be my chauffeur on the weekend, breaking up my seven days of drivinglessness.

The clerk then went on to, in a typically friendly Nova Scotia style, give me her office number and tell me to just call her if I needed to move the suspension week for any reason.

This was the plan until I was required to appear in Boston the first week of November. Since I prefer to drive down there rather than flying, making myself around $700 profit on the mileage allowance, I needed to move the suspension.

Since I knew Trish’s family, including at least three drivers, would be staying with us at Christmas, I called and moved the suspension to the 23rd-30th of December.

And that’s why I am climbing the walls right now.

The first couple of days were no problem, since we had visitors and Christmas celebrations. Friday it was really starting to sting. Today it is positively driving me up the walls–and we did get out for some family stuff today.

Eleven and a half hours and I can drive again.

Man, it will be sweet.