Trans­porta­tion News — a lit­tle moto

Boe­ing has a new best sell­ing plane. The Scan Eagle UAV.

The 3‑point seat belt is 50 years old. Invent­ed by Vol­vo and now
uni­ver­sal­ly installed. The top pho­to in the arti­cle is too retro cute
for words.

Tel­sa goes drag rac­ing at Pacif­ic Race­ways. I find drags without
thun­der­ous engine noise, or in this case noise from only one lane,
unsat­is­fy­ing. The cost of a run’s worth of fuel is giv­en as 8 — 16
cents, vs. 5 — 26 dol­lars for a gas fueled car. I got­ta ask. This is
drag rac­ing who cares about  the cost of fuel? (Yes, I’ve been racing.
Yes, I know that the cost of fuel counts.)

The web­site for the (soon to be) revi­tal­ized Brough-Superior is short
on infor­ma­tion. But it has this slide show of the SS101K engine. Dead



A well designed heav­i­ly researched com­plete­ly bug nutz conspiracy
web­site. You’ll love the series called Sin­is­ter Sites, detail­ing the
satan­ic, mason­ic, and occult read­ings of the var­i­ous build­ings and
locales. Try the Cathe­dral of St, John the Divine for what has to be
the best 9–11, satanism, neo-pagan, envi­ron­men­tal­ist threat to
human­i­ty mash-up ever. Tons more where that came from.



Clever busi­ness card for a house painter. Prob­a­bly a lit­tle expensive
to leave a stack lay­ing on the paint counter at the Home Depot though.

Alex Andreyev’s port­fo­lio is a stun­ning col­lec­tion of surrealist
illus­tra­tion. I sug­gest you start with the exhib­it he calls A Separate
Real­i­ty Part 2. The unteth­ered, frag­men­tary world he draws is eerie
and rich.‑Separate-Reality-02/278736


Lit­er­ary News

Back in April (20th)I point­ed to Neil Gaiman’s Blue­ber­ry Girl, a
poem/prayer for his god-daughter.
Now he and Charles Vess are team­ing up to do a book for Gaiman’s poem

Neil announces and pro­vides a sam­ple here:

Tor art direc­tor Irene Gal­lo gives us a cou­ple more here:

Charles Vess him­self gives us a few more and dis­cuss­es some of the
design process here:

Full text of the poem here:

Have as best a Mon­day as you can,