A Sunday twiddle.
From a place where E does not equal MC, let alone get squared.
Time; a queer, quirky concept and highly subjective. Not the Einstein version, but an individual concept of time, which can vary so much it defies science. The amount of time a traffic light takes to change is in direct ratio to how much of a hurry you are in, when there’s a queue for the loo and you are busting: the relative ‘time’ can stretch to a concept of infinity; yet other routine matters of daily life can whiz by so fast, you scarcely notice the moments.
Then there are the diverse forms of time; the politicians versions where decades pass before outdated infrastructure projects achieve their goals, where the passing of law can take years – or moments. Then there’s the time taken to have anything the politicians manage to produce blossom into fruition. A strange dimension.
The politicians edicts must then enter an entirely new time dimension, that of the bureaucrat. In this realm time is such a malleable commodity it defies any science or logic known to mankind.
The ‘new’ regulations for aviation are yet another great mystery of the time continuum; they, more than perhaps any other perfectly reflect the parallel universes they must pass through before they end up sat on my desk wearing pencil marks, side notes, crumbs and coffee mug rings. I look at this incredible pile of paper with the innocuous title ‘Part 61’ and wonder at it’s passage from conception to where the cat has parked, atop a nine inch high pile of A4. To transmogrify the time spent in that passage of time into dollars and sense defies my best efforts. The dollars I can roughly estimate, but of estimating the ‘sense’ and the reasons why this pile of paper is sat on my desk is totally and completely beyond my humble capacity for comprehension. Indeed, with my least jaundiced pair of rose tinted glasses I can find little worthy of the time and money spent in it’s production.
This abomination has now entered the time realm of the real world of aviation; where time and resources are measured on a different scale; a scale with some sense of urgency and an appreciation of cost. When this thing was floating through the various stages of gestation, travelling on tax payer money at a bureaucratic leisurely pace, it was inert and therefore harmless. Once pupped and weened the beast began it’s campaign for life in a vastly different world. Once it became law and went live the bad habits it was raised with begin to show up; more time and more money needed to reform the beast. The industry owners, quite rightly, have taken the thing back from whence it came and demanded that the breeder refund or reform the bastard of the litter. So, provided the new owners can stand the cost and spare the time, more money, time and effort will be spent to ‘correct’ the errant mongrel. Sensible folk with little time or money to waste would cut their losses, cut it’s throat, drop it down a deep hole and find another.
But this is not the Australian way; the solution is to develop a new time dimension; that of ‘transition’, a kind of limbo state, where ‘tiger teams’ attempt correction and lawyers desperately try to avoid the conflicts while retaining absolute power without any responsibility.
It’s a royal buggers muddle; meanwhile back in real time, industry must rely on patience, forbearance and a low profile, hoping that they are not accidently breaching some strict liability clause, tucked away at the bottom of a paragraph, over the page which could, in the right circumstances, end their days of productive time.
It is time to end this farce – OST insists that we must have a rule set; OK, adopt FAA or NZ rules and before they start screaming “it can’t be done” tell ‘em that “yes you can”. Then use those as an interim (two, probably five years) transition period until the fools, sat on their ridiculous hats in Sleepy Hollow catch up with the rest of world. Won’t take long, just another two or three decades.
Aye well; that’s a Sunday load off; now I’ll go visit ET in the third dimension where time and motion are strictly controlled on a rational basis.
Warp speed thanks GD; lets get the cluck off planet and find some sanity.
Toot toot.
From a place where E does not equal MC, let alone get squared.
Time; a queer, quirky concept and highly subjective. Not the Einstein version, but an individual concept of time, which can vary so much it defies science. The amount of time a traffic light takes to change is in direct ratio to how much of a hurry you are in, when there’s a queue for the loo and you are busting: the relative ‘time’ can stretch to a concept of infinity; yet other routine matters of daily life can whiz by so fast, you scarcely notice the moments.
Then there are the diverse forms of time; the politicians versions where decades pass before outdated infrastructure projects achieve their goals, where the passing of law can take years – or moments. Then there’s the time taken to have anything the politicians manage to produce blossom into fruition. A strange dimension.
The politicians edicts must then enter an entirely new time dimension, that of the bureaucrat. In this realm time is such a malleable commodity it defies any science or logic known to mankind.
The ‘new’ regulations for aviation are yet another great mystery of the time continuum; they, more than perhaps any other perfectly reflect the parallel universes they must pass through before they end up sat on my desk wearing pencil marks, side notes, crumbs and coffee mug rings. I look at this incredible pile of paper with the innocuous title ‘Part 61’ and wonder at it’s passage from conception to where the cat has parked, atop a nine inch high pile of A4. To transmogrify the time spent in that passage of time into dollars and sense defies my best efforts. The dollars I can roughly estimate, but of estimating the ‘sense’ and the reasons why this pile of paper is sat on my desk is totally and completely beyond my humble capacity for comprehension. Indeed, with my least jaundiced pair of rose tinted glasses I can find little worthy of the time and money spent in it’s production.
This abomination has now entered the time realm of the real world of aviation; where time and resources are measured on a different scale; a scale with some sense of urgency and an appreciation of cost. When this thing was floating through the various stages of gestation, travelling on tax payer money at a bureaucratic leisurely pace, it was inert and therefore harmless. Once pupped and weened the beast began it’s campaign for life in a vastly different world. Once it became law and went live the bad habits it was raised with begin to show up; more time and more money needed to reform the beast. The industry owners, quite rightly, have taken the thing back from whence it came and demanded that the breeder refund or reform the bastard of the litter. So, provided the new owners can stand the cost and spare the time, more money, time and effort will be spent to ‘correct’ the errant mongrel. Sensible folk with little time or money to waste would cut their losses, cut it’s throat, drop it down a deep hole and find another.
But this is not the Australian way; the solution is to develop a new time dimension; that of ‘transition’, a kind of limbo state, where ‘tiger teams’ attempt correction and lawyers desperately try to avoid the conflicts while retaining absolute power without any responsibility.
It’s a royal buggers muddle; meanwhile back in real time, industry must rely on patience, forbearance and a low profile, hoping that they are not accidently breaching some strict liability clause, tucked away at the bottom of a paragraph, over the page which could, in the right circumstances, end their days of productive time.
It is time to end this farce – OST insists that we must have a rule set; OK, adopt FAA or NZ rules and before they start screaming “it can’t be done” tell ‘em that “yes you can”. Then use those as an interim (two, probably five years) transition period until the fools, sat on their ridiculous hats in Sleepy Hollow catch up with the rest of world. Won’t take long, just another two or three decades.
Aye well; that’s a Sunday load off; now I’ll go visit ET in the third dimension where time and motion are strictly controlled on a rational basis.
Warp speed thanks GD; lets get the cluck off planet and find some sanity.
Quote:“Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”
Toot toot.