I suppose it's no coincidence that none of these guys have any hair.

Something, er...interesting at Damn Interesting: 

The strikingly realistic robot has since been met largely with wonder and admiration, which could mark success for Ishiguro in more ways than the obvious. Although Ishiguro's earlier android projects were only a little less realistic, they tended to disturb viewers. This is consistent with a 1970 hypothesis by Dr. Masahiro Mori, another Japanese roboticist. Although not yet well-investigated by science, Mori's "Uncanny Valley" theory holds that as a simulation of a human being's appearance and/or motion becomes increasingly accurate, there is very suddenly a point at which humans' interest in the creation turns into utter repulsion.

Ishiguro was inspired to develop a mechanical double after becoming tired of his long commute from the little town of Keihanna to a teaching position at Osaka University. He sees the android double as an improvement on videoconferencing, allowing not just the speaker's image and voice to be transmitted but also his or her presence. In stark contrast with the Western fear that androids could become strong enough to overpower human beings, the Japanese forsee a future in which humans and androids work together amicably and productively.

However, the Uncanny Valley effect may prove to be an impediment to human-android interactions as androids come to resemble humans more and more closely. It's an issue that Ishiguro wants to help resolve. One of his early robots was based on casts of his four-year-old daughter. It was capable of only basic movements, and thus was not quite lifelike. Ishiguro's daughter was so terrified by it that she refused to set foot in Ishiguro's lab after seeing it. Later on, Ishiguro made a robot copy of newscaster Ayako Fujii; despite being equipped with a much more intricate system of motion, it was still described as "creepy". Ishiguro's double is even more of an improvement, and most observers have been amazed and intrigued rather than unnerved. This may indicate that he has found the level of detail necessary to cross the Valley.

I remember this concept being explored in a Doctor Who adventure from the 70s (the Tom Baker era).  And back then the "robots" in the story didn't look human at all, except in the most general sense.  But then, they didn't have the budget or the technology to do anything better, I suppose.I'm pretty sure I would find androids to be "creepy," at least.  Because I don't even like ventriloquist dummies.

Follow the link above for some "creepy" androids.

Now if they come up with something that looks like this:


I might be more interested and less creepified.  Yes, interested.  That's the word.

Say Uncle linked to this chart at Right Wing Nation.

As usual when one of these things come up, there was a comment like this:

I don’t understand Texas. I thought they prided themselves on independence and machismo and the like. You think maybe they’re like WV and just carry without permits?

Now, this is only my opinion, but I think there's a good explanation.  Or two.

1.  There are several high-density urban areas (Austin, Dallas, Houston) where there is a typical anti-self defense mentality and this drags the numbers down.  No offense to non-sheep who live in these cities.  Also Austin is where we stick all the hippies.

2.  Many people in rural areas still drive around with a rifle behind the seat of their truck and they don't feel that they need to carry a handgun.  I know I used to, before I started working in San Antonio.

I would have just left a comment there but I can't bring up the comment form for some reason.

I watched this show for the first time yesterday.  He was spending a week in the desert in Arizona.  I thought it was somewhat informative.  Somewhat.  The parts that especially interested me were all the stuff he found to eat.  I was almost ready to try roasting some grasshoppers.  And I certainly will try some mesquite beans the next time I come across some nice fresh green ones.  But someone needs to clue him in on a few things.

1.  Javelinas absolutely do not under any normal circumstances attack humans on sight.  Like many wild animals, they will attempt to defend themselves if cornered and/or provoked.  Climbing a tree and speaking in hushed tones to avoid being attacked by one poor little javelina was just stupid.

2.  Javelinas are not "a kind of wild boar."  They are only very distantly related to pigs and cannot even interbreed with pigs.

3.  The word is "javelina," with an "a" on the end that is pronounced (but at least he got the "j" right).  It's not pronounced "haveleen."  But what can you expect from a guy who says "sahntimeter."

I have a lot of things I could enumerate about stuff I hate regarding my job.  I don't do that here because I would only end up smashing my computer, and I can't afford a new one right now.  Sometimes odd and/or funny things happen.

I was delivering cut-off notices today.  I had a bunch (about 25) all at one apartment complex.  Instead of driving from apartment to apartment, I just walked the whole thing.

There was a small stray but friendly dog wandering around, and it began following me.  This is actually not an uncommon occurrence when we are meter-reading.  I've had friendly strays follow me for a couple of hours at a time.  We call them mascots.

Anyhoo, from the other end of the parking lot, some woman yells at me.

"You need to put your dog on a leash!"

I looked at her.  Her demand was so unexpected, although I understood the words, I still couldn't process it.  So instead of saying something intelligent, I yelled back, "What?!"

"Your dog!" she yelled again.  "You need to put it on a leash!"

"It's not my dog!"  I answered this time.

She was walking toward me.  She yelled again.  "Your dog!!!  Leash!!!!"

"Ma'am," I yelled back again.  "It's not my dog!"

She was closer to me and yelled again, although not as loudly, "Is that your dog?"

"No, ma'am," I yelled at her again.

So she gave me this exasperated look as if it was somehow my fault that the dog didn't belong to me.


For a minute I thought maybe I had sidestepped into some kind of alternate Inspector Clousseau dimension.  It's too bad she didn't ask me, "Does your dog bite?"  That would have been even funnier.  And weirder too, I guess.