How to Make Public Transit More Appealing
July 13, 2009, 8:36 p.m. by Paul Stiverson
In the Bay Area there is a pretty reasonable system of public transit which consists of several independently operated, yet inter-connected, systems. These systems consist of trains, busses, electric bus lines, a high-speed rubber on concrete rail-type of thing (BART), and a subway in San Francisco. They connect the Bay Area nearly completely, effectively connecting each city that comprises the Bay Area. Despite the connectivity public transit is (in general) not a feasible means of travel because it can take a prohibitively long time to travel between two points. The problem is exacerbated by the independence of each system, they are pretty well coordinated, but there is always a small layover when changing systems. Let’s look at an example: traveling from where I am staying to the San Francisco Airport.
To make this trip I will board the [Caltrain](http://www.caltrain.com/) in Mountain View, the station is less than a mile from my residence so walking is not a problem. I will ride northbound until I reach the Millbrae Station where I will transfer to the [BART](http://www.bart.gov/) which I will ride to San Bruno, and change trams to finally reach SFO. By all rights this is a pretty easy system to use, only changing rides twice during the 25 mile journey. The problem is that it will take nearly an hour and a half to make the trip (with transfer times). The longest leg of the journey is on Caltrain, it is 24 miles, and it could take up to 50 minutes. The reason that it could take so long is not that the train is slow—it moves at a respectable pace—but that there are 11 stops to make along the way. There are morning and evening commuter runs that skip most of the stops cutting the transit time to just under 30 minutes, so options are available to speed up the trip, but in general there will be a great deal of time wasted stopping and starting.
The long trip duration generally makes public transit a less attractive option than driving.
Presently plans are in the works to build a [high speed rail](http://www.cahighspeedrail.ca.gov/) (~200MPH!) connecting all of California with a primary line between Los Angeles and Sacramento, and I can’t help but think that—despite the speeds—the trips could still take quite a long time because of all the stops. Reducing the number of stops would make the trip faster and therefore better, but it reduces connectivity and thus would make the system overall less appealing for the taxpayer who is paying for the initial investment. It is possible to run a skip-stop schedule, wherein certain stops are skipped at certain parts of the day, but that makes the schedule complicated and limits the robustness of the system.
The solution to this problem is not to skip stops, but instead to prevent everybody from stopping at every stop. Instead of making the entire train stop at every station, let a specified number of cars stop. Imagine the following scenario: There is a train line running between Houston and San Antonio, along the route it passes through College Station and Austin (~300 miles). The train leaves Houston with six cars and a primary engine, as the train approaches College Station the last car will separate and switch onto a deceleration track that intersects with the station. Somewhat before this a single car will depart from the College Station station on an acceleration track which will intersect with the main track. The car that left College Station will become the lead car of the main train. Likewise, as the train nears Austin two cars will separate and enter a deceleration track. Only those passengers who wish to debark need to stop, the rest of the train can keep a-rolling on down to San Antone’.[2,]
This method of operation alleviates several problems other than wasted passenger time. First it saves energy since most of the train is not stopping and starting. Second it will reduce congestion and confusion in each station, all the people who are departing will be on a train car before the people arriving from Houston even enter the station. The system will remove the need for stop-skipping and therefore reduce the number of trains that will need to be run per day. Each car will be parked at a station for some period of time during the day, and thus can easily be cleaned by a janitorial crew without having to work at night or inconvenience any travelers. Also, the train at large will not need to pass through each city along the way, thus the primary route can be optimized. Further, adding stops to the trip could be done without requiring a significant change to the overall infrastructure.
With proper engineering the cars themselves can be completely passive (with the exception of a fail-safe braking system), the track can slow the car and collect the energy of stopping with some regenerative system, that energy can then be used for accelerating the next car that will depart. A certain amount of energy will (of course) need to be added to the system to account for inefficiencies, but overall energy will be conserved. Along the primary route the engine will be able to maintain a relatively constant speed and thus its operation can be optimized as well.
This system will have its difficulties in timing and general execution, but it seems that the benefits could out-weigh the challenges. The scale of the system is really not a concern, meaning that a similar tactic could be used for area-wide transit at lower speeds so long as people have sufficient time to travel between cars to make their stop.
I welcome your comments and criticisms of the proposed.
1. I’m going to use Texas because more of my readers know the geography of Texas than California.
2. Travelling at 200mph by train the trip from Houston to San Antonio would take a little over one and a half hours (accounting for acceleration and deceleration) even with the ‘stops’ in College Station and Austin, by car on I-10 the same trip would easily take an hour more than that.
3. I bet there’s rich folks eating in a fancy dining car!
Religion in Iowa Schools
July 12, 2009, 2:38 a.m. by Paul Stiverson
There has been a recent [proposal](http://www.desmoinesregister.com/assets/pdf/D213815778.DOC) in an Iowa school district proposing to allow prayer as an option in commencement exercises, it would also call for the creation of two new elective courses: “The Bible in History and Literature,” and “Critique of Darwinism, A Scientific Approach.” The proposal would also permit teachers to answer questions about their religious beliefs, as well as allowing students to distribute religious materials. The stated purpose of the proposal is to educate about religious faith, and to promote dialog. I cannot say that I am completely opposed to such a measure, if it were enacted it could actually benefit students by allowing for real and diverse religious expression. The proposal clearly states that “[The] School will not discriminate against private religious expression,” so if there are teachers of varying religious backgrounds then it could elucidate the fact that not everybody is a Christian, and it could give refuge to students who are exploring or questioning their own religious beliefs. The proposal would also allow distribution of dissenting literature thus allowing students to inform their classmates about other religions.
Some other folks have said that this proposal is a thinly veiled attempt at thrusting the Christian notion of god back at the fragile and impressionable minds of our youth, complaining that the district is not calling for the creation of any other “The [religious text] in History and Literature” classes. I do agree with them that the classes being added are somewhat one sided, but I don’t think that the critics have considered all aspects of the proposal. The proposal is very clear in its anti-discrimination verbiage, so—while there might not be any classes—there _will_ be discussion of the spiritual alternatives to Christianity. If the proposal is intended as an endorsement of Christianity (I certainly believe this is the case), then it will backfire the first time a student hands out anti-Christian (or non pro-Christian) literature. Handing out this literature—or the refusal to allow it to be distributed—could spark a debate of a much larger scope than just the district. If this proposal is just an attempt to re-enroll god in Iowa schools (if it should pass) then it will quickly be found out and eradicated, but not without shining a national spotlight on how not-far we have come since Scopes. If the proposal’s intentions are true then it is a positive step.
I hope the proposal does pass, and I hope that there are non-Christians who are ready to walk through the flames—so to speak—to endorse their beliefs. If there are then the debate on religion in the public sphere might finally be coming to a head, and the public discourse on religion could get very interesting in the next few months.
July 10, 2009, 1:17 p.m. by Lew
[I saw this and I thought of paul.](http://www.ideaconnection.com/blog/2009/07/key-keyring-combo/) this matters.
Texans for Kinky
July 9, 2009, 9:27 a.m. by Paul Stiverson
Those of you who know me personally know that I was an ardent supporter of Kinky Friedman during his run for Governor of the great state of Texas in 2006. He was running as an independent, and he came in dead last. He has [announced](http://www.texansforkinky.com/blog/?p=86) that he plans to run in the upcoming gubernatorial election, but this time as a Democrat, which I think is where he should be to offset some goober like Chris Bell from stepping in and not even trying to run a campaign against Rick Perry (as happened in ’06).
I believed then, as I do now, that our state needs somebody like Kinky in the Governor’s Mansion. We need Kinky because he is not from the political institution, and he can break up the cronyism that has plagued our government for the last decade. In these tough times we need somebody who will actually stand up for the working poor and offer them the support (not necessarily monetary) that they need. We need somebody who will place education in the forefront and pull us up from the bottom 5% in education quality. We need somebody who will re-instate funding for those who care for the mentally and physically handicapped. We need somebody who will speak for needs of every Texan. We need a rebel to bring back the international glory and mystique that Texas once held.
Don’t get me wrong, I think he was better as an Independent, but he can win as a Democrat. Afterall, it isn’t the label that is important, it is the man. And, friends, Kinky is the man for this time and place.
You’re out of time.
July 8, 2009, 9:34 a.m. by Paul Stiverson
Unless you have been inhabiting a small crevasse under a large rock you have surely heard, over and over again, that Michael Jackson (a rather famous pop singer!) has died. Upon hearing the news I must say that I was not entirely surprised or grief-stricken, but I did fully expect to be bludgeoned from every media outlet for at least three days. Boy, was I wrong. For the last twelve days I have not been able to turn on a television without hearing at least some mention of the death of the king of pop. If not about the details surrounding his death, than about his links to other celebrities (or pseudo-celebrities), or his will and who will care for his children. Most recently MSNBC has pre-empted their evening programming to show the public memorial service from the Staples Center in Los Angeles. While I fully admit that Michael Jackson was an American pop-culture icon I cannot fathom that he should deserve to so fully dominate the news cycle. I can only think of one reason why he should, and it is quite… sinister.
I claim that the only way that MJ could so receive so much attention is if at least one major news outlet is in on a conspiracy to fake Michael Jackson’s death. The reason for this fakery is necessary is for a major comeback scheme that MJ himself masterminded over 25 years ago. That’s right, in about a month CNN or some other outlet will take a shortcut through the cemetery that holds Jackson’s grave, illustrating how many people are making the pilgrimage to see his final resting place when the unimaginable, nay, the impossible will happen.
ZOMBIE DANCE PARTY!
We are all fighting for our lives inside a killer thriller tonight. You will be missed, Michael.
Paul’s Psycho Theater (Part 2)
July 1, 2009, 8:38 a.m. by Paul Stiverson
A bunch of other interns and I were wanting to go to this event, a speech of some sort honoring some guy. The speech was taking place down toward San Jose, about 12 miles away from where we all were. Despite the fact that I have a car we decided that it would be fun to “Borrow” the keynote speaker’s RV to get to the speech. We found it and broke in, but as soon as we started driving we were found out by the cops who started chasing us immediately. Thankfully we were better drivers than they (somehow we knew all the roads really well and traffic wasn’t a problem), and we made it to the event unscathed. Evading the cops was really way too easy, it was like running from the cops in GTA (1.5~2.5 star level), but their cars were slower than our RV. I’m not really sure what or where this event was, but it took place in a lecture hall sort of place, think Blocker 102, but longer. We were seated near the back, and inexplicably the speaker was seated back there as well, he was actually planning on delivering the speech from the back. It was a clever ruse, lets see if it works out for him.
The speech started with something of an introduction where the guy’s credentials were delivered, I remember clearly that he did his undergraduate work at Berkeley, and his graduate work at Stanford. Toward the end of the introduction I made some smart-ass remark, and the speaker—being seated the row behind me—heard and was taken aback. He decided to punish me by making me introduce him, I simply recited the previous introduction, but was tripped up on a few details. I was really trying very hard to remember all his bona fides (and make all the same jokes as the unseen speaker), but drew a blank on a few minor details. The speech ended pretty abruptly after that and we all headed outside.
As we left the lecture hall (I remember talking to another intern about the speaker having done his undergrad at Berkeley and his graduate work at Stanford, but it took me 3 tries to say it right) I suggested that we distance ourselves from the quote-unquote Scene of the Crime, also known as the RV we had previously stolen. My cohorts looked over the area and decided that there were no cops about, despite the fact that stereotypical swat and surveillance vans were circling the area. I decided I wanted nothing to do with their foolishness and that I would find my own ride home rather than go to jail. As I walked away from them I saw them open the RV door and lo, cops come piling out arresting them all immediately. One of my fellow interns immediately cracks, and I see him point at me, I think to myself “Oh shit, I’m fucked” and start signaling to other people as if I know them. A cop walks up to me and asks me to step aside with him to answer some questions. At this point I realize that I am carrying a green army laundry bag over my shoulder and that I certainly look suspicious, I also realize that I need to crap really badly.
I asked the cops if they were going to detain me, they said no, I ask them if I’m free to go, and they say no. Seemed like a contradiction. I told them that I really had to poop, and that I remembered there being a public restroom nearby. The let me leave to crap on my promise to return immediately, I left my duffel bag with them because I really didn’t feel like carrying it anymore. As I walked away I told them, that is still my property, and it would still be a violation of my Fourth Amendment rights if you searched it without my permission—apparently I’m a lawyer in my sleep. I scampered in the direction of the bathroom. What I found was the weirdest part of my dream, and I someday have to build it. (If you are still reading then this next paragraph is your reward)
The bathroom that I found was really more like a locker-room for giants. It was about half the size of a city block, and it had all sorts of high-school locker room types of stuff, but at a ridiculous scale. I found the stalls, they were 15ft tall and blue, the bluest blue I had ever seen. Also the stalls were about 100ft long and 20ft wide, I opened the absurdly sized door and made my way down the long corridor to the most amazingly convoluted toilet I have ever conceived of. Let me see if I can adequately describe it: There was a big blue cube, it was taller than me, but when I jumped up I could see the hole (where the poop goes). From this blue cube two arms extended (toward the door), they were hinged to the cube, and they had an elbow in the middle. At the end of the arm there was a stainless steel seat (3ft, square), but notably there was no hole in the seat (for the poop to fall through). Below the seat there was a foot-rest, or perhaps it was a stirrup (where your feet would go while you poop). I think that you were supposed to sit on the seat (which would have been a feat considering it was at shoulder height), which then moved you into position over the toilet tank over which you poop. Bizarre design, but intriguing. (In case the description didn’t work for you there is a drawing below) [The more I think about it the more I think it was a trap. If I had sat on the seat it would have just dropped me into the shit-hole. I’m really glad I decided against it.]
Needless to say there was no way for me to poop anywhere in that bathroom, so I needed to venture further into the unknown to find a place to poop, I saw a mall down the street and headed for it. It is well past midnight at this point so there is nothing open, but I manage to get inside the mall and begin fruitlessly looking for a toilet. I’m not sure how long I wandered around the mall, but it was a while. When I finally exited I was carrying shopping bags: paper in my left hand, plastic in my right. There had to have been 50lbs of stuff in those bags, but I wasn’t really sure what that stuff might have been. I walked through the parking lot, still looking for a toilet, but slightly concerned that the cops would be looking for me by now and thinking that I should probably get back to where I had left them (so I could collect my duffel bag).
I saw a convertible driving toward me, in it were two ladies. When it pulled up beside me I realized that there were two more ladies crammed in behind the front row of seats. I asked them where the theater was (that is where the speech was held apparently), and they didn’t know. The did describe—in great detail—the political dealings of the area, about how the director of Ames was lobbying for blah, blah, blah. I asked them where I might find a bathroom and they prattled on about nothing useful or interesting (typical womanly behavior, am I right? HIGH FIVE!). I decided to take my leave of them, which my mind mistook for wanting to wake up. Lying in bed I realized that I really did have to (and still do need to) poop.
I’ll see you in the next installment of Paul’s Psycho Theater.
June 27, 2009, 9:49 p.m. by Paul Stiverson
This morning I had the most vivid and immersive dream of my life (It even had sub-plots).
My sister, Carin, and I were at a family reunion sort of thing that was taking place in a huge community center sort of place which had all sorts of amusements and large (grassy) open areas while still being indoors. All the extended family was there. At one point Carin, having been there before and knowing all the cool stuff about the building, suggested that we take this elevator to a different level of the facility. We hit the call button, waited, and got on. I expected the elevator to go straight up, what with having ridden in an elevator before, but after going up for a few seconds it started spiraling. The elevator was fully enclosed (no windowed wall) but we could feel the acceleration of it spinning and gyrating, after what seemed like a long time on the elevator—which had only two buttons on the inside, one for the first floor and one for the sixth—I realized that we hadn’t hit a the button for our desired floor which I assumed would have been six. I moved over to the buttons and started to press the only button other than the one representing the floor we had just left, but Carin moved in to stop me, saying that if we press it to early they won’t let us up there. We stood by the buttons for a while and all at once I knew the timing was right, she confirmed my hypothesis by shouting “NOW” as I pushed the button.
At the onset of the dream I was wearing what I thought was my grey suit with all the regular accoutrements (I spelled that right on the first try), as we were getting on the elevator I noticed that the cuff on my left suit sleeve was all fucked up and set out to try to fix it. After futzing with the cuff for what seemed like minutes I realized that this suit didn’t used to have cuffs at the arms and was suddenly quite confused, I looked at the other arm and realized that it had a cuff and was put at ease. Observing the other cuff allowed me to fold the left cuff the way it was supposed to be, but for some reason re-folding it caused the sleeve to cinch up and it became very tight around my wrist. This was when I realized the elevator button had not been pushed.
As the elevator dinged and screeched to a stop Carin told me that we would have to run or else they would kick us out. When the doors opened we sprung into action and ran like hell, I was following Carin because I had no idea where we were or where we were going. I did hear shouts of people saying “You’re not supposed to be here,” who quickly followed in chase. We were running very fast, like five times faster then I could possibly run in real life, but the girl who was chasing us was moving about two times faster than us. The girl that caught us was wearing a cocktail dress and three inch heels, I was embarrassed to be caught by a girl in heels, but incredibly impressed that she could run so quickly in those shoes. Two other scantily-clad girls moved in to surround us. They scolded us saying “Only famous scientists and literates are allowed up here, do you fit that category?” As I looked around I realized that there were a bunch of professor-looking types with suede sleeved jackets milling around talking about non-sense. We protested as they lead us toward the exit, which was the trippiest staircase I had ever seen.
This staircase was our punishment in a way, it was like a spaghetti bowl maze of spiraling staircases different noodles that split off, combined, dead-ended, submerged in water, and did all sorts of crazy things. The stairs were also not limited to going just downward, they would swoop up and down at different areas, it truly was a three dimensional maze (also, I someday have to build one of these). We began descending the stairs and after a while of trying to find our way we got separated on two different stairwells, but both had the same idea to escape back up to the sixth floor, we started jumping rails onto different stairwells that we had observed might lead us back up there. The three girls, who had been watching us descend, quickly caught on to our plan and began to chase us again. During the chase I was dead-ended by a watery stairwell and had to jump from handrail to handrail to get to a different set of stairs, but I slipped. Thankfully I caught myself, but my shoes had gotten water-logged. The chase continued. I approached another watery part but this time realized that if I crab-walked on the handrails that I could make it without getting too wet, so I did, but alas I slipped again and my whole backside got wet. I made it through, but the girls with their superior speed and knowledge of the layout caught us both and forced us back up the stairs to the sixth level. They didn’t say where they were taking us, but it seemed sinister. Two of the pretty guard girls had somewhere to be, but they said they would catch up to us and help with the escort, thus leaving us alone with only one of the guards. We all walked to our common unknown destination, and along the way we got to talking.
During the walk I looked down to assess the damage to my clothing, nothing serious. I did notice that my suit was not the grey suit I thought it was, but instead a bluish-grey thing with light green trim, it was a bad-ass leisure-suit from the ’70s.
After a while of walking we bonded with our captor and she eventually passed us a flask after she took a swig. She wasn’t carrying a purse, and I was confused about where she had pulled that flask from, but thought it best not to ask. When I looked at the surroundings for potential escape routes I realized that we had entered a sort of suburban neighborhood with quaint little fenced-in houses (still indoors mind you). Carin and I had the same idea and escaped to one of the fenced-in areas, and the guard followed us, but wasn’t chasing us… she had joined our band and was going to help us evade the other guards who were surely fast approaching. They were, and they caught us quickly, but not before I could wake up and realize that it was all an incredibly bizarre dream.
obama and the gays
June 24, 2009, 1:15 a.m. by Lew
i am a bit bothered by obama's reluctance to take up equal rights for homosexuals. he recently asked the supreme court to not take up a case challenging "don't ask don't tell." he has not been an activist on gay rights in these first months of his administation. he made some effort by expanding rights to gay federal workers within the limits of current legislation. i am guessing/hoping he is biding his time and not avoiding gay issues. i am thinking that he knows how contentious gay rights legislation is going to be and he isn't going to risk other important issues like health care by taking up gay rights now. i don't like it but i think that is what he is doing and he is probably right. he is smart and i still trust him, but he is losing the faith of his glbt supporters.
June 19, 2009, 9:31 a.m. by Paul Stiverson
There is an epidemic, nay a pandemic, spreading like wildfire across the globe, I speak of twitter: the blue menace.
“But Paul, why do you hate Twitter so much? You, yourself, keep a blog (as is evidenced by this bullshit post), how could you be so vehemently opposed to the notion of rapid-fire short and essentially meaningless online communication?”
Well, gentle reader, I’m glad you ask. The reason Twitter’s proliferation offends me so is because it perpetuates and even necessitates the bastardization of our language. Or to put it differently: “bcuz it kills r words”. With their 140 character limit they make it impossible to formulate and convey a coherent thought, to even try requires a loose understanding of phonics. There are those who claim that spelling, grammar, and usage are unimportant so long as the reader understands the central meaning of the text. If that were the case then why did we, as a species, progress past grunting and pointing at our genitals? (I suppose not all of us have, looking at you Long Island) Could it be because simple communication lacks the nuance that allows us to express complex or abstract ideas?
It was perfectly acceptable when this mode of communication was primarily employed by teenybopper girls and potheads who think they are blowing their readers’ minds, but when legitimate news outlets (the legitimacy of CNN is sadly dwindling at the speed of light) are using Twitter as a means of news gathering then it has gone too far, it is too mainstream. It must be stopped before irreparable damage is done to our common language.
June 13, 2009, 11:58 p.m. by Lew
this post is about bullshit. i may have written about this before. i [try] to prefer honesty and sincerity in place of b.s.. i have three particular examples that are really bugging me. gun lovers who try to make the issue about constitutional rights and potheads who make the issue about fibers. if you love guns or pot it is fine enjoy your guns and weed. don't talk about the right to bare arms if you aren't going to shout from the roof every time there is a slight against the constitution. and if you love paper and rope so much there are probably fibers even better than hemp. just be honest. say you love guns and weed or whatever. don't b.s. me.