The new format offers nothing that the old format did not offer; it merely spreads the same options and information over a larger area, making it more inconvenient. (For the record, I have a 22" widescreen monitor, and my computer is set to display in the monitor's native 1680x1050 resolution. It's not because I have a small screen.)
Apparently no one told these guys, "If it's not broken, don't fix it." *sigh*
* * *
Cruise ships simply do not have robust power distribution. "Single point of failure" is always bad engineering, particularly when you're talking about critical systems.
As Karl Denninger points out, cruise ships have very large electrical generation budgets and the economies of scale means electric propulsion is more efficient for passenger vessels. But space inside the ship's hull is limited and expensive, and the more redundancy you have in electrical supply, the less space you have for paying passengers.
...so when there's an incident that knocks out electrical power, the whole ship goes dark and people have to crap in plastic bags. Yeah.
Denninger is right; the current law is inadequate.
* * *
Liberal gun owner finally understands the situation.
First they came for the blacks, and I spoke up because it was wrong, even though I'm not black.* * *
Then they came for the gays, and I spoke up, even though I'm not gay.
Then they came for the Muslims, and I spoke up, because it was wrong, even though I'm an atheist.
When they came for illegal aliens, I spoke up, even though I'm a legal immigrant.
Then they came for the pornographers, rebels and dissenters and their speech and flag burning, and I spoke up, because rights are not only for the establishment.
Then they came for the gun owners, and you liberal shitbags threw me under the bus, even though I'd done nothing wrong. So when they come to put you on the train, you can fucking choke and die.
Mrs. Fungus and I spent a very nice Valentine's Day together. I'm not going to go into details, except for the following.
Dinner was porterhouse steaks (from the big beef buy), salad, baked potatoes, and cheesecake. The steaks came out perfectly and were so tender you could almost cut them with a fork. Quoth Mrs. Fungus: "We're never going to a steakhouse again."
Once the dishes were cleared away, we watched three movies in a row: Wall-E, Flight, and UP. She picked the ones on the end; I picked the one in the middle.
From the trailer, Flight looked like it was a movie about an airline pilot who was a reluctant hero--he'd pulled off an insane maneuver which saved the lives of nearly everyone on his doomed aircraft, and the tralier made it seem as if he was modestly trying to avoid the spotlight; it made a passing reference to him having been drinking "the night before" the doomed flight but otherwise didn't really mention it.
What the movie turned out to be about was an airline pilot struggling with alcoholism. It was a good movie, but when the opening scene shows him drinking, having a toke, and doing a line of cocaine--
On the plus side, the movie ended the way it had to, the right way, and it was an interesting drama.
I think I would have liked the movie sold by the trailer better, though.
The two Pixar efforts were much more entertaining and fun.
* * *
I could not sleep last night. It took a whole tab of Xanax, and I didn't actually fall asleep until well after 6 AM. I don't really know why, either; yesterday was a busy day.
Of course now I feel like a zombie, because Xanax. *sigh* Well, only getting about 4.5 hours of sleep doesn't help any.
Worse, I was suffering some bad stomach cramps yesterday afternoon. I got up around 2-ish, had a PBJ, and tried watching some TV; after a while I gave up and returned to bed with the still-sleeping Mrs. Fungus, but couldn't sleep due to the pain in my stomach.
I've had this kind of pain before; the earliest example was when I was in 8th grade: one Friday night I was awakened by the most godawful pain in my stomach that felt as if someone was skewering me right through, just below my rib cage on the left side. Mom finally gave me a Darvocet around 5 AM and the pain just disappeared, so suddenly that I got the giggles. She took me to the doctor the next day--good old Dr. Bertorelli, who was from Italy--and he put me on a mild diet and had me go get an upper GI.
The upper GI was performed by a friend's dad, who was a radiologist at the time. It turned out that my duodenum wasn't working correctly; it was a condition he called "nervous stomach" and it was due entirely to stress. Gee, what could possibly have been stressing me out, other than being the kid everyone picked on in junior high school? *rolleyes*
I've had this happen to me a few other times since then. Antacids do nearly nothing for it and the only thing I've found that actually quells it is to take some narcotic--or near-narcotic--pain reliever. (Acetominophen? Hell no, I'm not going to do the hard stuff, man! That shit's worse than crack!) I didn't think of that yesterday, so I suffered for a couple of hours before I was able to fall asleep again; and it bothered me at a much lower level--below the pain threshold, just enough to make me uneasy--for most of the rest of the day.
Sometime after I took the other half-tab of Xanax, my stomach emitted a little noise and the sensation went away entirely. But as I said above that was after 6 AM.
You know, my mother had heartburn once in her life. Once, when she was in her late 70s. That one time, she was worried that she was having a heart attack, only then she threw up and the sensation went away and the light went on.
Heredity being what it is, I got her hands and feet and ears; why couldn't I have gotten her stomach, too? Why did I have to get my Dad's digestive tract?