Jackie Robinson In 3-D

With perhaps days/hours to go before the baby, I’m doing a big push on Jackie Robinson to see how far I can get before my life changes so much.  I had a big day in the shop yesterday and took these stereo photos.

Together, they can be viewed in 3-D.  If you were one of those who could left your eyes relax and see those old 3-D, computer-generated drawings, then you SHOULD be able to do this the same way.  I can do it.  But it takes a few moments to get it.

The trick, for me, is to get far enough away from the two photos, so that they are a little smaller than a postcard, held at arms length.  Then you stare, allowing your eyes to relax and not truly focus.  When your eyes are relaxed correctly, you should see double–that’s 4 images.  Keep trying different pressures on your focus until the two center photos become 1 photo and it will be 3-D.  It’s eerie.  When you get it, you will KNOW, so if you are wondering, then you don’t have it.  Remember: Try and make the middle two images merge into one, so that overall, there are 3 photos, and only concentrate on that middle photo–that’s the one that will become 3-dimensional.

How did I take this photo?  With a 3-D camera?  Nahh, with my own camera.  Since I’m working with a tripod, and nothing is in motion, the time lapse between photo1 and photo2 can be ignored.  You couldn’t do this trick with live action, because p1 and p2 would not match.  But in the studio, you just take one photo and then move the tripod 80mm to the right and take another one.  80mm is about the distance between people’s eyes.  The “interpupillary distance”.  Actually, in the population, it’s much smaller for most and is smaller for women and bigger for some ethnic groups.  It runs between 65 and 83 mm.  At 25.4 mm per inch, you do the inch-math.

With the two photos of EXATLY the same thing and yet from two slight different (80mm apart) vantage points, they are about what your brain takes in and processes into one, 3-D image.  The slightly different perspective means that the right eye sees a little further around Jackie’s left side, than the left eye can see.  That info is used by your wonderful brain to give you all sorts of depth and distance information.  Imagine trying to golf without it!  “How far to the pin?”  “Where’s the 150 yd marker?”

And for you Liberals out there, remember, the beauty of the eye and the brain and the depth is pure chance–we’re talking NO INTELLIGENT DESIGN, right?  Don’t even think those words in a public school.

Before you go thinking I’m some kind of techy person, realize that 3-D cameras and looking at “stereo-images” like we are here, originated at about the time of the Civil War.  Stereo view photos were all the rage from about 1870 to 1910.  They looked like this:

They were viewed in a viewer that looked like this:

The slides were available as canned, commercially produced photos of current events and famous places and landmarks.  Think GAF-viewmaster from the 1970′s:

I’m not sure why they fell out of favor.  Perhaps WWI, which destroyed so much of what good was happening in the world around 1914.

Anyway, they did commercially produce stereo cameras for the home-gamer and here is one:

All you need is the ability to take TWO images simultaneously, one interpupillary distance apart.  Now if you search for these things, you will only find, I believe, film cameras from yesteryear.  There doesn’t seem to be any digital stereo cameras available.  There are a couple of guys who have hacked together two digital cameras, but the hack is never simple and the mounting and alignment is never easy.  Both lenses have to point at the same focal point out in space, or the pictures will look hokey–like mine!

What I want to know is why doesn’t SOMEone produce a decent digital stereo camera?  WHY?  With PC’s bringing down photography prices and giving us all sorts of exotic ways to display them, it’s a perfect marriage!  I have searched, but not recently, so it’s possible that there is something out there now.  If anyone knows of a product, comment in please.

For Jackie fans, Jackie may be getting his first paint today on the lower legs and shoes and pants.  It’s always the single biggest, quickest change in the statue and for a medium that goes crawling by in the hundreds of hours, this is a welcome thing.

Everyone Needs One Of These

Click here to open a new window to The Sportsman’s Guide catalog and the item

I’ve been harping on it and now I have to post the actual catalog page that it is on.  Here it is.  Just $17.97  It works on anything with an audio out jack, be it RCA or 1/8″ or 1/4″.   The wireless headphones come with the transmitter and you have everything you need.  2 AAA’s run each device and you get many hours on a single battery.

Babe and I Live in Squalor

Since someone gave me the tip to include some scale in these photos, I have to jump in there. And I’m not really dressed for it but that is reality in the cold cellar. That’s two pairs of insulated undies and about three or four shirts. Class.

And although the shelves look dishevelled, everything has a place where it goes. Not a place for storage, just the place I found it and the place I keep leaving it. It’s amazing how much time gets lost if any of that stuff is moved even 2 feet. Some things have not been moved since the early 1990s. Some of those things have been used just once or even never, but they’re still there and they are reference points I guess. Like the garbage collector, I’m not going to give up on certain ideas and tools. You know, the neighbor with the 1939 Ford rotting in the yard? It’s always like, “…it’s still good…it’s worth like, a LOT of money…” Some of the things are there for nostalgia as in, “…yea, I remember when I was that stupid!”. Or, you find a relic and immediately remember exactly what you were doing the night it came to be: “…that was ’92, Tom was hanging out and Johnny Carson did his last show that night…” It could be a tool, a business card or even a little piece of wood that was going to be just right for something. There are times when I wouldn’t trade ANY of this space for the entire Hearst Castle at San Simeon.

Grand Ole Babe Ruth

I’m back after a pause of several months.  As I explained in my last comment, I was curtailing the blogging activities in favor or regaining some kind of time/impulse management for my life.  A lot has gone on in the past few months and many have written emails to me ask why I’m not commenting and what do I think of this and/or that?  I’ll try and cover the basics and also try to post at least 3 things per week, so those who got out of the habit of coming here, may want to swing by now and again.

The Tommy Show: Going strong and now in its 4th sold out month.  Tommy is getting bigger and smiling and laughing and grabbing things.  He looks around.  He likes to do the “assisted sit up” and he makes faces.  We love him.  He’ll be rolling over any day now.  And, he still has the long arms.

The Babe Ruth Statue: (This is one big reason I’m no longer posting) is sold.  I have a tentative agreement at this point to complete and deliver The Babe to the Gaylord National on the Potomac, Hotel in Washington DC by Jan 1.  This is the reason that I spend every night at my “second job” and get full of sawdust until midnight or 1am, if things are going well.

The photo above is from last Feb, about the time that I had halted work on him to coach 8U baseball with my nephew (and write this blog–but since the blog is apparently how the folks at the Gaylord found me, my lack of impulse control paid off in this case).   My point is, the statue is well beyond this point and per our discussions, I have concentrated on the head so that I can get that finished and send some photos down to the buyer so they know better what they are acquiring.   To that end, the head is 80% finished and it looks like a disembodied Babe Ruth head–a ringer.  And a bit unnerving due to the realism.  Already, it has freaked out Mrs. Pinetar and grandma.  Tommy doesn’t seem to register it yet.  In a week or two, I should have some shots of it fully painted and looking like The Babe.  I should also have some better progress shots up soon.  Stay tuned.  We’re excited and the further into this I get, the more convinced I become that The Gaylord Hotel folks are going to be floored by the finished Babe.  This thing will be turning heads for a long time.

A word about the Gaylord properties.  Click here to launch their site in a new window 

I had not heard of them prior to their contacting me.  Their original property is the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, or, Opryland.  This is a major, signature property in Americana.  Now I know that most of my readers are NorthEasterners who know nothing of country music, but trust me, this is baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and American music all rolled up into one.  They also have top shelf, first cabin properties in Dallas and Kissimmee, FL.  The newest property is the DC property and the hotel has 5 or 6 restaurants, one of which, is the sports bar in which The Babe will reside.  I’m excited to see it.  I’m also excited about the Nationals opening their brand new ballpark next April.

Which brings me to the next topic.  The Mets.  Most thought I was despondent when they lost in spectacular fashion.  Truth?  I was not bothered at all.  The older I get, the more I watch baseball for individual and team stories.  I do not just root for one team.  That worked great up until 1986 and then as I got older and realized the business side of it and what was really happening, it became less and less important to me that the Mets “win”.

I’m also annoyed at how the team is run.  I don’t feel any connection to the Mets of my youth.  When I go to the game at Shea with my 8 year old nephew, I am afraid of where they are going to park me (mostly a riddle inside a puzzle), annoyed at the $14 parking charge.  Then, when I get into my seats, the PA system literally deafens me.  I can’t even speak to my nephew in the seat next to me because the jackass marketing wizards at Los Mets think that I paid $75.00 to hear 25 year old Bachman Turner Overdrive music blared at pain-threshold levels.  After that, the Mets usually put on some type of Spanish-themed dance or musical act (also ear-splittingly loud), to the point where, I feel like I might be in Puerto Rico or the Caribbean.  Now I have many Hispanic friends, and I’m not prejudiced at all, but going to Shea now makes me feel like I’m in a foreign country.

And the players now dance, seemingly after every base hit.  I don’t want my little Tommy thinking that celebrating after every play is ok: It isn’t.  It’s unprofessional and it shows up the other team.  It is insecure.  It says to the world, “I’m so insecure, that I have to try and remind you that I just succeeded”.  To me, there is nothing cooler than just doing the bit on the field and letting the crowd cheer.  To do anything else is to be an a**.  But Los Mets would rather dance, at times, it seems, than play.  And don’t think the other teams and especially the umps, see this.  Think you saw the Mets get a lot of close calls down the stretch?  Hmm?  I saw them get jobbed.  I don’t blame the umps.

And now I hear that the Mets are looking at getting  A-Rod.  Nothing more needs to be said.  I’m not surprised.  He has no class and the Mets are long devoid of class.  He’s probably taking the dancing lessons from Reyes right now.

The Mets are also spending 120 million.  That’s the most in the NL, kiddies.  I don’t want to root for dopey Fred and Jeff Wilpon’s real estate wallet.  Face it, most of what people think of as pro sports is rooting for a non-sporting, rich (nothing wrong with being rich) guy’s wallet.  Kids might-as-well be on the playground taunting each other, “…my owner’s got more assets than YOUR owner…” Because that’s what it comes down to.  That’s why I like to see new stories each year.  Stories like the Rockies and Tulo and Braun and Fausto.  Great stuff.  And Cleveland.  Haven’t won since 1948 when they had the last, good, player manager in Lou Boudreau.  That’s exciting.  That’s fun.  Not the Yankees spending 220 million every year and pummeling everyone.  That’s pro wrestling.  That’s the Harlem Globetrotters. 

I’m this close to being a Washington Nationals fan.  Long live Joel Hanrahan!

Many asked me about Torre.  He turned down a LOT of money.  I never understood why the Yankees overpay for the manager.  The job is unique in all the world.  Geez, take a micro economics course.  The people who do that job are fetted by kings and emporers.  Why would you OVER pay a guy to hang out with McCartney and Rudi and get a table at LeCirque just for walking in the door?  All the endorsements and perks?  My goodness.  Why do they pay Joe Torre 7 million when the next highest paid guy is 2.5 or 3 million?  Collossal stupidity.  Joe should pay THEM to have that job.

And get this straight.  I don’t think Joe Torre is all that.  Look kids, he wasn’t Miller Huggins with the Mets and Braves.  Repeat after me Yankee fans: He managed the largest payroll in MLB EVERY SINGLE YEAR HE WAS THERE, with the exception of 1997, when Baltimore edged the Yanks by like a million or so.  I think 72 million to 71.  He ALWAYS had the highest payroll in the industry.  Winning with the 1996 Yanks doesn’t make you Houdini.  You SHOULD win with all that talent.  His biggest skill, for my money, was having the thick skin to take all of George’s insults and degradations over the years.  But George was stupid enough to pay him f***-you money and eventually, he had enough money to be the first guy to tell Big Stein, “Shove it”.

And that’s the beauty of Joe Torre (and old New York baseball Giants fan btw).  He was the only guy to tell George, “I’m not your boy…” and for that we love him.  And now that he has taken Mattingly out of moneystripes, I mean, pinstripes, and put him in the NL, in Dodger Blue, I love him even more.  Go Joe!  Win it all!  Ethier, Kemp, Loney, Broxton, Saito, Martin, Penny…win it all and laugh all the way to the bank that George has missed the playoffs without you! hoo hooo.

Last point that has been driving me buggy.  During the world series, when I was carving the Babe Ruth head hour after hour.  I kept seeing this advertisement on TV about how people wanted their cars to be more “green”.  They said that they wanted to “plug their car in” and have the car’s fuel “grown”.

Because the media is being completely slanted politically on this, people are being misinformed.  And now the car companies and oil companies are reinforcing the myths surrounding the hybrids and “green” fuels.  And folks like Al Gore are either too stupid (I know, a guy who invented the internet?) or just too calculating to set the record straight, so people continue to be misled.

While it’s admirable to drive a smaller car and look to curtail personal fossil fuel consumption, one glaring thing is missing.  Many folks think that is something is electrical, it is somehow non-polluting.  That’s nonsense.  It doesn’t pollute locally, where the machine is being run, but somewhere, to be sure, there is a coal or oil, or gas-fired generating plant that BURNS FOSSIL FUELS and converts the chemical energy stored in the fossil fuels to mechanical energy that turns dynamos to generate electricity.  ANYtime you are using electricity that didn’t come from a solar cell or a hydro plant, you are burning fossil fuels, genius!  The actual carbon emissions might be in Oshkosh, but they are there.

And we’re not done yet.  Anytime that you convert energy from one source to another form, you LOSE in the conversion.  Add to that they electrical engines are less efficient than gas, and what you have is that the “green” person is actually burning MORE fossil fuels than if he had a traditional, gasoline engine.  Now that doesn’t figure in the disparity between the huge SUV and the little hybrid and I get that, but how many people really understand, or are being told, what lays behind the phrase, “plug my car in”? 

Lightning Quick I-Pods

A few months ago, I did a post on Lightning strikes. I did it mostly, because I wanted to write about the time that I HEARD the goalposts at Ramapo high school, BUZZING. So I threw it out there hoping to hear of others who have heard this strange phenomenon.

Proven! MLB Balls Juiced

Years ago, I had written this and submitted it to a couple of magazines. I recently came across it looking for things on some old hard drives I’ve saved. Have a look: –fog

***************

The article that Baseball fears most:
The ball is juiced and it can be proven!

I am tired of hearing that Major League Baseballs are juiced but that we can’t prove it. WRONG! They ARE juiced and we CAN prove it! We can prove it scientifically using the same simple method that Major League Baseball itself devised to determine that 1943 wartime baseballs were 25% less lively than 1942 balls.

Juicers

When I wanted a juicer, Mrs. Pinetar said that we’d never use it.  She’s right, we don’t use it.  –fog

USB Fridge

Al-Ban-I-aaa, Bob Murphy’s on the A-Dri-Atic

My brother suggested a post where we ask the readers the following question:  What is the farthest away from home you have ever been and still picked up WFAN in New York and heard a Mets game?  It is a 50,000 Watt station (whatever THAT means) and the signal can “skip” at night particularly.  “Skipping” is when the signal can go around the curvature of the earth by bouncing off a layer in the atmosphere and coming back down again.  I believe that the “skipping” can be multiple up-and-down cycles.  I think the sun does something chemically to the atmosphere that causes the skipping, rendering it useless during the day but when the sun does go down, the skipping can happen.  That’s how millions of Southerners and Westerners became St. Louis Cardinal fans in the 1920s to 2005.  KMOX was a powerful signal that they said could be heard clear as a bell on most nights from Las Vegas to Atalanta.  And for many, many years (1869-1957), St. Louis was the farthest WEST and SOUTH major league franchise in the USA.  So they and KMOX became the de-facto team for much of the rural country.  Mrs. Pinetar and I can totally attest to that as we went out to St. Louis 2 years ago and all around town are folks who drove hundreds of miles to see the Redbirds.  Atlanta, Colorado, Kansas, Texas, Tennessee, you name it.  America’s team basically.  I’m sure John Cougar Melloncamp will write an obnoxious song about it and it will be turned into not only a truck commercial but will be somehow adopted by Major League Baseball as some kind of anthem.

My “distance-Mets-moment” was in college.  In the Spring, I was driving home from Boston and somewhere in Connecticut I flipped past 66am, not expecting anything and I heard the voice of Bob Murphy wash over me doing a Spring Mets game.  It was totally unexpected and it caught me way off guard.  I loved it.  I still remember it.  I was amazed at how powerful that voice was and how good feeling just washed over me as soon as I heard The Murph.  Don’t forget, Murphy did the Mets from 1962 to 2004 or so.  I have probably heard that man say more words than anybody besides perhaps my parents.  A fixture with his ultra-square, humorless, workmanlike, unimaginative delivery, complete with that odd Oaklahoma drawl…”The Mets ween, they weeeen!”  And who can forget the 1000′s of “Ghat eeem!”‘s??  Wherever you are, Murph–Smoke up!

My brother’s Murph-moment (and the point of this post) tops all.  He was on his father-in-law’s sailboat in the Adriatic Sea (That’s between the old Yugoslavia and Italy for those of you not homeschooled).  He was playing with an AM radio (he will do that) and clear as a bell one night, Murph came in for a few minutes and then I think, he faded.  Murph across the Atlantic!  Bob Weeens, Bob Weeens…  –fog

Female Benchpress

Since Mrs. Pinetar and I are expecting our replacement in a few weeks, we are doing that time honored thing that all expecting parents do at this time: LaMaze class.  The RN running it is an old pro and she is great and has seen it all.