Private Submarines Versus Personal Dirigibles: Discuss
Noting from the Anchorage Daily News this morning that Mr. Charles Wohlforth is releasing his "as told to" book on Dave Rose, who was a primary driver for the Alaska Permanent Fund, I think this is an appropriate moment to discuss a topic of primary importance. But first we should offer congratulations on the book release to Mr. Wohlforth, author of such famous books as "The Whale and Supercomputer," Frommer's Alaska 2007, " "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Limpets" (and of course the movie version), "The Nastiest Stripper" (the novelization of the upcoming Discovery Channel Alaska reality series), and an early collection of metaphorical poetry, "Snap!- I Clear the Car Window with a Sammy Hagar Cassette."
Let's say us former and present Alaskans sued the state for investing our tax money from the 70s and 80s money in something other than bottled water futures and then won $100 mil in the settlement.
Then we would face a stark choice: buy a personal submarine, or a personal blimp?
One allows stately travel through the skies, and a more enjoyable commute time with a slight risk of crashing in a way amusing to others. One opens the wonders of the deep. Which is better?
posted by JAB at 9:45 AM
2 Comments:
Well, a big hurrah! for the new book. I appreciate that Wohlforth has resisted the temptation to "sex up" the history of the permanent fund. (Though, I ask: would it have killed him?)
Sign me up for personal airship, please. I'm somewhat claustrophobic, and the submarine has always struck me as a "sneaky" invention.
I wasted a significant of my teenage hours considering the possibilities of turning a high pressure propane tank into a rudimentary submarine; sketches and bad math included. I was obsessed with early submarines, like the Turtle, and the later ones that rolled along the sea bottom on big wooden wheels. I'm still toying with my Left-Wing anti-Clancy-esque submarine novel.
But I think now that a personal dirigible may be the way to go. Flying quiet and slow, and yet in a direction, seems very appealing. But hand me a submarine and I'm on the fence. Or under it.
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