Black Holes are the Universe’s Tectonic Plates

Scientists now say that black holes look more like fountains, than donuts

I remember when I read that “no one knows what is in the center of galaxies.” Then Stephan Hawking was lauded as the guy that figured out that there were probably black holes in the center of all galaxies. It was pretty obvious to me, as a kid.

Now, with all the “dark matter” hysteria, you’d think scientists would be able to make the obvious hypothesis that black holes are the universe’s tectonic plates. Just like the tectonic plates on Earth, recycle the surface of the planet, black holes recycle the surface of spacetime.

The idea that the universe continually expands until it rips apart is dumb. We already know from particle physics, that matter can pop in and out of our known universe, along with antimatter. The same should be true with black holes resurfacing our spacetime. As our universe expands, a timespace vacuum is created that will create matter to fill the expanding void.

We know black holes consume matter, but what offsets that matter consumption? Somewhere, matter is being sucked into the universe. When we find those locations, we’ll have our answer to dark matter. Finding where the matter is coming from, is the key to understanding what dark matter is.

I know that black holes are our subduction and obduction zones in the universe, though no one has really published the idea that black holes aren’t as similar as everyone imagines. Where are our orogenic belts and divergent boundaries for the universe?

The big question remains . . . where is the matter coming from, that is filling the void that is being created by our universe expanding at such a rapid rate? Black holes make matter disappear, but where does matter appear?

SW Steakhouse, after Steve Wynn Sold His Shares

My reviews on Google Maps, which is the best mapping platform on the planet, are being wasted, on Google. They don’t pay me, and they are the antithesis of evil in American politics.
I thought that the SW Steakhouse was the best restaurant in Las Vegas . . . but I’d never been there before.
So I went, and took my family.
Here’s how the three-out-of-five-star-meal went:

Both, the Sanuki, Wagyu, and the Filet Mignon were absolutely perfect.
The steak tartar was good.
The Seafood Spectacular was charred, in a way, that gave it a “steak-like” flavor. I didn’t like that, but if you want seafood, go to Lakeside.

I came for the Kobe beef, but they didn’t have it, tonight, and it wasn’t on the menu.

The service was quite good, from the general service staff. Plates were removed promptly and water was kept full.
Hosting was accommodating, even when we showed up an hour early.
I was disappointed with our waiter, Fernando’s service. He seemed to be a down-to-earth person, while on the job, at what I thought to be the best restaurant in Vegas. I expected to have a lot more formality. Instead, he actually tried to talk me out of the most expensive item on the menu, recommending that I try the American Waygu before trying the Japanese Sanuki.

Because it was my Mom’s birthday, I wanted everything to be perfect. I had a flower arrangement ordered for the table, and the Wynn did a perfect job with that. I also had a pre-authorization to pay for everything, and that completely flopped. At the end of the meal, Fernando was unable to find any preauthorization (not his fault, probably). I paid on the spot with a standard bill.

For a three person meal, at over $700 (with the tip), SW Steakhouse was fine. The ambiance was nice and my Mom liked it.

However, there are quite a few places in Vegas that have the same, or better, everything; be it food quality, service, or prices.

Gary Jules’ Mad World

I saw Donnie Darko alone, in 2004 on a sliver of land in the Atlantic, in November.  It was cold, windy, and lonely.  It was the perfect film for that night. It was creepy and strange, but had something to say.  I’m not really sure what that was, at the time . . . maybe even to this day.

There was a moment that things were clear in the film, and that was a montage with the song Mad World, a cover song for the original by Tears For Fears.  It showed several of the characters in various emotional states.  It was Bradbury melancholy, in sound and video.
Strikingly, a song released in the 80’s, had really struck a chord with Millennials, and maybe even bled into the pre and post generations.  Even the “Gears of War” video game franchise, adopted it in one of their sequels, at the beginning of one of their maps.  The slowed down cover from Gary Jules, is a commentary on our current, American culture.  We can play a video game, with all players controlling an avatar of grotesque violence, that frequently smashes the skulls of opponents or saws them in half, in beautiful 4K.

I liked the movie, but the song is what really stuck with me.

It reminds me of something like what Phil Connors heard every morning . . . “Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cooooold out there today . . . it’s cold out there everyday.”

The original song had a similar feel.  A feel that no matter how bad things are, there is a positive beat, and that we are all here for another day.

I graduated in the year 2000.  Is my generation feeling extreme dissatisfaction with the status quo, the rat race, and their childhood?  If you don’t get up early, is that bad?  Is it common to know people, but not be able to connect with them, in the way that you want, or expected to?
If you do get up early, and work hard, are you going nowhere?
Are we unable to feel real emotions, other than apathy and indifference.
Is being sad so horrible and terrifying that we want to die?

Maybe for some of us, but not for me.  It’s songs like this that remind me that no matter how bad that any of us think things are, we chose to be here, up until this moment, and at any moment, we can choose not to be.

That’s pretty empowering to me, and I’ve used that power, everyday that I’ve lived, and everyday that I choose to do so.









Zero of LWRC IC-A5

Long overdue, I just bought my first AR-15.

For all the lovers of the gas impinged design, let me just say, I love Conservatives, and I am one, but only in regard to politics.

There isn’t anyone that says LWRC’s M6 is crap.
Everyone agrees that the nickle-boron carrier is pimp.
Fully ambidextrous is a rare thing.

I’ve shot 300 rounds on my new rifle.  My friends from Minnesota tell me that I should spend as much or more on my scope as I did on the rifle.  A $2000+ scope seems a waste to me.  Seriously, we are talking about a device that puts a plus sign or a dot through a piece of glass.  Yes, I could spend $1000 on a tennis racket, but I think I’ll be ok with a $200 one, especially because I don’t play tennis.

I zeroed my scope with a quick release mount from American Defense.  It has a single lever that secures the scope.  It’s actually really awesome to be able to easily switch between open sights and the scope.
Although, with the open sights, I pretty much hit nothing that I wanted (20MOA), at 100 yards.  This was my first attempt at open sights on this rifle, and I have not made any adjustments on the open sights.  I’ll zero them at 50m on another date.

The manual says after 1000 rounds, I should clean it.  That’s one fifth of the barrel life.
I did see some some build up on the front of the rifle, where the piston system expels gas.  It looked exactly like the carrier would look after a couple hundred rounds through a direct impingement system, except it wasn’t in a place that matters.  I think I could burn the barrel before I would get any malfunction.

I’m so happy that this was my first AR rifle.  I couldn’t do any better for what I wanted.
The AK is obsolete.

Altered Carbon

The first season was quite good.

The nudity was great and realistic.  The Sci-Fi was totally confusing and cool.

Spoiler for one sentence!!!!!!
Dichen Lachman finally gets fully nude for a long time and it’s awesome.

There were some inane Feminist themes in the 8th-9th episodes that were hard to take, but it’s not just the men that are tortured to death, multiple times, so it’s kind of balanced.

Watch it, cause it’s awesome.



EA/Dice Battlefront II / 2 Review

Battlefront 1 was a huge disappointment on the Xbox One release date.  Lots of glitches, grammatical errors, terrible balancing of Star Cards and Heros, and limited content.

Battlefront 1, more than a year after its release, is a significantly better game than Battlefront 2.
I wish I could say that the sabotage (pun intended) of Battlefront II was malice, but it’s clearly just the incompetence of a corporation with too many opinions and no king.

I can’t tell describe how much I was excited for Battlefront II.  EA/Dice was going to take the best feedback from Battlefront 1, and give all of us a game that would be better than the last.  I expected better graphics, new maps, more heros and villains, and an experience that had the polish that Battlefield 1 has, but in the Star Wars universe.

Disappointed a second time on release.

The Beta was alright, for a beta.  With all the excitement and feedback from it, the obvious absurdities would be corrected, right?

Seeing the final release was devastating.

I’m going to jump to the chase and then break it down . . . Buy Battlefront 1 for $10, and forget about Battlefront 2 for a least 6 months to a year.

EA/Dice knows they fucked up this sequel, and they acknowledge it by saying, “listening to fans has been important in making sure Star Wars Battlefront II is the very best experience for all of you.”  Translation, “Please do our job for us, and tell us how to make something great . . . cause we forgot how.”

Sounds just like every politician out there.

Visually, Battlefront 1 is a beautiful game, with authentic sounds and sparks flying upon impact from laser blasters.  Turning your lightsaber off an on, is gratifying and sounds perfect.  Battlefront 2 has even better visuals, especially on Xbox One X, but lacks the classic feel, and a “feature” has been added . . . you can’t turn your lightsaber on or off.

I will say that I’m glad that lightsaber wielder can finally change from a left or right camera angle, but to take away the ability for lightsaber wielders to turn their lightsabers off or on, is unwarranted, and two steps back.

If you want any game, just because it has a Star Wars theme, then get Battlefront 1, cause it’s cheap and awesome.  Don’t buy the expansions, cause they are still expensive.  If the price of the expansions for Battlefront 1 don’t come down, then just stay away from the Battlefront franchise altogether for a year or more.

If you don’t have a lot of time . . . just take my word for it.  If you have a lot of time, then just read all the other reviews . . . cause after all, we will probably continue doing EA/Dice’s job for them as they repeatedly fail on this title, and we repeatedly mourn.



Quiet vs Loud Motorcycles, and the Zero FXS

zero motorcycle  

So, yesterday, I rode the best motorcycle, ever.  It’s electric, obviously.

This Zero FXS is basically an electric version of my Yamaha WR250X.  It’s a supermoto made for on and off-road riding.
In Sport Mode, from any speed from 0-60mph, with a flick of my wrist, I could pull away from any sport car.  The torque started dropping off after 60mph, up to it’s top speed of 85mph, but it was still easy to accelerate when necessary.

I love all the things that make electric motorcycles great, like virtually no maintenance, lower total cost of ownership, better reliability, and not ever having to deal with gasoline or oil.
However, what I like most about electric motorcycles, is that they are quiet.  This bike was even more quiet than the old zero motorcycle I test drove several years ago.  It was great to be able to hear everything around me.  I could even hear the suspensions of cars around me as they hit small bumps in the road, which was very helpful in knowing when a car was going to pass me.  My increased situation awareness was stunning.

Anyone who’s ever ridden an electric motorcycle knows that it easily outperforms any internal combustion engine motorcycle in the same class.  The range is still lacking with electric, but if you live in a US city, and don’t do road trips, then an electric motorcycle’s range is no longer an issue.

So, why isn’t everyone already riding an electric motorcycle in US cities, and instead, still waking up everyone at night with their loud exhaust?

It’s because there are a lot of motorcycle enthusiasts that enjoy their loud, obnoxious, exhaust.  They like the attention they get when they disturb someone else with their loud muffler or near  lack of one.  When asked, they defend their position by saying they need a loud exhaust for their own safety, so drivers can hear them coming.  They also like to say that electric aren’t as safe, because they are too quiet.  Basically, “safety” is their excuse for being an ass, which works when told to non-motorcyclists, politicians, or Liberals.  Here is a great article that explains why guys like that don’t actually care about safety and why they are just loud, dicks.

What’s even more laughable is that these “badass,” and “independent” motorcyclists who criticize quiet, electric bikes, and claim that loud is safe, are actually relying on other people’s ability to hear them coming.  By not driving a quiet electric motorcycle, they are giving up their own ability to keep themselves safe because they can’t hear over their own loud motorcycle.

My motorcycle is around 75-90 dBs stock, without any performance upgrades.  Unlike many, I’ve always considered loud engine sounds to be a negative side effect of combustion engine, not just because it’s annoyingly loud, but because my situational awareness is hindered.  With electric, not anymore.

Any motorcyclist in a city, who doesn’t need the long range that an internal combustion engine provides, and who wants better performance, can only benefit from riding an electric motorcycle.


The Largest Mass Shooting in US History, in Las Vegas

We all know the embarrassing headlines.
So I’m going to give you an “accurate” headline based entirely on information that relies on American Government and the fake news agencies.

A White, American, Muslim-ish guy from Mesquite, NV, after breaking several windows in the Mandalay Bay Resort room that he was staying in, open fired on a crowd of 20,000+ people, and killed less than 100 people and injured another 100.

At least 19,800 people were saved by their individual choices, and not by any government.  It’s so awesome that all terrorists are so ineffective at killing people in America, and I do love that about America.

The sad part is that Americans are often in terror, which is the result of not just Muslim Terrorists, but the American Media.



The Roads of Really Living

It was 2am.  I couldn’t sleep anymore, but I stayed in bed until about 3:30am.  I’d already finished packing before I went to sleep at 11pm the night before.  I did the morning rituals necessary to escape my Peruvian family, since they were terrified of what might happen to me.  When I finished, I got on my Chinese, 200cc, enduro motorcycle, and starting driving out of the city into the dark, Andes mountains.

There isn’t a single person that I talked to about the road from Arequipa to Chivay who said it wasn’t dangerous.  I gathered as much information as I could, from as many people as I could about what the trip would be like.  As usual, the people who warned me the most, had the least experience;  they had never done the trip, and were not licensed to drive any vehicle either.  The few people who had driven to Chivay from Arequipa, I got the best information from, though far from complete.

My final, semi-solid pieces of information from my sleuthing were:  Very little chance of bandits on the roads.  The roads would be very wet, winding, and dangerous.  My fellow drivers would be crazy, and quite often try to pass at high speed around blind curves.  It would be cold.  There were no gas stations on the way, so the gas in my tank would have to make it to Chivay.  There would be no cellular service until arriving in Chivay.  By bus, one way, the trip takes three and a half hours.  I I thought, this is going to be awesome.

Arequipa was pretty quiet around 4:15am.  I felt considerably safer as a motorcyclist, in Arequipa, driving at 4:30am, than riding in one of the local buses at 4:30pm, despite the numerous assertions from inexperienced people, otherwise.  I passed the movie theater and airport, and quickly exited the parts of town that were familiar to me.  The new parts looked a lot like the Brazilian favelas that my World Geography teacher so often described, and pined about in class.  At the time, I didn’t share her same love for their cute, poor person, down for the struggle, ethnic minority, esthetic; maybe because I was driving through them on my motorcycle, in the dark, and if something happened to me there, no one would probably hear from me again.  I did, however love the danger and the freedom.

In the morning darkness of February 11th, the moon had only waned for about 26 hours.  Most people couldn’t have told the difference between a full moon, and the moon that was shining on the landscape that I was now looking at.  It was clear, with my night vision and I drove without my headlight for quite awhile.

I cannot accurately describe what it looks like to see rocky desert, with thousands of cactuses, and thousand foot valleys, while driving a motorcycle on the edge of a cliff, with nothing but the moon peaking out from behind the clouds to light up the road.  I can say, that it’s beautiful.

In visual contrast, but exciting and still beautiful, was driving in the same location, after the moon got covered by clouds, and having only a single headlamp to light up the infinite darkness in front of me.

I drove in darkness for about an hour; longer than I had expected, and it was cold.  When the sun started coming up, it only illuminated the grey clouds covering the mountain sky, and I didn’t feel any warmer.

When I realized that the sun wasn’t warming me up faster than the increasing altitude was cooling me down,  I stopped on the side of the road.  I took my jacket and wool sweater off.


I put on two more t-shirts, a long sleeve shirt, my sweater back on, as well as my wool poncho over the top, and finally my jacket over my poncho.  I wrapped two scarves around my neck and drove on.

I had driven past the cliffside road, to a mixed, cliff, plains, and plateau section, between large snowcapped volcanos and mountains.  The sky remained grey and cloudy, with more frequent breaks of sunshine shattering though as the morning continued on.  I stopped to take a picture, as a cloud with a few drops of shivering drizzle moved closer.

arequipa landscape

Because I was so cold, I was a little worried that the rain would continue and strengthen, but it didn’t.  I did start to notice a little warmth as I continued, and reached a toll road.

It was a single check point toll, I think, or perhaps I was exiting a toll road that I didn’t know I was on.  Since I was a motorcycle, I thought that I wouldn’t have to pay, so I drove right on though, without stopping, and nobody stopped me until about a half a mile down the road.  It was a police officer.  He said something in Spanish, and I said, in Spanish, that I didn’t understand much Spanish.  He asked me, “Puno, o Chivay.”  I said, “Chivay,” and he pointed me to the road that veered left.  I already knew which way I was going because I had my GPS, but I said, “Gracias,” and veered onto the left road.  Apparently, the police officer was being friendly and helpful, so naturally, I was nervous.

After veering on to that left road, I realized rather quickly that I hadn’t appreciated the quality of the road I was previously driving on, as much as I could have.  This is where it started to get more than beautiful; it got exciting.

The road was wet and muddy, so my bike was instantly splattered with mud.  The road had potholes everywhere, and I mean everywhere.  I had a difficult time finding a smooth spot even for the two, inline, off-road tires of my motorcycle to squeeze through.  It was even hard for me to get into second gear for most spots, because if I risked hitting the potholes at more than about 10mph, I might get a flat tire, or worse, have something important break loose on my Chinese motorcycle.  I tried weaving in between as much as I could, but it was very hard because of the muddy and slippery conditions.  At least the weather had started to warm up and the sky had cleared.

I looked on my GPS and it said I had about another 80 kilometers left to Chivay, on this road.  I was thinking, oh my god, 80 more kilometers on this road . . . well . . . I better start hitting most of these potholes in at least 2nd gear.  Even worse than the road, were the dogs. . .

I’d come down a little hill and there would be some ram-shackled hut, with two dogs lying down, waiting for their next vehicular prey to drive by.  In a car, the situation is laughable, but on a motorcycle, in slippery, wet, conditions, with foot deep potholes everywhere . . . rabid dogs are a little more disconcerting.  The four legged dogs seemed to do better with the potholes and slippery conditions than I, however, they lacked one thing, technique.

Three times, on this section of road, dogs chased me.  Most didn’t try to bite my leg, but many did try.  All of them snarled like they were going to eat me alive.  I’ve developed a particular strategy to repel dog attacks on my motorcycle, especially on my left side.  As they came in to intercept,  I would raise and scrunch my leg in, close to my body, so that the sole of my shoe was facing the face of the dog.  When the dog came in close to bite my retracted leg, I extended my leg as hard as I could manage, into the dog’s face.  The great thing, is that it was just as effective on front intercepting dogs as rear intercepting dogs, and only slightly less effective at side intercepting dogs.  One particular dog, on this section of road, I got square in the face, which stopped him dead in his tracks.  This boosted my dog repelling moral quite a bit.  I feared moderate to serious injury from most dogs, either from laying down my motorcycle trying to escape, or from being bitten from a crazy, diseased, wasteland dog, or both.

Despite the difficulties of this road, it did have one particularly nice part, a moss river, with steamy water.  Pretty cool.

road moss

After about 17 miles, the road forked.  Chivay was straight, Cusco was to the right.  Thank god, the road to Chivay became paved again.  The crappy road continued on to Cusco; poor souls.  I stopped at the fork, warmed up with my hands over the exhaust of my motorcycle, and rode on.

fork in the road

I was very much relieved to be on a normal road again, and with the warmer weather, it was nice.  Realize, when I say warm, I mean about 55 degrees Fahrenheit.  This section was the high altitude plateau section, The Altiplano.  Mostly flat, with mountains and volcanos in the far distance.  This part was cool.

I came around a bend and saw this road and mountain laid out in front of me, while being surrounded by wild alpacas and vicuñas, which are like smaller alpacas, but with a more arrogant and prissy demeanor.  The valley marsh had lots of water, greenery.  I stopped, and took a photo of where I was going.  Not a single vehicle passed while I warmed up again with my hands on the muffler.

Once warm, and still with not another vehicle on the road, I throttled my bike to the max, and headed into the clouds.

road into the clouds

I continued to the mountains, higher and higher, until making it around the next mountain curve, where the clouds cleared into a wondrous display of colorful, natural beauty.  I’d never seen this diversity of color in real life before, and I hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

andes mountain road

Even with the beautiful colors, and topographic diversity, I was cold.  Perhaps because the snow I was seeing wasn’t on a distant mountaintop anymore; it was on this mountaintop.  Seeing the snow was a pleasant and exciting surprise, despite how cold I was.

After driving up and around a few more bends, it became clear that the snow I saw, was going to become even more personal.  There are no pictures of me driving with snow on both sides of the road.  Why, because I was way too cold to manipulate the functions of my camera with my hands, and because stopping for very long wasn’t very comfortable.  I just wanted to get back down where is was warmer, as soon as possible.  Another reason I didn’t take any pictures, is because my motorcycle didn’t seem to like this particular altitude.  It started running rather erratically and sputtering, even at 6,000 Rpm.  With my GPS telling me I was at 15,921ft, I felt it best not to stop.

After this mountain peak, it was pretty much a direct, 3,000 foot, downward, meandering spiral, to Chivay.  I could see the town in the distance, and enjoyed the warming journey back to lower altitude.

Many years after I made this journey, Professor Edwin Barnhart’s great lecture of the “Lost Worlds of South America” also showed the Chivay valley during his “Great Lecture” series, which I instantly recognized.  We both share a passion for this country and its history.

On the way down, I passed a couple of small waterfalls, and snapped a shot of this one, which flowed right next to the road.

When I arrived, it was surprisingly sunny, and warm.  It felt great.  I checked out a few hotels, snapped some pictures of the town, and fell asleep on a park bench in the central park of the town, with the cool mountain breeze and the sun on my face.

When I woke up, I picked an expensive hotel, with a great view in the center of town, which was 25 soles a night.

I found out later that the guy had lied about the price, charged me 5 soles more, and meed the extra money to buy some weed, which he asked me not to tell his boss about.  I convinced him to charge me 15 soles for the last night, which almost entirely made up for the overcharges the other nights.

I didn’t do much that first night, since I was super tired from getting only 3 hours of sleep the night before, and from the motorcycle journey.

Pretty much, I planned the drive to the Colca Canyon for the next day.  Apparently, Chivay was on the Colca Valley, not the Colca Canyon, meaning, to see the deep part, I would have to drive for another couple of hours, to another town.

I woke up semi-early, around 8am.  If I woke up too early, it would be a cold drive there.  If I woke up too late, it would be a cold drive back.  The semi-paved road from Chivay, quickly turned into a yellow, muddy, dirt road.  The GPS said it was only about 40km to Chivay.  Once I started driving on the dirt road, I knew why everyone said it was a two hour drive . . . because it was.

I passed several small towns.  Yanque, the first, is the only one that I remember the name of.  Down the road, there were cows, horses, and dogs.  I really don’t even like kicking dogs in the face from dirt roads, so when a horse started chasing me, I didn’t try to kick it in the face.  Thank god the horse gave up quicker than most of the dogs.

Some of the bulls were quite intimidating.  One of them mooed at me while staring me down.  I motored by very slowly, in a low gear, with my hand ready to flick on the torque in a moments notice.

We came to little tourist town, where I paid two soles to put an eagle on my head, and pet an alpaca.  It would cost you at least $20 or more in the US, if it is even legal anymore, with all the crazy “save the” planet-whales-polarbears-chickens people everywhere.  It’s probably classified as animal slavery, or something.  Did I mention that I ate grilled Alpaca on this trip?  It was delicious.

I continued on, and came to a cliffside tunnel, with Andean Condors gliding on the updrafts of this sheer cliff.  They are big birds, with lots of meat, and they taste like chicken.  Just kidding.

So I start driving though this tunnel.  It was big mistake for me not to swap my sunglasses for my goggles.  It was pitch black and filled with limestone silt, like a very fine powder, everywhere.  It was on the ground, and in the air.  It was kind of hard to breath and it was like driving on a very soft sand beach.  I was wondering if the engine of the motorcycle would stay running, because the powder might clog the intake.  It didn’t and I was through in a couple minutes.  Kind of an interesting tunnel though.

Some more driving, some more cows, donkeys, bulls, and dogs.  Then, it started to get a bit colder.  Dark clouds Ire appearing here and there.  I took a little off-road detour, and pulled our warmer clothes out of our bags, and bundled up to the max.  Lucia was warm, but being in the front, I was still a little chilly, but not cold.  Finally, I can see Cobanaconde.  Before I get there, I stop at this Mirador, which means “overlook” in Spanish.  It was a great view and I wasn’t even in Cabanaconde yet.  It was so deep, it didn’t even look real.  The colors fade over a distance, and even with your own eyes, it looks a lot like a backdrop.  It was breathtaking. On the way back to the bike, I saw a dung beetle, doing what dung beetles do, rolling dung, with his girlfriend hanging on and along for the ride; typical.