Good-Bye Mister Hawking

Goodbye Mister Hawking. Sorry that you never got my letter. 

When the news of your death hit the InterWires, I cried. Sure we’d joked about those races up and down Virginia Avenue. Loser hahaha. Faced with my Diet Coke and Menthos powered chair you stood no chance! Maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much time on that fusion engine ya know?. *  During those hours of build time you once told me to look at the stars, not at my feet. It was so easy! I hadn’t seen my feet for 20 years. But seriously Steve…

Hawking cover

Most folks are already aware of your brilliance in helping to explain the universe the stars and our planet. Extracting the mysteries of the galaxies. There’s much more though.

You were a vocal advocate for the disabled.  Maybe vocal isn’t the right clickity clackity word. Ratting out the NHS. Several years back Professor Hawking stated that without his wealth and fame, he’d be dead already. There’s currently a year waiting list for a wheelchair. You go Britain. Right up there with the U.S.

For the first time a beam was shone on physics, science and all things space oriented. A Brief History of Time was amazing. Have an admission though Steve: it took two tries to read the book through. It was worth every stutter and stammer. Nothing personal.
Just like a real friend you began by leading me to many more authors. From there to new ideas and places. I haven’t stopped.

Why did you leave with no goodbye? What the hell brainiac dude? Thought there was plenty of time to write a letter to you.



Professor Hawking, you were hysterical and serious by turns. Your dry humor, obvious intelligence, and ofttimes snarky wit confidently hid an unimaginable emotional pain.  Fun to watch the pundits filled with greed and political agendas attempting to stutter back. Your Humanist comments reflect the best in logic and peace. You never did hide behind your computer.

A mind filled with curiosity, yet insight combined with knowledge of a short life.  Mister Hawking, you didn’t miss this new age of exploration and scientific discovery beginning. Space flight for citizens is possible! Richard Branson offered you a free ticket! Dammit I could have been your plus one.

Good-bye Mr. Hawking and thank you.

Your Pal,

Rachael B.


Three Favorite Stephen Hawking Quotes

  • Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don’t just give up
  • I believe alien life is quite common in the universe, although intelligent life is less so. Some say it has yet to appear on planet Earth.
  • The thing about smart people is that they seem like crazy people to dumb people





I is for Inappropriate

I is for Inappropriate

Oh sure once again know what you were thinking.

You forget though, I still hold my pointless Mensa membership and am Hooked on Physics.

Here’s an Inappropriate Battle of the Rappin’ Physicists.

~Miss R
Amateur Physicist to the Stars

A post from 5:00 am -or- The Day The Earth Turned Day-Glo

Enjoy the subtitle best. Nothing like Germ Free Adolescents for this piece. And yes I WAS a punk before you were a punk.

Okay what provoked the last 80’s classic punk tune references?

The joys of my being a (actually 18 year old) teenager combined with my mom and abject horror. No not the cool and dulcet Dexter kind where you see mom hacked to death. We should all be so lucky. So, clearly the point  of this post is my discovery cure for cancer. Not really. Need to call Hawking, go through his bullshit excuses (but I can’t waaaaalk Rachee!).
All he needs to do is present my paper to a peer reviewd group. Status but really? The gut wrenching laughter he inspires in my cold black heart. Knee-Slapper.

It’s the generational freakishness that so many are bereft of experiencing in their lives.


utter creepiness, probable onset of a manic state and -are you ready?- SEX SEX SEX and FREE BEER!!! * (valid only in mainly Muslim populated countries and most of Utah)

I haven’t slept in  48 hours, haven’t had so much as a beer in the last week or so, and have not experienced a true manic episode for close to 15 years. The times it has occurred during those last 15 years have always been due to a badly conceived and mixed cocktail. Of medication. Prescribed by  physician.

The meds not prescribed by  doctor (at least to me) are donated to favorite charities: Save the Whiners: Rush Limbaugh CEO , Ahmnodt Heare for President Campaign (he uses ALL donations to help the less fortunate. Obtain sexual favors and/or votes from strippers, whores and/or mostly the same; lobbyists.  The crap dealers in Fabulous Las Vegas!  Pets! And my all time American charitable foundation : Votes From the Texas Deceased and Legalized Euthanasia for all politicians who have been CEO’s of conglomerates, any attorney running for office,  Real Estate Developers and anyone else who -by consensus of Ahmnodt’s Board of Directors and noted Psychiatrists–  Religious Nuts and people who should be considered sub-moron but now proclaim their ‘gentlemanly C grade average’ at Yale.

Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot by Al Franken

Do you even comprehend the fiscal conservatism of this candidate? From ALL parties.

A Typical YoYo-Dyne manic episode (no employee names can be used due to pending litigation)  usually manifests  symptoms in the following manner:  Sleep deficit, grinding each particle of debris and enamel from teeth, a thorough cleaning under the bottom of tables with toothbrushes and Murphy’s ois soap, overeating to the point of re-joining the Scarf and Barf Club,  re-arrange the ant hills in the front yard, rearrange  the utensil drawer..34 times, and oh shit look at the time. Still have to comb the carpets and vacuum the cat.

Creepiness and SEX SEX SEX!

Remember that cursed time when you had 5 or 6 friends over to visit and party between school breaks? You lived in a dorm on campus, so stayed with mom and her husband during vacation. The night EVERY ONE of your friends heard  the moaning of sexual pleasure emanating from my mother. Outside with hubby. In the hot tub. I was 18 remember? Completely scared for life.

Until that fab memory came back to haunt me like a Donner Party member with bad table manners. And usurped mom’s status.

Just as I was positive I could sleep (after 3 sleeping pills) it dawned on me that I could hear my daughter, my beloved Demon Seed, and her (strictly uncommitted on her part, and he has accepted it) Reno beau -playing the music REALLY loudly for 3:00 am in her bedroom.

Too loud. Got up to brush my teeth (count for today: 6 brushings) and immediately understood why the music was so loud. Yes. SEX.  Loud, headboard pounding sex.. and worse the sounds my naive and wallflower daughter was, well, moaning.

Not sure what’s more fucked up and deserved of 72 hours with no sleep. But the synchronicity factor between hearing mom doing the nasty and my daughter doing the ‘wonder where she got it’ freak on nasty haunted me. Poste Haste.

Hear I sit… loony from lack of sleep, possible onset of mania (whoa dude have you ever SEEN my Marie Antoinette outfit? The Napoleon version I’d had made up upon my diagnosis is just, too, well dykish for me. I’d be a lipstick lesbian if I switched teams permanently.  And oh fruit of my loins you are already happily bi-sexual. At 11 she looks up at me and says ‘Mommy I think I’m bi’. Please realize that she was a late bloomer and couldn’t even look at her OWN naked body until 9 months ago). I said ‘that’s great  honey. I want you to be happy! She skipped off quite pleased.

She already  knew many of my friends were/are queer. Hell, I’m a musician. Who got her professional (or in my case unprofessional -rim shot-) start playing piano and singing at gay and lesbian bars in the Los Angeles area.

Get To the Fucking Point Already!

Tried to pass along the import ideals to my daughter. She hates no one. Unless a particular jackwagon pisses her off.

But but but THE MOANING and Headboard banging.. and being humiliated in front of friends who had known  my mom for years. It Burns. IT BURNS.

Well, will never get any sleep now, almost time to make the coffee. OH GOD MAKE IT STOP. My MIND WOULD BE A GREAT PLACE TO WASTE right now. Oh god orgasms coming (don;t even think it) from two people I NEVER wanted to hear them from… Age 18…in college. Hand me that Xanax!

Oh dear god they’re at it again. Bed Bounce, How nice. Oh, please shoot me I’m only the piano player

~Just Another Run of the Mill Mom and Daughter in Reno…. but you may continue to address me as

~Miss R



YoYo-Dyne Loves Physics and Music

This is fabulous. Not just because it has to do with physics, quantum ideas and some of the best scientists on the planet, but you can dance to it.

GAH,  already wrote this blog and was cut off by a power outage. That is the real reason. Not going to re-write the brilliance which was the fist post. So here’s the juice of it.

I can only say that Science Symphony rocks and this is the most recent tune  they have drawn my brain into.


WARNING: IF you watch a shitload of TV and/or collect baseball cards just move along…


stephen hawking that dumbass

Nice try Stephen. I’ll still kick your ass.

Sorry that the posts have been sparse. The surgery was far more intense (read: fucking painful as hell) than I’d imagined.

Sitting here with a cup of coffee and my medication is about all I can accomplish before getting my aching back and body into bed and the oh so lovely surgical corset. Gotta say, this corset is a sex magnet for every paraplegic for miles. Given the two large general hospitals and VA hospital close to the house, leaving the confines of the porch would be dangerous.

This post is really is a note to let you kids know the surgery went well. Also a note to all of you wanna-be writers and the hurdles you think are facing you.

This blog is brought to you by a  two-hour spinal surgery, two hung-over surgeons, a six-inch incision  across/through the abdomen, two walkers (one of which I’ve painted black with flames and skulls and shit (that slacker Hawking has GOT to agree to that race now. Yellow bastard)  two types of Oxycontin 3x a day, 10 mg of Valium 2x a day and of course my morning nurse…Ms. Espresso Double-Shot (she hyphenates her last name).

More later. Assuming I can find the laptop again. Where’s that bell? Hey Double-Shot it’s time for my sponge bath!

~Miss R

Stephen Hawking is a Fucking Crybaby

This morning I’m sitting outside on the deck, as the sun comes up over the mountains, cup of coffee in hand. Living at 6000 ft is a high.
Being your typical girl my thoughts turn to sound waves and the principles of Van Eck phreaking.
The concept is simple: using radio waves to literally see the screen of another computer user’s CRT.

Here’s a brief explanation from WikiPedia so it’s fairly crap:

Information that drives the video display takes the form of high frequency electrical signals. These oscillating electric currents create electromagnetic radiation in the RF range. These radio emissions are correlated to the video image being displayed, so in theory they can be used to recover the displayed image.My brain was having a problem comprehending the exact mechanisms for this.
So I decided to call Stephen Hawking.

“Steve! It’s Rachael. Get your lazy bragging wheel-chair bound ass out of bed.”
All I can hear on the other end of the phone is a bunch of flopping and thudding.
Jesus. It’s not as if the guy needs his damned beauty sleep. What does he do all day but sit on his ass?

After a moment I hear “Rachael? What time is it? 6:30 in the morning?”
Except I hear it in that stupid machine voice with all the annoying clicks from that damned box he uses.

For all I know he’s pissed but really who cares. It’s not like he’s got a fucking hike scheduled this afternoon.

I explain my questions about the Van Eck phreaking theory. Sometimes Steve is sorta slow up the uptake so I use really little words.

Before I’m halfway through he starts whining about the last time he was over at my house; he’s still holding a grudge after I filled those ten Diet Coke Bottles with Menthos, attached them to the back of his wheelchair, and sent him blasting off into traffic on South Virginia Street.
It’s not as if an accident is going to incapacitate him. Hell he’s already a crip. Jesus dude get over it.

Anyway, after he gets his shit together and back on track I ask why a computer, which is not a radio last time I checked, is emitting radio signals.
Stephen explains that it’s all a consequence of computers being binary (everything is run on transitions from zero to one and back again).
Computer bits are achieved by regulating back and forth from 0 volts (representing binary 0) to 5 volts (representing binary 1). This manifests as a square wave. Grab an old physics textbook off the shelf if you don’t remember what one of these looks like. I’ll wait.

Okay? Well, it seems that in reality these square waves are not ‘perfect’. In other words they don’t have the nice sharp angles and flat lines shown in books. So now take that goddamned textbook and throw it against the wall. I’ll wait.

Actually the waves have interference in them, even though they jump from 0 to 5 with rapidity. So the square wave actually has lots of really tiny peaks and valleys (smaller waves in the larger square wave) and the lines are not literally flat, straight or exact at all. They look like a kindergartner drew them. Or Stephen.

The little tiny peak and valley waves are called ‘ringing’.This ‘ringing’ between the actual binary numbers resonate within the circuitry of the computer. Since it’s bouncing around looking for a value it emits electromagnetic waves.
Ah ha.

“So Steve what you’re saying is that this resonating turns every wire and metal cable in the computer into a kind of radio transmitter? That whenever the computer is on it’s sending out radio wave emissions?”
“Yes” click click. It sounds like the bastard is gargling with fucking tacks.

I asked The Gimp-Meister how a person determined which emissions represented the signals from the screen hardware and screen buffer. After all if every ringing is being emitted that’s a hell of a lot of information and most of it has got to be just noise.
Steve said that there are very few predictable signals but one of them is the ticks of the CRT monitor reading horizontal and vertical retrace intervals. Note: that last refers to the way a CRT scans the screen to retrieve information from the screen buffer. Go look it up yourself. I can’t do everything. Sheesh.

The bottom line is that by isolating the radio signal pattern from the CRT a person could literally see, on their own computer CRT, what was on the desktop of someone else.
Oh god I’d better not tell Tinfoil Hat Guy Web Client about this. Aiiiii.

Now you have to realize that this conversation took for-fucking-ever what with Steve whacking on his voice keyboard and me constantly saying “What? What? I can’t understand you Dude. Can’t you enunciate for goddsake?!”

The point is that I now have a better understanding of Van Eck phreaking.
Sadly, being just a girl, I’m not certain that my sophomoric explanation can impart this idea to you. Hopefully it can.
It’s pretty damned cool.
Too bad my curiosity doesn’t pay the bills. Stephen probably would have offered to let me stay with him a while except he’s broke right now.
Something about buying a new wheelchair after crashing his into a parked car on South Virginia Street.

Steve. Lighten up. Have a Coke and a smile.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Tale Spinnin’ [LP Vinyl]
By: Weather Report

Release date: 1975