Physics Wins Every Time

A blog post by the Incidental Cyclist about idiot newspaper article commenters inspired quite the mental image, approximated here:

"Cars and bikes don't belong on the roads. Physics wins every time!"

- RG>

RG's Workshop: Projector and screen mount

A few months after buying my LCD projector in an agonizingly long and painful process (the recounting of which is probably equally long and painful to read), I realized I could use it for entertainment, and not just for meetings.

To do so, I needed a blank wall or screen, and somethingorother to hold the projector in the right place. This is the story of that somethingorother.

Projectors have little threaded holes on the bottom specifically for mounting them. I strategically stuck two decorative shelf brackets on a board they came on, and on the part that sticks out from the board, I drilled a second hole into the end of one of them to line up with the hole on the other (the mounting spots on the projector are not lined up, so it took some finagling). You can see that in the background of the picture below; the part that goes against the wall is lying flat. I happened to have some small bolts with the same size threads.

The trick was finding a way to get that board onto the wall. I still needed the projector for meetings, after all, so I would need an easy way of removing it.

I cut a solid steel L bracket (above) in two, and temporarily held the two ends together with a bolt to keep them aligned as I cut a slot into them.

I got lazy and wrangled the tabs out from the photo above instead of finishing the cut, resulting in what we see below. Unfortunately, much filing and fidgeting was required to obtain sufficient clearance for my desired goal.

That goal is to use these metal bars as hooks to latch onto screws that will be embedded into something else that is permanently mounted to my wall. In this photo, I'm measuring where to put the screws. The trick is not putting them too high; you need clearance between the two boards to lift the projector mount up to get the hooks on the mounting screws.

Like so. Two drywall screws with a nice smooth bevel under the head. Keep them loose enough. Note: the screws holding the the plates to the projector mount backboard need to be short (so as not to poke through) and kept a bit loose so the plates can spin freely. If I were doing this again, I'd have put them just a bit closer to the top of the board, because there isn't enough clearance for the left one to fold down for storage (i.e. 180 degrees from the currently shown position). Also if I were doing it again, it would be much easier now that I have a Dremel^® rotary hand tool.

I also discovered after-the-fact that I had a very tight clearance for the monitor cable, so I chiseled out a little channel for it. If I were doing this again, I would probably cut a whole slot out of the side of the board before attaching anything to avoid crimping the cable.

Phase one complete. Now to get something to project onto.

As luck would have it, someone was throwing away a couple of screens. It's actually not that rare an item at the curbside; I've found at least four, all in working order. When planning your projection setup, make sure your screen is big enough for the image being projected. You may have to mount it on the ceiling a foot out from the wall, for example, if you have a smallish screen and a projector with a wide throw angle like mine.

My screen is not small-ish, and the spring-lock mechanism depends on this flat bit sticking out of the end. I had a bunch of these little brackets kicking around that I'd found a few years ago, and they were perfect for it (I even made a set for Allison and Chris). In retrospect, I should have flipped the screen around the other way so the screen is further from the wall, in order to clear the lintel (also projected, albeit in a different way) over the window.

Again because I was lazy and didn't have a rotary hand tool, I drilled three holes in a row and forced a screw into the holes to open them up.

Then I crawed the opening wide enough with a flathead screwdriver. Crude, but functional. Nobody's going to see the jagged edges anyway.

The other end was easier, it was just a round peg. The peg plunges down so you can fit it the screen between two fixed mounting points. (Be very careful to leave enough clearance to get the peg in, but not so much clearance that the screen falls out!)

The best thing about this setup is it rolls up to be out of the way when not in use...

...or pulls down to take whatever image you throw at it.

And the projector sits on the opposite wall underneath the hat rack, easily removed with the two hooks (and a Roberston screwdriver to detach the projector itself from the mounting bracket)

Like many of my creations, it's based on the spare things I have available, so the combination of things you have kicking around probably won't let you recreate this setup exactly, but you'll find your own somethingorother to whip up. This post should at least give you some ideas.

I can just hear you now: "Hey, I have an idea: RealGrouchy is a clever guy!"

- RG>

I'm on the toilet, you twit!

You may have noticed that I haven't been blogging lately. I sure have. Lots of stuff going on keeping me busy and otherwise preventing me from doing so.

After a very thorough thinking-about-it-for-a-couple-of-minutes that involved talking to a wide variety of nobody, I impulsively decided that getting onto Twitter will help me get back into blogging. Impulsively is, of course, the only way to open a Twitter account; I can't imagine anyone dedicating a few days of their time toward deliberating on whether or not to begin to tweet. Any medium that is so accessible as to make announcing one's bodily functions seem noteworthy is obviously designed with the impulsive in mind.

Who knows, after I might even "get" Twitter (and the jokes that the Oatmeal makes about its users' habits). At the very least, it will allow me to share some of the random shit that comes into my head. They let you swear on Twitter, right?

So just to reiterate: if you hear anyone say that "RealGrouchy once said he'll never, ever, create a Twitter account," well, they had the right sentiment but obviously heard wrong.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must go visit the bathroom so that I may tweet about it.

- RG>

A very strange taxi ride

I don't take taxis a lot. Partly because I'm cheap, partly because I don't often need to go very far, and partly because a lot of them are jerks.

Last night, I had occasion to take one, and it was a rather surreal experience.

As I got in and told him the landmark nearest where I wanted to go (not very far, actually), his reaction reflected a quantum superposition of knowing and not knowing where this was. I'd quote him, but I was a bit distracted from hearing his exact response because I was having difficulty buckling my seatbelt.

I told him I'd be paying cash, but I wanted a receipt. He replied, "we don't take cash... ... ... only jewellery." I didn't know what the hell that meant either. I mean, I could tell the jewellery part was a joke, but the pause was too long for me to tell whether the whole thing was a joke, or just the part about the jewellery. I put away my cash and readied my credit card to be on the safe side.

Throughout this peculiar exchange, an annoying beeping was coming from the dashboard. I leaned forward and saw over the driver's shoulder what looked like the "fasten safety belt" indicator flashing in time with the warning. I looked over next to the driver's seat, and the seatbelt was snugly holstered. He was probably keeping it in its original packaging so he could later trade it to a collector, still in mint condition, for some jewellery. After getting more frequent and annoying, the beeping eventually stopped and the light just flashed silently for the rest of the otherwise brief ride.

This was good, I thought: This guy must drive so safely that he knows he doesn't need his seatbelt. My faith in this hypothesis waned, however, as he crept the nose of the car past both lines of the crosswalk while the crossing traffic still had a green light. At least *I* was buckled up. I ignored the traffic signals and just looked both ways as we crossed for indications I should brace myself for a collision.

Finally, we got to our destination (double-parked, of course), and I handed the driver my credit card. He stared at me. He looked down at the credit card machine in the front seat. "I'm sorry. Were you kidding about the cash thing earlier?" I asked. He explained, vaguely, that the credit card machines were new and he wasn't yet very familiar with their operation.

I put my credit card away and pulled out a US $20 bill that I'd been trying to get rid of since I returned from a trip a few months ago. "Is US cash alright?" I asked. "It's not alright, but I'll take it" he said, again, cryptically. Go ahead and quit your taxi job, guy, but please don't think you'll make it a comedian.

As I unloaded my bags onto the sidewalk (made more awkward by the line of parked cars separating the sidewalk from the car door), the driver prepared a receipt for me. By the amount of time it took him, I figured he was trying to get the machine to prepare it for me, but it turns out he was just taking an unusually long time writing a couple of numbers onto a small card.

After taking my chances riding in a taxi, I was relieved to be at my destination, in one piece. I hope his other passengers will be able to enjoy that relief, too.

- RG>

Hey buffleheads! It's National Grouch Day!

Oh, sure. You're celebrating Zoom's birthday today.

You're even celebrating National All Bufflehead's (sic) Day.

But are you celebrating National Grouch Day? You know, Oscar the Grouch's birthday?

Figures.

You probably wouldn't even have noticed the apostrophe if I hadn't sicced Latin annotations on it.

- RG>

Dear Mr. Quebec car driver

Dear Mr. Quebec car driver,

I appreciate—and even share—your desire for you to get the hell out of my neighbourhood, but I would appreciate it if you didn't treat the other direction's light turning yellow to mean that you can proceed from the red light at full acceleration.

I see the blast from my bike's air horn brought this reminder to your attention, as you came to a stop just after your rear bumper passed the stop line and you waited patiently for the green light in your (and my) direction.

I hope you noticed and were ashamed by the "slow clap" from the hipster pedestrian at the corner. Were it not for the scorn and ridicule from him and the other pedestrians at this intersection, I would have considered reporting your behaviour to the authorities; however, no punishment available to the police would be as severe, nor as immediate, as that hipster insult you have already encountered.

In closing, I particularly hope you achieve that desire of getting the hell out of my neighbourhood, and that this desire never again goes unfulfilled.

But please do it safely.

Sincerely,

- RG>

Pink irony

There were a few articles in the news lately about "pinkwashing": slapping a pink Breast Cancer Awareness Month ribbon on a product to make it sell better. One story in the Ottawa Citizen, Pink Fatigue describes the difficulty some groups face with the many caveats placed on the amounts given in these campaigns, and that money needs to go towards prevention, not just treatment. It's a controversial topic that I won't wade into too deeply.

Except to post this photo of the same issue covered last year.

I wonder if there was any effect on Telus' "Go Pink" campaign after the ad was placed right next to an article decrying just those types of ads!

- RG>