Still “On Fire”

I commented the other day on how handy it is to use a stylus with the Kindle Fire, how easy it is to make styli and even briefly described a couple I made for use on the Fire (see update below).

Yep, they all work very well, but… the very (very) nice leather case my Wonder Woman got for me (yes, she was in cahoots with Son&Heir) for the Fire had no good place to store any of he styli I have. Darn. Oh, well, a rubber band sort of “solved” the issue, even if it did look kinda kuldgey. But wait! What’s this? A faux leather zipper case for a mini “legal pad” note pad? Let’s see…

Yep, the notepad switches over to the left side OK. Five lil hook-and-loop (Velcro-type) adhesive-backed “dot” fasteners and… Kindle Fire installed, the nicest of the pen/styli in the storage loop for a pen. Zip up. Secure. Open. Shake the contraption (over my lap). Secure.

Removed the Fire. The hook fastener dots stayed where they should (inside the lil zipper case), as did the loop fastener dots on the Fire, and the Fire reinstalled in the slightly more compact leather case w/o any problems.

Now, I have two different padded cases for the device, each of which work very well. Oh, the cost of the lil faux leather zipper case? $1.00, including the notepad, plus maybe $0.50 for the lil hook-and-loop dots used.

It’s coming together. So far, I use the Fire for

reading eBooks (of course)
watching videos (TV shows, movies)
listening to mp3s
browsing the web (light use)
reading and answering email (light use)
carpentry (!–the lil android bubble level app!)

And a few other things. I’ve not yet used it as I used to use my old Palm M500, for note taking, shopping and to-do lists, and as an addressbook simply because, while it is a small form factor, it’s not small enough to fit in any pockets except on one heavy winter coat I own. That might change if I find a convenient way to safely carry it around with me, but then again it might not. we’ll see.


UPDATE: “easy to make”? Way easy. Just now made another one from an old Saitek lighted stylus (dead batteries) for my (now dead) Palm M500. Removed the plastic point. Cut a thin strip of conductive foam padding. Folded the foam strip and sorta screwed it in where the tip once went. Cut a piece of aluminum tape and wrapped a small portion of the foam strip and the metal body of the stylus together and… new stylus for my capacitive touchscreen. Very nice. Smaller tip than any of the others so far, too, which makes hitting the lil tools icon all the easier.

🙂

“Through a glass darkly… “

In case the source of the post title or the King James English is a puzzle to some, here’s a quote (and reference to the context) and brief commentary before I get to the substance–whatever there may be–of this post:

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. From 1Corinthians 13

Of course, the “glass” seen “through… darkly” referred to above is a mirror. The “through” instead of “in” (as we would have it today) reflects both changes in language and a particular view of the world–and mirrors ion particular–common for millennia up through at least the time of the court of King James, a view common enough even in the 19th Century to make Lewis Carroll’s use of it immediately accessible to his readers. The “darkly” is a common (in the day) reference to a cloudy mirror whose silvering has become delaminated or tarnished, reflecting *cough* the Greek passage’s reference to a tarnished mirror made of polished metal.

So, “Through a glass darkly” refers to an imperfect reflection of reality.

Simple, right? It ought to be obvious from context, but many people seem today to make the silly assumption that it refers to looking through a window in some manner.

Sidebar: I view anyone who cannot read and grasp the language of the KJV Bible or Shakespeare’s plays and poems in (close to*) Shakespeare’s language to be at best semi-literate. At best. These two bodies of work are simply the best literature in the English language and worthy of being grasped on their own terms.

Now, to whatever scraps of meat there may be in this post.

I was treated this AM to a brief glimpse–on two levels, which led to more that aren’t germane to this post–into the meaning of this excerpt from the famous Pauline passage. First, from this post at Ann Althouse’s blog (go ahead and read it for context if you will), two comments:

Oh, and by the way, as you sit at your COMPUTER to read this, remember what conditions it was produced under & think again about those evil, slave-holding, cotton producing, antebellum Southerners.

That’s you in the mirror.

And

Your computer comes with a mirror?

Strangely, the computer I was sitting at when I read the second comment was–dimmly–acting as a mirror. A 15.6″ glossy notebook screen in a room well-lit by direct sunlight? Mirror. *sigh*

And yes, I could see the semi-validity of the first comment, although the commenter’s analogy was seriously flawed. I’m more in the position of those (often British and Northern) consumers who wore cotton clothing made from slave-produced cotton exported for manufacture into other goods than the position of a slave-owning Antebellum Southerner (of whom the South had relatively few compared to its general population of free persons).

Yes, I benefit from the “Made by slave labor in China” effect, though the computer I was having my face reflected by was not produced with very many “made in China” parts and pretty much contained only a few materials derived from Chinese slave labor–mostly the rare earths materials exported by China and used in products used in America primarily because the “feddle gummint” makes mining and refining our own resources prohibitively expensive.

Still, what are my choices?

Well, at least I won’t be buying any Apple products. *heh*


*OK, so what’s the deal with “Shakespeare’s plays and poems in (close to*) Shakespeare’s language”? Simple. We have editions of Shakespeare’s plays which may or may not reflect accurately what was originally written, and though we have substantial evidence of Shakespeare’s work to go by, even less evidence of his actual work than we have textual evidence concerning differing versions of biblical works. “Close to” is good enough, though, to let us benefit from the richness of Shakespeare’s work, regardless of who the author was (another can of worms that doesn’t matter any more than it matters “which” Homer–if any–wrote Odysseus *heh*).