Those of you who enjoy good crash footage will love this entry. I don't want to give it away, except to say that no sentients were harmed in the making of this film. So, without further ado, here's today's Video Del Fuego entry:
"The Not-So-Irresistable Force Meets the Mostly Immovable Object", or
"I Fought The Wall, And The Wall Won".
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
I Like Monkeys
Editor's Note: I did not write this piece, nor do I know exactly who did. I first saw it about fifteen years ago on the public forum area of a local BBS. If you're in the right frame of mind (well, some might say the wrong frame of mind) it's very funny. I ran across it a few weeks ago by doing a Google search, and am saving it here for posterity.
I LIKE MONKEYS
I like monkeys.
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
I LIKE MONKEYS
I like monkeys.
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The Forever War
Pennsylvania has voted, and we are no closer to knowing who the Democrats will field in November than we were two months ago.
The pundits are saying that this is a big win for Clinton, and while it may be, a 55-45 win doesn't net her enough delegates to make much of a dent. What this does set up, though, is a situation where it is mathematically impossible for either candidate to have a sufficient majority of pledged delegates to claim the nomination going into the convention.
In short, when it comes to the question of whether Clinton or Obama should be the party's nominee, the party rank-and-file has basically said, "Beats me." Both poll strongly within their core constituencies, both pull enough support from other sources to stay viable. Odds are, they split the remaining pledged delegates right down the middle, meaning that this particular knife fight in a phone booth keeps rolling on with no signs of stopping. That is, until the blood-letting finally ends on the convention floor in Denver.
Denver. Where the unthinkable will happen: the Democratic party's super-delegates will actually have to take sides on the record and say who they're supporting. The prospect scares them spitless.
Look, I have no beef with the party's big-wigs and elected officials picking their candidate. The Democratic Party, just like the Republican Party, isn't a public instutition, it's a private club. Like any other private organization, from the Ulaanbataar Yacht Club to the local Moose Lodge, they can make, amend, or ignore any damn-fool rules they wish. I do happen to think that they have too many super-delegates to make for a manageable meeting, but that's just personal opinion. I did vote for Obama over Clinton, but otherwise, I ain't got a dog in this hunt. I'm not really emotionally invested.
But the prospect of a contested convention does pique my interest. Coronation conventions bore me. They're dull as dust. You already know what everyone's gonna say. You already know what everyone's gonna do. The only spark of interest is when they announce the VP pick. Otherwise? Yawn city. But a contested convention, on the other hand ... Rage, recriminations, and fist-fights on the convention floor make for damn good TV.
The only drawback, really, is that there are four freakin' months to go until that particular convention. Kyrie Eleaison, can we please have a shorter primary season? Please? To save what's left of my poor, tattered sanity? But no. That won't happen. The super-delegates won't come off the fence until they have to. Megan McArdle has an ongoing discussion of this issue, and I think it's a combination of her reasons (1) through (4) inclusive. Committing now is all risk and no reward.
Criminy. At this rate, we'll know who won the Tour de frickin' France before we know who won the Democratic Presidential Primary. Oh well. Nothing for it but to hunker down and wait, I suppose.
The pundits are saying that this is a big win for Clinton, and while it may be, a 55-45 win doesn't net her enough delegates to make much of a dent. What this does set up, though, is a situation where it is mathematically impossible for either candidate to have a sufficient majority of pledged delegates to claim the nomination going into the convention.
In short, when it comes to the question of whether Clinton or Obama should be the party's nominee, the party rank-and-file has basically said, "Beats me." Both poll strongly within their core constituencies, both pull enough support from other sources to stay viable. Odds are, they split the remaining pledged delegates right down the middle, meaning that this particular knife fight in a phone booth keeps rolling on with no signs of stopping. That is, until the blood-letting finally ends on the convention floor in Denver.
Denver. Where the unthinkable will happen: the Democratic party's super-delegates will actually have to take sides on the record and say who they're supporting. The prospect scares them spitless.
Look, I have no beef with the party's big-wigs and elected officials picking their candidate. The Democratic Party, just like the Republican Party, isn't a public instutition, it's a private club. Like any other private organization, from the Ulaanbataar Yacht Club to the local Moose Lodge, they can make, amend, or ignore any damn-fool rules they wish. I do happen to think that they have too many super-delegates to make for a manageable meeting, but that's just personal opinion. I did vote for Obama over Clinton, but otherwise, I ain't got a dog in this hunt. I'm not really emotionally invested.
But the prospect of a contested convention does pique my interest. Coronation conventions bore me. They're dull as dust. You already know what everyone's gonna say. You already know what everyone's gonna do. The only spark of interest is when they announce the VP pick. Otherwise? Yawn city. But a contested convention, on the other hand ... Rage, recriminations, and fist-fights on the convention floor make for damn good TV.
The only drawback, really, is that there are four freakin' months to go until that particular convention. Kyrie Eleaison, can we please have a shorter primary season? Please? To save what's left of my poor, tattered sanity? But no. That won't happen. The super-delegates won't come off the fence until they have to. Megan McArdle has an ongoing discussion of this issue, and I think it's a combination of her reasons (1) through (4) inclusive. Committing now is all risk and no reward.
Criminy. At this rate, we'll know who won the Tour de frickin' France before we know who won the Democratic Presidential Primary. Oh well. Nothing for it but to hunker down and wait, I suppose.
Huh?
OK, this item has me perplexed.
Here's a summary of the situation: The Soyuz TMA-11 capsule was returning from the International Space Station with a crew of three. The pilot -- the CNN article calls him "flight engineer", but he's a rated pilot, and besides, somebody's gotta work the stick -- was Yuri Malenchenko, along with returning ISS commander Peggy Whitson and South Korean astronaut Yi So-Yeon. But "something" went wrong during re-entry. According to the report, the capsule landed 260 miles off-target, and twenty minutes late.
Say what?
Initially, that was all I knew, and it made absolutely no sense me. Off-course I can understand, but how the purple roaring hell do you land twenty minutes late? If you're twenty minutes late firing your retros, you're not missing by 200 miles, sport, you won't even hit the right continent. And if you're only 200 miles off, it's an overshoot or undershoot, and dammit, I just couldn't figure out where you eat up twenty minutes during descent.
Until some other information came out in this report, that is. That made everything clear. No one's saying for sure, but I'm fairly certain what had to have happened. It turns out that (1) there was some heat damage to the front hatch, and (2) they experienced 8 Gs during re-entry.
"Oho," says I, "This sort of thing has happened before..." Well, sort of.
The Soyuz 5 re-entry also landed way off-course, and also experienced large re-entry forces, as a result of an unusual re-entry attitude. No mention about timing, though, which is to be expected. But, given this precedent, this is what I think happened.
One of the few flies in the ointment of an otherwise well-honed design is that the Soyuz capsule is perfectly happy flying forward during re-entry. It's an aerodynamically stable configuration. With Apollo, weight distribution trumps aerodynamics, essentially forcing it to fly butt-first during re-entry. And once you get established butt-first, the Soyuz will stay that way once it's properly spin-stabilized. But if something screws that up...
Kudos are due to Yuri Malenchenko, because he probably saved their lives. He had the training and experience to recognize the situation, and was able to act quickly enough to achieve a survivable re-entry and landing. That's fine stick-and-rudder work by anyone's standard. You, sir, are one steely-eyed missile man.
In any case, getting unstuck from their nose-first posture probably caused them to skip off the upper atmosphere briefly, altering their final descent to a much steeper profile than they had originally planned. And while eight gees aren't fun, they're easily tolerable to a fit person, even one debilitated by a long stretch of free-fall. And yeah, I can see that kind of path taking some extra time, accounting for the twenty minute delay in descent.
All in all, I'm somewhat less than shocked. Re-entry, as I've said before, is always a hand of Texas Hold-'Em with the Grim Reaper. When you do everything perfectly, you can stack your hand with aces. When you don't, well, you pays your money and you takes your chances. I'm just glad they all made it back home this time.
Here's a summary of the situation: The Soyuz TMA-11 capsule was returning from the International Space Station with a crew of three. The pilot -- the CNN article calls him "flight engineer", but he's a rated pilot, and besides, somebody's gotta work the stick -- was Yuri Malenchenko, along with returning ISS commander Peggy Whitson and South Korean astronaut Yi So-Yeon. But "something" went wrong during re-entry. According to the report, the capsule landed 260 miles off-target, and twenty minutes late.
Say what?
Initially, that was all I knew, and it made absolutely no sense me. Off-course I can understand, but how the purple roaring hell do you land twenty minutes late? If you're twenty minutes late firing your retros, you're not missing by 200 miles, sport, you won't even hit the right continent. And if you're only 200 miles off, it's an overshoot or undershoot, and dammit, I just couldn't figure out where you eat up twenty minutes during descent.
Until some other information came out in this report, that is. That made everything clear. No one's saying for sure, but I'm fairly certain what had to have happened. It turns out that (1) there was some heat damage to the front hatch, and (2) they experienced 8 Gs during re-entry.
"Oho," says I, "This sort of thing has happened before..." Well, sort of.
The Soyuz 5 re-entry also landed way off-course, and also experienced large re-entry forces, as a result of an unusual re-entry attitude. No mention about timing, though, which is to be expected. But, given this precedent, this is what I think happened.
One of the few flies in the ointment of an otherwise well-honed design is that the Soyuz capsule is perfectly happy flying forward during re-entry. It's an aerodynamically stable configuration. With Apollo, weight distribution trumps aerodynamics, essentially forcing it to fly butt-first during re-entry. And once you get established butt-first, the Soyuz will stay that way once it's properly spin-stabilized. But if something screws that up...
Kudos are due to Yuri Malenchenko, because he probably saved their lives. He had the training and experience to recognize the situation, and was able to act quickly enough to achieve a survivable re-entry and landing. That's fine stick-and-rudder work by anyone's standard. You, sir, are one steely-eyed missile man.
In any case, getting unstuck from their nose-first posture probably caused them to skip off the upper atmosphere briefly, altering their final descent to a much steeper profile than they had originally planned. And while eight gees aren't fun, they're easily tolerable to a fit person, even one debilitated by a long stretch of free-fall. And yeah, I can see that kind of path taking some extra time, accounting for the twenty minute delay in descent.
All in all, I'm somewhat less than shocked. Re-entry, as I've said before, is always a hand of Texas Hold-'Em with the Grim Reaper. When you do everything perfectly, you can stack your hand with aces. When you don't, well, you pays your money and you takes your chances. I'm just glad they all made it back home this time.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Video Del Fuego, Part V
Holy Jet-Blast, Batman!
This guy is, without a doubt, stone barking mad. But I love it. Definitely my kind of guy.
What kind of maniac bolts a jet engine into, of all things, a Dodge Caravan? Not that there's anything wrong with that...
This dude must burn through brake pads at a truly alarming rate. But what a ride!
This guy is, without a doubt, stone barking mad. But I love it. Definitely my kind of guy.
What kind of maniac bolts a jet engine into, of all things, a Dodge Caravan? Not that there's anything wrong with that...
This dude must burn through brake pads at a truly alarming rate. But what a ride!
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Video Del Fuego, Part IV
Ordinarily I have little use for the French. But whatever their other proclivities, there's nothing at all wrong with the products of Dassault. Their thunder chariots have always been first-rate. This video features a Mirage 2000 fighter, with a few guest appearances by a Dornier Alpha Jet.
Really, the worst you can say about the Mirage 2000 (or, for that matter, the Rafale) is that it's not a Raptor. But what else is?
Bonus Feature: Speaking of Raptors, if you're a Chinese military aviator, scenes like this probably loom large in your nightmares:
Really, the worst you can say about the Mirage 2000 (or, for that matter, the Rafale) is that it's not a Raptor. But what else is?
Bonus Feature: Speaking of Raptors, if you're a Chinese military aviator, scenes like this probably loom large in your nightmares:
Video Del Fuego, Part III
I haven't fallen into a rut, honest I haven't, but (a) I'm convalescing from a cold, and don't care to engage in serious thinking; and (b) I just figured out how to embed videos into blog posts. Today, Video Del Fuego lives up to its name, as we honor the Saturn V.
So far as I'm aware, the Saturn V has no nickname. Gods have no nicknames. You approach them with fear and trembling, not with easy familiarity.
This is the most powerful machine ever built by human hands:
Brief science lesson: A fast stream of fluid, like a jet or rocket's exhaust, will drag the neighboring air along with it. So, during a launch, you'll see a very brief puff of smoke at the rocket's base, then see that puff sucked back down into the exhaust channel as the thrust builds up.
Another curious thing you'll see is that the plume coming right out of the nozzle isn't as bright as the flow just downstream. There are two reasons for this. One, the nozzle itself is cooled by a flow of liquid oxygen, so the flow right next to the wall is much cooler than it would be ordinarily. Second, the fuel-oxidizer mixture has not completely burnt up yet. There's just not enough time between the thrust chamber and the end of the nozzle. It's mostly burnt, but not completely.
Musical note: This sequence was set to "Mars, the Bringer of War" from Gustav Holst's suite "The Planets". It's an appropriate piece. The business end of an F-1 engine running full-bore isn't a very friendly place to be.
Bonus double feature: the liftoff of Apollo 8.
This is about the best launch sequence I've seen from this era. You see all the important bits, all the way up through staging. Two things to look for: first, as the vehicle climbs up into the high, thin air of the upper atmosphere, the exaust plume expands. It was designed to match pressures at sea level. But as it gets higher, it's working against thinner air, and the plume expands until it reaches equilibrium. Second, when the second stage lights off, you don't see an exhaust plume. Its J-2 engines burn liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen, producing a clear flame. There's exhaust, we just can't see it.
In many ways, this was our finest hour: we built the most powerful machines ever so that we could go somewhere we'd never been, and learn something new we didn't know before.
So far as I'm aware, the Saturn V has no nickname. Gods have no nicknames. You approach them with fear and trembling, not with easy familiarity.
This is the most powerful machine ever built by human hands:
Brief science lesson: A fast stream of fluid, like a jet or rocket's exhaust, will drag the neighboring air along with it. So, during a launch, you'll see a very brief puff of smoke at the rocket's base, then see that puff sucked back down into the exhaust channel as the thrust builds up.
Another curious thing you'll see is that the plume coming right out of the nozzle isn't as bright as the flow just downstream. There are two reasons for this. One, the nozzle itself is cooled by a flow of liquid oxygen, so the flow right next to the wall is much cooler than it would be ordinarily. Second, the fuel-oxidizer mixture has not completely burnt up yet. There's just not enough time between the thrust chamber and the end of the nozzle. It's mostly burnt, but not completely.
Musical note: This sequence was set to "Mars, the Bringer of War" from Gustav Holst's suite "The Planets". It's an appropriate piece. The business end of an F-1 engine running full-bore isn't a very friendly place to be.
Bonus double feature: the liftoff of Apollo 8.
This is about the best launch sequence I've seen from this era. You see all the important bits, all the way up through staging. Two things to look for: first, as the vehicle climbs up into the high, thin air of the upper atmosphere, the exaust plume expands. It was designed to match pressures at sea level. But as it gets higher, it's working against thinner air, and the plume expands until it reaches equilibrium. Second, when the second stage lights off, you don't see an exhaust plume. Its J-2 engines burn liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen, producing a clear flame. There's exhaust, we just can't see it.
In many ways, this was our finest hour: we built the most powerful machines ever so that we could go somewhere we'd never been, and learn something new we didn't know before.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Video Del Fuego, Part II
Continuing to mine the vein of vintage thunder crates, here's a 1986 Van Halen music video featuring the Blue Angels.
The A-4 Skyhawk was a simply astonishing airshow airplane. Fast, nimble, and they can damn near fly them right on top of one another. I realize that they had lots of good reasons for switching to the F-18, starting with the fact that logistical support was getting expensive, and ending with the fact that military pilots really need to keep currency with their go-to-war airplane.
Be that as it may, I loved Heinemann's Hot Rod, and I still miss it.
The A-4 Skyhawk was a simply astonishing airshow airplane. Fast, nimble, and they can damn near fly them right on top of one another. I realize that they had lots of good reasons for switching to the F-18, starting with the fact that logistical support was getting expensive, and ending with the fact that military pilots really need to keep currency with their go-to-war airplane.
Be that as it may, I loved Heinemann's Hot Rod, and I still miss it.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Video Del Fuego, Part I
New semi-regular feature: videos from YouTube that I like. For the first entry in this series, let's get acquainted with thirty tons of angry St. Louis steel -- The McDonnell-Douglas F-4 Phantom.
The Smoking Thunderhog lives!
The Smoking Thunderhog lives!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Stupor Tuesday 2008 Post-Mortem
National Primary Day was only about 50% successful. It appears to have decided the Republican primary, but the Democratic primary is still a dead heat. Something is about to happen that I don't think I have ever experienced: the Texas primary will actually mean something, this year.
How very interesting...
I have grown accustomed to making largely symbolic votes. In every previous election that I've participated in, the party's nominee had been pretty well decided by the time I cast my vote. I was either agreeing with the sense of the voters who'd come before, or flinging a protest vote into the wind.
But not so this year, at least, provided that you're voting in the Democratic primary. (If you're a Republican and you don't like McCain, well, sucks to be you.)
Now, what exactly did Super Tuesday do? Two things, really. As I expected, it forced a down-select to a two-man Republican race. What I really didn't expect was that Romney would punch out as quickly as he did. I figured that since he had the cash to stay in, he'd hang around a bit longer. You never know, McCain might implode. He made a good case in his concession speech, though, about America needing a strong war-time President. He's done his party a huge favor, here. Huckabee isn't going to mount a serious challenge, not really. He'll show strength in the small, rural states, but probably not so much in the bigger states. He's basically making a case for VP, at this point. Which means that, even though it's still technically a two-man race, McCain would have to actively try to lose the nomination. It is still mathematically possible for him to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, but I don't think he has it in him. He can start trying to unite the party around him now, and prepare the ground for November.
This makes it a much more sporty proposition for the Democrats, who are still engaged in a two-way knife fight in a phone booth. Super Tuesday clarified exactly jack. Clinton and Obama are still locked in a tie for the national delegate count. What's interesting is that Obama took some recent wins in Maine, Louisiana, Nebraska, and Washington. Interesting, but not conclusive ... but nonetheless, Clinton is shaking up her campaign organization. You can tell a lot about the state of a struggle by looking at who is dictating the pace and tempo of the conflict. It's all about the initiative. It doesn't matter if you're talking about small-unit tactics, football, or political campaigns, the principle is still the same. As I said earlier, it's pretty clear that Obama is inside Clinton's decision cycle. Hillary is still on the Decide portion of her OODA loop, while Obama is already Orienting on his next cycle. I don't think this shake-up is going to be enough. She has to do something absolutely gob-smackingly spectacular to regain the initiative. The question is, is her campiagn sufficiently agile to make that happen?
It makes for a fascinating question. I just don't know yet. It should be interesting to find out, though.
How very interesting...
I have grown accustomed to making largely symbolic votes. In every previous election that I've participated in, the party's nominee had been pretty well decided by the time I cast my vote. I was either agreeing with the sense of the voters who'd come before, or flinging a protest vote into the wind.
But not so this year, at least, provided that you're voting in the Democratic primary. (If you're a Republican and you don't like McCain, well, sucks to be you.)
Now, what exactly did Super Tuesday do? Two things, really. As I expected, it forced a down-select to a two-man Republican race. What I really didn't expect was that Romney would punch out as quickly as he did. I figured that since he had the cash to stay in, he'd hang around a bit longer. You never know, McCain might implode. He made a good case in his concession speech, though, about America needing a strong war-time President. He's done his party a huge favor, here. Huckabee isn't going to mount a serious challenge, not really. He'll show strength in the small, rural states, but probably not so much in the bigger states. He's basically making a case for VP, at this point. Which means that, even though it's still technically a two-man race, McCain would have to actively try to lose the nomination. It is still mathematically possible for him to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, but I don't think he has it in him. He can start trying to unite the party around him now, and prepare the ground for November.
This makes it a much more sporty proposition for the Democrats, who are still engaged in a two-way knife fight in a phone booth. Super Tuesday clarified exactly jack. Clinton and Obama are still locked in a tie for the national delegate count. What's interesting is that Obama took some recent wins in Maine, Louisiana, Nebraska, and Washington. Interesting, but not conclusive ... but nonetheless, Clinton is shaking up her campaign organization. You can tell a lot about the state of a struggle by looking at who is dictating the pace and tempo of the conflict. It's all about the initiative. It doesn't matter if you're talking about small-unit tactics, football, or political campaigns, the principle is still the same. As I said earlier, it's pretty clear that Obama is inside Clinton's decision cycle. Hillary is still on the Decide portion of her OODA loop, while Obama is already Orienting on his next cycle. I don't think this shake-up is going to be enough. She has to do something absolutely gob-smackingly spectacular to regain the initiative. The question is, is her campiagn sufficiently agile to make that happen?
It makes for a fascinating question. I just don't know yet. It should be interesting to find out, though.
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