The Wizard of Oz is one because…I forget. Here the Wizard, portrayed by flamboyant character actor Frank Morgan admonishes Dorothy not to pay attention to the man behind the curtain.
I could not pay attention to the ballgame last night, the culmination of what might have been one of the best World Series played since World War II. I was too tired, and too wiped from the road. I have had all the emotions drain out of me, and the mental toughness on which the Socotra enterprise runs is exceedingly tenuous. Flaccid, almost.
I did manage to stay upright for the surprise ceremony to honor my pal Mac with the presentation of a commemorative plaque honoring his service to the nation in the seventy-odd years since he marched at Northwestern University’s Midshipman Commissioning program.
It was a kick to see his three families who honored his legacy- the extended clan of family, his Navy buddies, and co-workers from Arlington Hospital. The contrast between his lively intellect and the dullness of my Dad’s fog could not have been more stark.
When the cocktail hour was done, I hauled my butt out to the Bluesmobile for the short drive back from the Cocktail Porch at Army-Navy, where the girders of the new clubhouse are rising over what used to be the tennis courts.
I was glad I made it back for that, and glad to be in ahead of the chill, dank penetrating rain that is wet here, but likely to bring up to ten inches of early heavy snow to New England.
It was just about 800 miles dead on back into the Capital, and the Bluesmobile performed flawlessly the entire way. There is, hands down, no finer interstate car than the Ford Crown Vic P-71.
Inelegant, perhaps, and technology from the last century in its final flower.
They are making everything lighter now to make CAFÉ fleet emissions and mileage standards, even the big trucks, no that strange massive sedan with the not-found-in-nature blue paint scheme is going to be a rolling monument so long as I can maintain it.
I listened to an audio book almost all the way, and paid no attention to the world away from the concrete. The Bluesmobile has no fancy satellite radio hook-up, and I drove with one ear-bud planted on the iPod as a British fellow narrated Norwegian hard-boiled writer Jo Nesbo’s fine detective novel “Devil’s Triangle.”
I don’t know how the Scandinavians managed to highjack America’s native story line, but between Nesbo and Steig Larsson, the brooding Northmen have done a fine job.
Not listening to the radio was strangely liberating, and concentrating on the story made me not think of the last glimpse I had of Raven in his wing chair, his face folding in on itself at The Bluffs, or of Big Mama with her radiant blue eyes the color of Delft porcelain, trying to figure everything out, suddenly alone.
I tried not to pay too much attention to that, and was happy I did not have to listen to any more nonsense from Washington, which was good. Soon enough I would be mired in the 1% of the Capital while the 99% of real Americans try to figure out what is to come next.
The downside of my inattention was that I largely missed the drama of one of the greatest post-WW II World Series, and the technical demonstration that might- might, I stress- change the world.
That was supposed to happen on Friday: a guy named Andea Rossi was supposed to demonstrate his Energy Catalyzer (E-Cat, for short), for an undisclosed customer in Italy. This is the latest incarnation of the concept of “Cold Fusion,” which you may recall as being right up there with the Comet Kahoutec as the Story of the 1980s.
Researchers Stanley Pons and Martin Fleishman claimed to have identified a way to generate energy through room-temperature fusion in 1989, something that defied the laws of conventional physics.
No one could replicate their results, and the whole concept was driven into the wilderness of other junk science, but Signore Rossi claims to have generated measurable power by passing hydrogen over a low cost catalyst based on nickel. His process generates copper and steam.
Yesterday, with much secrecy and fanfare, Rossi’s E-Cat produced half a megawatt of thermal power in self-sustaining mode for nearly six hours in a warehouse in Bologna.
It might just be boloney. Something that seems to be too good to be true usually is. We have made a practice of believing impossible things of late, and I am reluctant to invest much enthusiasm in this new concept, but imagine just for a moment that this actually works, and that low-pressure steam power is essentially available for nothing.
Change the world? Hell, yes.
I was trapped in snarled traffic on Route 7 out in Loudoun County when I put the detective story aside to try to identify what shovel-ready project had disrupted orderly movement, and there was a brief mention of the results of the experiment, along with the disclaimer that the customer for whom the experiment was performed remained anonymous.
All my spider senses went up at that, and I smell bunko. Still, the people who performed the work were Italian, after all, and like their Justice System, not readily understood by the rest of the world.
No less an authority than Dr. Tony Tether has expressed interest. He used to be director of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency- DARPA- and is part of a tradition that brought us unlikely things like the Internet. Dr. Tether says if the E-Cat is a fraud, it is a damned good one.
So, as I drove in the last stretch of concrete on the 2,231 miles jaunt inside the Beltway, my brain began to congeal into more conventional mode. I unpacked the car at Big Pink, and collected the bushel basket of junk mail from Rhonda at the front desk. She gave me a big sunny smile and an excellent hug.
“How was it?” she asked.
“A lot of miles,” I said. “And a lot of sadness and guilt.”
“We do what we have to do,” she said. “It is all part of the journey.”
“Yeah,” I responded. “But the world might have changed today.”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “What do you mean?”
I explained about the experiment in Bologna, and the implication that power might be free.
“That could change things a lot,” she said dubiously.
“Probably too good to be true,” I nodded. “But good news, even if it is bogus, is a refreshing change.”
“I suppose so,” said Rhonda. “I haven’t been paying attention.”
“Me neither,” I said.
Then I took the elevator up to the fourth deck and dumped the bags and the mail on the dining table, and looked down at the green tarp over the pool. I thought I probably ought to go to work. Some stuff might have been happening there while I wasn’t paying attention.
Mad Scientist Andrea Rossi at the first demonstration of his E-Cat in January, 2011. Pay no attention.
Copyright 2011 Vic Socotra.
www.vicsocotra.com