I’m calling this a memory review since it is based on memory, not on actually holding the pen in my grubby paws. For a simple reason: I don’t have the pen anymore.
The most obvious case: the Parker Vector. Grammar school started me off on fountain pens. Sadly I forgot what model or even brand they were. I suspect Bruynzeel but that’s just a hunch. Could as well be Lamy or Pelikan. The pens had a ridiculous long pointy cap, making them look a bit like a desk pen or a dip pen. Except that it was the cap looking like that, not the barrel.
As I had no problem chewing this plastic pen to pieces, I remember that my next “fancy” pen was a full metal Parker ballpoint. Not the obiquitous Jotter, but the slightly more upscale “25.” I never cared too much about Parker ballpoints, especially not at a young age but boy did it get me off the pen-chewing habit.
Wanting to go back to fountain pens, as a schoolboy, I ended up getting a Vector. Back in the day for me Parker was synonymous with “Quality” and I did not doubt that this pen, probably costing me an amazing ƒ15 or something like that, would deliver the ultimate in writing perfection.
In its defense, I don’t think this pen ever let me down. Sure, it ran dry from time to time, but that had more to do with abuse (cleaning? what cleaning?) than anything else. I did learn to hate the Parker cartridges. Unlike international cartridges that fit two in a barrel, you’d have to do with a single cartridge. Which did have a “spare” section that could be activated by tapping it (in case you ran out of ink) but the shaky ride to school on the back of my bike would take care of that.
And well, are Parker cartridges expensive… The local office supply store sold noname-ink in little boxes of 25 or 50 cartridges for maybe ƒ5, and if memory serves me right you’d only get one box of five Parker cartridges for that. Maybe not, but that’s how it felt back in the day.
Anyway, after years of non-cleaning abuse I’m pretty sure the pen got permanently clogged and swapped out for more upscale pens. I don’t really have any good memories to this pen, but to be honest, for the money it was a pretty decent pen. If only it used standard international cartridges…
I’ve played many games in my life but none has been so entertaining and engaging as Kerbal Space Program, not even the Microsoft Flight Simulator! What is Kerbal Space Program (or KSP, in short) about? It is a fairly realistic simulation of, you guessed it, implementing a space program. You put together your own rockets, a bit like lego’s, and then you pilot them to the stars… or not. This fan video gives a pretty good idea what KSP is all about:
Building a rocket, once you’ve figured out how the editor works, is easy. Or I should say, the process of building a rocket is easy. Building one that actually is able to bring a Kerbal to space—and back!—is a different story. Kerbals, by the way, are the little green men that populate the KSP world. Although all rocket parts are modelled to, or inspired by, Earth technology, the whole game takes place in a different “universe” with different characters and planets. The main reason for that is playability; playing the game in a life-sized solar system would simply take too long. On the other hand, transit from Kerbin (the home planet and the equivalent of Earth) and its nearest moon, Mun, takes about three hours. That means that time acceleration is still welcome, but at least it’s not needed to the extend it would be in a “real” solar system.
How realistic is KSP? There are two answers to that. I like playing it, so I tend to go for “fairly realistic” but haters can just as easily say “there’s a good amount of shortcomings.” I think that a good way to describe it is that it is “realistic in character,” which is kinda funny for a game based on little green men in outer space! What I mean by that it follows most of the laws of physics, but that there are some departures from that, for various reasons. The developers do emphasize that gameplay, not realism, is their prime motivator for the decisions they make.
One of the most glaring shortcomings is atmospheric modeling. Aerodynamics are completely absent in the game, and as a crutch air resistance is based on mass, not on shape and size (and placement). The result is that placing a nosecone on a rocket or a booster actually increases resistance instead of reducing it. The reason this hasn’t been fixed yet is because that crutch works pretty well for the few minutes a craft spends in the atmosphere
In line with this is atmospheric re-entry. The re-entry effects look beautiful but are purely for show. Your ship won’t actually heat up, it will not burn up if the wrong side is exposed (in fact there is no “right” side since there are no heat shields), and the plasma heat effects are depending on altitude, not speed.
Movement of ships is decided by predetermined paths called “Keplerian Patched Conics” and assumes a single source of gravity, be it a moon, planet, or sun you’re circling. When you are in the “sphere of influence” of, say, Minmus, one of the moons of Kerbin, it is only Minmus gravity you’re dealing with, not Kerbin or even Kerbol (the sun) gravity. That may seem like a big departure from Newtonian physics (usually referred to as “n-body physics” because it involves any number of planetary bodies (“n”), not just one) but it has a couple of huge advantages for modelling the game, and although historically it predates the way Newton defined the universe that doesn’t mean it’s bad. I recall somebody from NASA saying “we use Keplerian patched conics alls the time where we can get away with it. They are numerically stable and calculate much faster,” so KSP is in good company.
And there’s a whole list of little things around ship construction, life support, etc. But on the whole, KSP does a remarkable job in being reasonably life-like for most of the time, and while some whiners my complain over the lack of lagrange points or decaying orbits, for most players things work out just fine (the fact that your ship doesn’t wander off because the stars literally—well planets, actually—align has more positive than negative aspects).
You do learn quickly a lot of the finer nuances of spaceflight and rocket design. For instance, efficiency is far less a consideration when travelling through the lower layers of the atmosphere, brute power is; the quicker you leave the soup behind you the better. Or that meeting up with another ship is rarely ever “point your ship towards the other and burn,” but is instead about matching orbits which is mostly a waiting game. There’s a reason the game is hugely popular at NASA (especially the Jet Propulsion Laboratory) and that a special educational version is on its way, as many physics teachers have discovered that it’s a great way to let highschoolers discover physics by themselves, as opposed from a book.
Give it a try, the trial version is limited but free, and the full version is not that expensive!
An often overlooked element in writing: paper. Especially when you’re used to using ballpoints. Ballpoints seem the thrive on bad paper. The rougher the fibers, the better! Anyone who has ever tried their hands at a puzzle in the newspaper knows what I’m talking about. And if I do have to write on cheap fibrous paper, a ballpoint will be my first choice.
It’s different with a fountain pen. Yes, the fountain pen, smooth writer, is eager to deliver ink. Give it paper that soaks up the ink and things get ugly. Instead, you want smooth, coated paper. Not too smooth—try writing on the cover of a glossy magazine to find out what that means.
Don’t go blindly for expensive paper either though. Moleskine notebooks are trendy and freakishly expensive, but don’t get remarks too well on the FP Geeks website; the paper is too thin. At the other side of the spectrum, I got some $5 notebooks at Staples that did very well.
You can’t go wrong with brands like Rhodia and Clairfontaine, and apparently Leuchtturm 1911 is also very good. Personally I have good experiences with “Markins by CR Gibson” notebooks, but far less with Eccolo. Experiment, don’t be afraid to get hurt, and try out a lot!
Your most important camera setting… Is it autofocus? Is it exposure? Is it whitebalance? Is it daylight savings time? No, no, no, no… It is a very utilitarian setting, that you will probably never use. And it’s harmful when set wrong. So why does your camera have it?
You see, your camera needs to be sold. Even if you curse to Vile Capitalists and their hated Bean Counters, the reality is that you won’t be buying your next gizmo if the factory went titsup.
So… it sells a lot better when you can try it in the store. But memory cards go missing. People want to see how the shots come out on their own computers. They just want to steel those expensive $10 memory cards. Whatever. Now your camera can’t shoot, since there’s no card in it.
“Well let’s make it shoot without a card in it then.” That’s like shooting without film—an exceptional bad idea in real life. Unless… unless… the camera is in a store.
So cameras have this “demo” setting. Or “lock release,” or whatever they call it. When you get the camera, make sure it’s set to the setting “don’t take pictures when the memory card is missing” because that day will come.
I’ve been lucky. But I’ve been turning this setting off religiously. One of my coworkers asked me a couple of months ago. His daughter was down the shore for a weekend. Took tons of pictures, “but they’re stored on the camera’s memory and she can’t get them out.”
What do you mean? I asked, being familiar with that camera. There IS no internal memory, they’re on the memory card. “No, it’s not on the memory card, see, she discovered that she forgot to put the memory card in. But the camera took the pictures. So they have to be somewhere, right?”
You throw a die 5 times. What’s a more likely outcome? 1 2 3 4 5 or 2 1 4 3 3?
You flip a pure coin three times. The outcome is H H H – what are the chances of the next flip being heads?
So, what did you pick?
7? Congratulations, you’re not alone. About 45% of the people asked about a number “between 1 and 10” will pick 7.
Did you say “they are both equally as likely?” Congratulations!
A pure coin, not a weighted one, will have a 50% chance of heads, every single time. Yes, there’s a 1/16th chance of having heads four times in a row. But that’s when you start out with nothing. After three times heads you’ve already weeded out 14 of 16 permutations… giving you a chance of 50% to make it H H H H.The problem with random numbers is (a) it’s really hard to get truly random numbers, and (b) if it doesn’t “look” random people won’t believe that it is. Throwing 1 2 3 4 5 with one die is not more or less likely than a “random” sequence of numbers, or five sixes (or five ones, for that)
Does it matter?
Well, if you play online games that depend on chance, it does. Consider Backgammon. A double in backgammon counts double. So a double six is really four sixes and getting two or even three in a row can turn the game quite around.
Now, how do you play backgammon online? Do you trust your opponent? “Dude, believe it or not but I totally just threw double six. Again.” Of course you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Enter a service like Games By Email where you can play various games, at your own pace, against opponents. Including games that rely on random things like dice throws. As a neutral party, one can expect Games By Email (hereafter called GBE) to be a neutral party in this, right?
Well of course, unless your opponent does get those three of four doubles in a row. Obviously there’s some sinister scheming going on! “But I’m using a Mersenne Twister to generate dice throws!” Well then, never mind that the chances of getting four doubles in a row are only 1 in 1296 and you’re producing thousands of dice throws per day… Obviously your algorithm is wrong!
A brute force solution
So, what do you do then? You build the dice-o-matic, a Rube Goldberg contraption that can generate a freakish 1.3 MILLION dice throws per day. And you post a video of that machine to prove that your dice rolls are actual dice rolls, to quiet the critics.
Then you read the youtube comments. “LOLZ ur an idiot. Dont u know u can use the mersenne twister 4 that? lolz”
Sometimes you just can’t win.
DISCLAIMER: I’m not affiliated with Games By Email nor the Dice-O-Matic. Stumbling on the Dice-O-Matic on youtube my first reaction was “why?” but after reading the description I could totally understand it. Given the many comments about “a computer can do this just as good, dude!” one can only conclude that understanding math is apparently a lot easier than understanding the human mind.
One of the fascinating things about a fountain pen is the way it is filled. The history of the fountain pen is mainly the history of the filling mechanism. If you’ve ever worked with ink or paint you can see why: failure of the pen, either when carrying, using, or filling, is a nasty business.
Even today there are a handful of different mechanisms on the market. Which, when you think about, tells you one thing: there’s no such thing as The Perfect Mechanism. Why is it so hard? Because some of the design criteria are at odds with each other:
The mechanism should have a high ink capacity
It should be reliable even after years of using it
Refilling should not result in bringing your clothes to the drycleaner and scrubbing your hands like a surgeon
If it weren’t for the capacity, the solution would be simple: cartridges. But if you use a fountain pen, you generally use it and the pen running dry all the time becomes very, very annoying. Besides that, cartridges never offer the wide choice in ink as bottled ink does.
If it weren’t for the very limited capacity, limited choice, and relatively high price, everyone would love cartridges, because they are perfect in any other way. Maintenance becomes a matter of dunking the section in a cup of water once in a while, and that’s it.
Of course, you can use a converter. And that is almost perfect. The converter mechanism is easy to clean, and if it ever started to leak, or became stuck, it can be replaced. But the less-than-1ml ink capacity is a huge, huge turnoff for fanatic users.
This is one of the oldest mechanism. The ink is stored in a rubber or silicone bladder. By squeezing the bladder the air is pushed out, and by releasing it, its volume returns to original size, creating underpressure that is used to suck in ink through the nib.
You will hardly ever encounter these pens under that name because a myriad of mechanism to do the squeezing without removing the barrel sprung up. One of the most popular was the lever filler, where a little lever on the side of the pen was pushed out (squeezing the bladder) and released to fill up the pen.
Limited capacity and a tendency of the bladder to dry out and crack over time makes these pens a relative rare sight these days.
By far the most popular filling method of the more upscale pens is the piston filling mechanism. The reservoir is a straight tube with a piston in it. The piston is connected to a rod which in turn is connected to the knob at the end of the pen. The rod actually consists of two parts with threads; the outer part rotates with the knob, the inner part doesn’t and thus moves up and down the reservoir. From there it’s the same story: move the piston to the bottom to expell all the air, move it back up, and the resulting vacuum sucks in the ink.
The mechanism requires some maintenance (which is usually not easy to do for the owner): the piston seal requires lubrication once in a while, as does the piston mechanism. Aside from that, piston filling is nearly perfect: much larger ink capacity than cartridges, converters and sacs, and easy to fill the pen up (without having to take it apart).
The downsides: Due to the extension mechanism the piston can never travel further up the barrel than halfway. Although the ink capacity of piston fillers is in many cases respectable, it is still limited unless the barrel has astronomical proportions.
The vacuum filler has a reservoir that, like that of a piston filler, is straight, but it tapers out near the section. A thin rod connects the piston which in normal position is near the section. To fill the pen, the piston is pulled up all the way to the top of the barrel. A one-way valve releases the pressure that gets built up above the piston. Then, the piston is pushed down again, creating a vacuum behind the piston while pushing the air out of the pen in front of it. Once the piston reaches the bottom of the barrel and enters the tapered section, the vacuum is “released” and ink is sucked into the pen.
The mechanism is elegant, and unlike the piston filler, the barrel gets used almost all the way to store ink. The downside is that the main part of the reservoir has a smaller diameter (because it needs room to taper out near the section of the pen) and that the rod attached to the piston takes up (a very little) bit of space as well.
Add to it, that the mechanism is simpler to operate (no rotating parts) but requires two vacuum seals. One where the rod passes through, and the piston of course. On top of that, the piston seal needs to be constructed in such a way that it only seals off when pushed down, and not up. All that makes the vacuum filler a more expensive mechanism; its main benefit, larger capacity, can be simply offset on a piston filler by increasing the barrel size.
The oldest fill mechanism is seeing a bit of a revival: the eye-dropper. Simple screw off the barrel, and fill it with ink. The easiest way to do that without making a tremendous mess is with an eye dropper (hence the name), or a syringe.
Eye-droppers have huge capacities. But filling the pen is potentially messy, and the threads on the section need to be greased before screwing the barrel back on to prevent leaking. It’s not a miracle that other methods have sprung up over time!
Why the revival? Because a significant amount of modern fountain pen users are passionate fountain pen lovers who do not mind a little bit of inconvenience, and the eye dropper has an ink capacity that is simply unrivalled. Pens are usually not sold as eye-droppers but any cartridge-pen is a candidate.
Not every pen can be “converted” to an eye-dropper though. Ink is highly corrosive (which is why nibs are plated with corrosion resistant metals like gold or nickel) which means that metal barrels are out of the question. Also, some pens have the cap screwing on the section, not the barrel. From time to time, when you unscrew the cap, you end up unscrewing th barrel instead. Not a big deal with a cartridge pen. But with an eye-dropper…
So there you have it. Various filling mechanisms, and a reason for collectors to buy certain pens, because they want to have a pen that uses a special filling method. For daily use, piston fillers and converters are by far the most popular choice.
After finding my old fixpencil I discovered that I only had about 2.5cm (1 inch) of lead left. Searching for 2mm leads online (trust me you do not want to buy them at Staples, unless you really want to get rid of your money) lead me to fountain pens. At that point I thought “I should really start writing with a fountain pen again.” Some searching turned up an old pen. And ink. Victory! This was a freebie from the Postbank, in the USA better known as ING.
This pen has been reviewed by fountain pen reviewer/god Stephen Brown, who pretty much has the same opinion about the pen as I do: it looks great, and for a pen that was given away for free it’s fairly well made. Of course, it writes horribly, and one of my biggest beefs was the fact that you couldn’t push a spare cartridge in the barrel (which makes using a converter also impossible).
At one point I asked my mom to send me some cartridges (they are freakishly expensive here in the USA). What I did learn was that your ink does matter. The pen wrote horribly bad with brandless “Bruna” (a large chain of magazine/office supply stores) cartridges and worked a lot better when I filled up a modified converter (to make it fit in the barrel) with 15 year old Parker Quink. Still, not the best pen around but it fixed my “need… fountain… pen…” needs until the much, much better Nemosine Singularity arrived.
I had two much better pens. A Diplomat Attaché. It used cartridges and it started leaking when capped, significantly reducing my enthusiasm for that pen. And a Pelikan piston filler. No idea what model, maybe an M150 or M200? I actually had two Pelikans; in both cases the clip broke off very quickly, and the piston mechanism jammed within two years. Of course, little did I know about cleaning pens and emptying them during the summer when I was not using them… It’s ironic that a $5 swag pen got me back, not the more exclusive brand pens.
I have always like fountain pens. I just haven’t written with them for a while. How did I get back into the groove? One thing leading to another… The older I get, the more habits I seem to pick up from my father. One of those habits: “the one writing tool that always works… is a pencil.”
HA! You didn’t expact that, did you? But bear with me. When I was in college I had to draw. A lot. It comes with mechanical engineering. And unlike some other studies at our college, *cough* construction *cough*, mechanical engineers tend to be really, really finicky about their drawing. I guess it has to do with the fact that in construction you’re happy when things are within 2″ if your specificationsm, where in mechanics you’re going to be upset if something is not within specified tolerances, which is usual .5 mm to .1 mm (an inch is 25.4 mm)
So, drawing with pencil we did. And again, not with what you’d think: “Well, if precision is desired, you are probably drawing with a .5 mm mechanical pencil.” And again, no. Not precise enough. We’d use a 2 mm mechanical pencil, and sharpen the tip on a piece of wood with some sandpaper stapled to it. Sharp as a nail, quite literally since we’d be using 2H (that’s #4 for you Yanks) leads as well. The pencil holder used was recommended by school—reliable, cheap and very, very uncharming.
Then, at an art store, I saw the Caran d’Ache Fixpencil. It looked simple, elegant, and with its roughened tip, very friendly to use. And it was enourmous out of budget for a college student. Luckily, when I encountered it, my birthday was coming up (I think) and one of my beloved sisters gave it to me.
Now that I wanted to write more with pencil I started looking for that old fixpencil again. I have a beautiful 0.5 mm mechanical pencil made by Staedler (one of my favorite brands for writing utensils) with a rubber grip, indicator of hardness of the fillings, etc. But, quite frankly, 0.5 mm mechanical pencils just don’t write very smoothly. So I dug up the good ole’ fixpencil and… bliss!
Later I learned a few things that I did not know about the fixpencil. For instance, that there’s a sharpener in the red cap on the back, or that it was one of the first mechanical pencils on the market and the design has, since 1929, basically not changed. My quest of finding decently priced 2mm leads got me back in using fountain pens… but that’s a different story.
Wheter it is bikes, skis, amplifiers, fountain pens or cameras, enthusiasts always obsess over the material. Not surprisingly, because better material means better quality, right? Well… partially. But not quite all the way.
The aluminium bike
When I grew up, bikes were made of steel. Steel comes in many gradations, the lowest being FE360 or as we were taught in college, “PBS” which is a Dutch abbreviation that can be politely translated as “UGS” or “Urinals grade steel.”
Back in those days, when men were Men and we walked every day to school, barefeet, in snowstorms, and we liked it, the more expensive racing bikes were made out of the exotic light-weight aluminium. Of course, those bikes were more expensive, but they were stiffer yet smoother, etc.
Over time, aluminium trickled down the production line to cheaper bikes. Nowadays, it is known as a material that is cheap and durable, but also known for “a harsh ride.” Have the physical properties of the material changed over time? No. What changed was with how much care the product was made.
The big misconception is that it is the material that makes the difference. “Made from expensive materials. Must be better.” No, since it is manufactured with more care, the product is more expensive. And at that higher price, you might as well use more expensive materials that make it even better. But the material follows the quality, not the other way around.
Is gold a better material for pen nibs than steel? Not really. And in the end the tip that is touching the paper is different material anyway. But, if you’re making a $200 nib you might as well gold plate it for an additional $20 and give your customers a reason your high-quality nib is so expensive. Even though the material has little influence on price, and is actually inconsequential for quality.
RPN Notation in calculators is unique to HP these days, and even then only limited to very few calculators. Personally, I love RPN entry and think it’s way better than DAL (Direct Algebraic Logic) that is used by all other calculators.
First let me explain what is not the reason I prefer RPN. Somehow the “lesser keystrokes” argument always comes up, but I don’t think it is that convincing. Consider this calculation that HP uses as an example to tout how much more efficient RPN is:
In algebraic notation you would enter it like either like this:
( 3 + 5 ) ÷ ( 7 + 6 ) =
Which is a whopping 12 keystrokes. Or, if you have a primitive desk calculator that doesn’t offer parenthesis, you would enter it like this:
7 + 6 [M+] 3 + 5 ÷ [MRC] =
Which is an impressive 10 keystrokes! No, then RPN:
3 [ENTER] 5 + 7 [ENTER] 6 + ÷
Which is 9 keystrokes. Wow! The difference! “But with complex calculations the difference will add up.” Well yes, with complex calculations your numbers tend to get longer too, so the relative difference will only get less. Will it really matter if a calculation takes 35 keystrokes or 40?
So what is the advantage then?
The example is actually good, but for the wrong reason. What I truly like about RPN is that it makes entering the calculation so much easier. Let’s review the same example and see what happens when you enter it:
First you calculate the numerator:
3 [Enter] (“start a new calculation with this entry”)
5 [+] (“take 5, and add it to the running total” — Calculator shows 8)
Then you calculate the denominator:
6 [Enter] (“start a new calculation”)
7 [+] (“take 7, and add it to the running total” — Calculator shows 13)
Now, take the original total and divide that by what I have right now:
[÷] (Calculator shows 0.6154)
Because previous calculations are automatically stored in memory (“the stack”) complex calculations become far more logical to enter. Consider this calculation:
But you’ll have to pay attention to the parenthesis. How much easier in RPN!
“Let’s do 1×3×5 first” 1 [Enter] 3 [×] 5 [×]
“Then do the other half of the numerator” 2 [Enter] 4 [×] 6 [×]
“Add those two together” [+]
“Now let’s do the denominator…” 1 [Enter] 3 [×] 5 [×] 7 [×]
“…and divide by it” [÷]
Entering your calculation, despite the “reverse entry” goes in a much more natural fashion than the acrobatics with memory and parenthesis that algebraic input demands.