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6 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

A dobro sad, ovo je vec potpuno druga tema. Kod tesle se sjebao kod gomile stvari (robitika prvo), ja sam bio iznenadjen sta su sve na kraju "manuelno" radili. Ali ide to polako.. ono sto je def uradio je da je, ako ne sam stvorio a ono ozbiljno pogurao iubrzao stvaranje jednog citavog trzista. Cuj kad se ukljuce, pa evo krece ludnica sa baterijama, nicu i planiraju se fabrike tamo vamo.. evropski automotive (za azijski da ne pricam) je ozbiljno aktivan na tom polju, hoces automobile, hoces kamione.. itd. A nije bas da su drage volje, jer je high risk/low margin industrija (nije bas da guraju, vise su nekako pulled ;) ) A opet, skoro pa mozes da kazes da je to to, its happening, elektricni automobili su tu, iza coska. Jbg, da nije tesle koja je tu pocela da ljulja brod ne bi to jos.. 

Tako kao sto kazes, slazem se, ali mislim da je Muskova uloga u proboju elektroautomobila bila vise upravo u njegovoj medijskoj eksponazi nego u stvarnim dometima, mada - sto jes-jes, zaljuljao je camac i sigurno ubrzao stvari: ali, to ipak nije inzenjerija :) 

Ali, siguran sam, elektroauto je bio iza coska i bez njega.

10 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

A i ta analogija sa softverskim startapima nekako implicira brze pare i prekonocni uspeh (sto je, usput, zabluda, ali ok), a on covek bas ne izgleda i ne dela kao da mu je to primarni motiv. 

Nisam niposto hteo da omalovazim softveraj ili da dizem onu stvar na prekonocne uspehe i ostale urbane legende: radi se o civilizacijskom pomaku cijeg dometa jos nismo ni svesni, hteo sam samo da skrenem paznju na jaz, problem nastao uslovnim zapostavljanjem aj da kazem klasicnih industrija, ono sto ja zovem pucvalom.

I tu vidim osnovni Muskov nedostatak, promasaj: klasicni raketni motor, primera radi, naprava je koja, prakticno bez bitnih izmena, uspesno radi jos od, recimo, V2 rakete.

On je kao resenje dostigao svoj zenit, izneo nas u orbitu i nema te mudrolije koja ce od njega - ovakav kakav je - da napravi napravu koja ce covecanstvo da odveze na Mars recimo.

Obaska sto ih se danas u svetu proizvodi dobrih 50 - 100 brendovatm sa sve malim debelim na zacelju.

Zato mi je Space X zasmrdeo na softversko startapovanje u onom stereotipnom smislu da se na brzinu uzmu pare: to nece da moze, a inzenjerska vizija i ostvarenje istinski revolucionarnog svemirskog pogona je jos daleko i mislim da Musk nije igrac te lige.

Stvar sa pogonom je toliko zajebana da doduse ni drzave, cak i one najrazvijenije, nisu.

18 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

Uporan je kao vo. Sad sto mavericks nisu obicno razumni ljudi, to je nesto drugo. 

Ovaj deo postujem.

I kao osobinu i kao motiv.

 

20 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

Mjslim vidi, meni se stvarno jebe za Elona, i naravno da covek nije nikakav genije (pogotovo ne jebeni Tesla, ta vremena su prosla) ali sa druge strane odbijati coveka da nazoves inzenjerom je vec malo budalasto. 

Ma neka je inzenjer :D

Ко zna, mozda ja ne umem da prepoznam inzenjersko vizionarstvo 21. veka.

Meni licno, iz nekoliko zakacenih fragmenata, niti je simpatican, niti mi deluje kao materijal za vizionara, barem ne onakvog o kakvima smo do sada imali prilike da ucimo u skoli.

A brt, previse je i kapitalistatm i to u ne bas dobrom smislu, barem sudeci po onom sto se prica :D 

 

 

26 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

@pucval

E da, i kako je na kraju, nikako da vas povatam, jel pucval ili pucvala? Cuo sam i jedno i drugo i trece.

Ja sam u skorasnjoj raspravi na temu zagovarao oblik пуцвалд.

Medjutim, preovladala je boldovana varijanta :D 

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Kod nas u nekadašnjim A-U krajevima se pucval (od nemackog putzwolle, jakako) kaže i pucola, od mađarskog pucoló - "čistač" (u smislu ono što se koristi za čišćenje, ne osoba koja čisti). Doduše, i ta sama reč pucolni / čistiti je više neki arhaični sleng od nemačkog / jidiškog putz, oriđiđi mađarski bi bilo tisztitó. Tako da najverovatnije nema jedan ispravan način da se kaže već kako gde od kraja do kraja.

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Kratka reportaža iz budućnosti o marsovskom inženjeru, rokabili guruu, i spasiocu ljudske rase.

 



HEART OF FARKNESS
by Matt Christman

 

Cupertino, shit. I’m still only in Cupertino. Stuck in an Airbnb for a week now, surrounded by Steve Jobs biographies, waiting for a mission, getting softer. Every minute I stay in this solarium, I get weaker. And every minute the trolls are out there online disparaging think-o-vators, they get stronger. Every time I look around the room, the whimsical steampunk wall sconces move in a little tighter.
I want a mission, and for my sins they give me one. Two young guys steam-ironed like Mormon missionaries bring it to me like a Trycaviar.com order.
“Colonel Willard of Bravo Battalion, l337th Squadron? Assigned to Hater Operations?” one of them says.
I blow vape into his face. “What are the charges? Are you here about that homeless encampment I napalmed?”
“No charges, sir. You’re to come with us to the Visioneer Coworker Space in Palo Alto.”
They take me to a clear plastic cube on the Google campus.
Three executives rocking on stability balls look at my digital file on their e-tablets.
“According to this, you assassinated the head of the Bay Area Tenant League with a blowgun. Impressive,” says one of the nerds, adjusting his graphic necktie that assured me that the cake was, in fact, a lie.
“I don’t know anything about that, sir.”
“Don’t know,” he mumbled. “Well, I bet you know Elon Musk, right?”
“Of course. Tesla. Boring Company. SpaceX. MarsCo. But he’s been out of touch ever since the launch.” 
“That’s what we told the public. What we didn’t tell them is that two years after he took off for Mars, we received this message. It was bouncing around in space between a bunch of old satellites.” 
One wall-screen dissolves into an image of Musk: shirtless, pale, wild-eyed, a red handprint on his chest, and his hair teased up into a soaking-wet pompadour. He speaks with a voice from one of those old movies with the twisted, murderous clown. “I saw...a slab of bacon...sizzling in a cast iron pan....but surviving. Still alive. Screaming. This is my dream. This is my nightmare.”
The wall fizzles back into a wall and the Cake Lie guy turns back to me. “This is the last contact we’ve had with him. Musk is up there on Mars with an army of volunteers who worship him as a god. We have reports that he and his cadre of fanatics have seized control of a SpaceX refueling depot.”
“Fascinating stuff. But what’s this got to do with me? My job is to eliminate threats to the Knowledge Economy. Musk practically invented it.
“Elon’s methods have grown...unsound. We don’t have any control or oversight of his operation. He’s grabbing other Corp property, and Disneyland Mars is under construction right now. We need you to get your ass to Mars and find Musk.” 
“And?”
“And...terminate his command.
The room suddenly gets colder. “Terminate, sir?”
Another one of the nerds, who hasn’t yet looked up from his tablet, turns and meets my eyes. “With extreme prejudice.”

~

I spend my time on the Carnival SpaceVenture cruise to Mars neural-scanning Musk’s dossier. I can’t believe they want this man dead. eBay. Tesla. Tesla II,after the first plant melted. Remember- The-90’s BioDomes. Princess Bride-themed Perimeter Defense Systems. And, of course, SpaceX. Everyone thought he was crazy when he said he’d land on Mars and build a manned colony within the decade, but all it took was a trillion dollars in federal subsidies and the labor of an army of volunteer colonists willing to give their lives to his vision. Then, as soon as they got there, he went dark. No messages. No tweets. Nothing but that weird rambling video he shot out into space. Now he’s out there somewhere, surrounded by enraptured supplicants, planting his flag wherever he wants, laying claim to the whole Red Planet. Bad form. He hadn’t put in a bid for that.
The Mars SpacePort and Life Extension Spa is a vast carnival of indulgences. Casinos and virtu-pods and stem cell jacuzzis in every direction. My handler is a weedy twerp in a Star Wars stormtrooper outfit named Klevin. Klevin leads me to the rover bay while giving
me the latest intel.
“Elon’s boys have taken over three Space Force depots, stripped them for parts, and are building some kind of compound at the bottom of a pedestal crater about twenty klicks south of here.”
We pop the door on a Lexus Mars Truxter and settle into the plush leather seats.
Mars is a blasted red inferno, devoid of life and swirling with clouds of poison, and still more livable than half the former United States and pretty much everything south of the equator. The crimson dirt pulses with malevolence, like it’s crying out in thirst.
It wants my blood. I refuse to give it. We crawl across the planet’s seething skin in the shadow of our own dying world, the only sounds our ragged breath. The redness burns into my eyes and for a moment I think I must be in hell. Condemned to burn forever for my crimes. I see the bodies in front of me, shimmering in the Martian heat. All the critics, the activists, the trolls. Cut down by me, in the name of progress. Progress. Progress that has led to me driving across a dead land to kill a genius and visionary. It takes all my willpower not to pop open the hatch and let the pressure blow my head off just to put an end to the blood-tinted visions.
Finally we crest a ridge and the rover tilts down, and we’re looking out onto a vast red concavity, at the center of which is a huge structure jutting into the sunlight. It has rounded sides and glowing vertical rails and a row of buttons the size of Teslas. It takes me a minute to realize what I’m looking at. It’s a ten-story 1950’s jukebox.
I pilot the rover down the slope of the crater and up to the building. Soon we’re dwarfed on both sides by gigantic replica ‘57 Chevys, parked hubcap-deep in Martian dirt. Shiny grey robots in poodle skirts and giant metal beehives zip between the cars on magnetic roller skates, holding trays of plastic hamburgers. A door at the base of the jukebox slides open and figures march out of the darkness.
Klevin and I scramble to attach our space helmets as the figures come into view. There are three. They wear bright white lab coats. Under their bubble-shaped helmets their hair juts from their heads in blue spikes. They hold whimsical plastic ray guns. I pop open the rover hatch and climb out, arms above my head. I can’t hear them through their helmets and the thin Martian air but I can see their lips vibrate as they burp in unison.
They lead us through the doors and into the jukebox. The inside is a gigantic atrium, the walls throbbing with red. Dozens of Musk worshipers in identical lab coats and identically-spiked blue hair sit hunched over a long bar counter, sipping identical milkshakes. They drink in unison, their Adam’s apples bobbing rhythmically. “Rock Around the Clock” blares from hidden speakers. I take my helmet off — I’m smacked in the face with the smell of french fries. Musk is nowhere to be seen.
A man runs towards me. He’s wearing a leather jacket and pegged jeans. A GoPro is strapped to his forehead. 
“Hey, man. Welcome to the Future! It’s like the past, but better.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a reporter. Gizmodo. They sent me up here to interview Elon. That was...two years ago? Shit.”
“Where is Musk? I want to talk to him.”
“Hey, man, you don’t talk to Elon. You listen to him. The man’s enlarged my mind. He’s a poet-innovator in the classic sense. I mean sometimes he’ll, uh, well, you’ll say hello to him, right? And he’ll just walk right by you, and he won’t even notice you. And suddenly
he’ll grab you, and he’ll throw you in a corner, and he’ll say ‘Do you know that the human head weighs eight pounds? Jerry Maguire.’ I mean, I’m a little man, I’m a little man, he’s, he’s a great man.”
“Dear God...” says Klevin. He peeks behind the reporter. I follow his eyeline. Against the back wall is a row of severed heads, balancing on the handles of a row of Segways. Every one of the heads looks like Musk’s.
The reporter turns to look at them, too. “The heads. You’re looking at the heads. Yeah...the clones tried to unionize. Look, sometimes he goes too far. He’s the first one to admit it. But what he’s doing here...it’s beyond anything you could imagine. He’s leading mankind to its destiny! We will become one with the galaxy because of this man. There are no words to define him, man. He transcends your language. Your morality.”
“Rock Around the Clock” cuts out and a voice booms over the speakers. “Hello, b-b-b-b-b-b-baaaaaabies!”
We all look up: descending on wires from the ceiling is a giant throne edged in chrome and leather, which takes only a few seconds to reach the floor. A glistening, bright red figure sits on the throne, his stomach swollen, his face the size and shape of a dodgeball. Tubes run from his pulsing, tumescent arms to three blissed-out worshipers, pumping blood into the man’s body to the point of bursting. Musk’s body.
“You’re Musk!” Klevin says.
Musk turns to look at him. The bags under his eyes throb with blood. He opens his mouth, his teeth seem to be glowing.
“Our whole universe was in a hot, dense state, then nearly fourteen billion years ago expansion started, wait! The earth began to cool, the autotrophs began to drool, Neanderthals developed tools, we built a wall. We built the pyramids! Math, science, history, unraveling the mysteries that all started with the Big Bang! Hey!” 
I stare at him. During the shuttle flight I thought that the minute I looked at him I’d know what to do, but that hasn’t happened. He’s grotesque and monstrous. He created a living time capsule in the wastes of space. And he just said the entire theme song to The Big Bang Theory. Killing him suddenly feels both obscene and pointless.
“Sir, I’ve been sent to terminate your command.”
“Many years ago I fought in the Meme Wars. You are too young to remember. I was in the Special Forces with powerful men, men capable of taking on 100 duck-sized horses or even one horse-sized duck. We captured a village of Imgurians — all of this base are belong to us. And we went through it, from door to door, yelling ‘Leeeeeeroy Jenkins’ and hacking off their arms. They were in a pile. A pile of little severed arms, Derpina arms. You didn’t need a banana for scale. Wrong? Was I wrong? No. It’s the children who are wrong. The meaning in all this is 42—”
This speech makes things easier. To shut him up I pull the e-machete out of my space suit and stick it in his chest. He pops like a balloon. Blood jets across the room, covering me, Klevin, all of Musk’s worshipers, and the ceiling.
Musk slumps down in the throne. His lips start moving. “I’ve seen things...you people wouldn’t believe...”
I reach down and put my hand on his knee, speak in a whisper close to prayer.
“Wrong reference, idiot.”

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2 hours ago, namenski said:

Tako kao sto kazes, slazem se, ali mislim da je Muskova uloga u proboju elektroautomobila bila vise upravo u njegovoj medijskoj eksponazi nego u stvarnim dometima, mada - sto jes-jes, zaljuljao je camac i sigurno ubrzao stvari: ali, to ipak nije inzenjerija :) 

Ali, siguran sam, elektroauto je bio iza coska i bez njega.

 

Pa dobro, ali da je auto kojim slucajem bio piece of junk ta medijska eksponaza bi stvari odlozila. Znaci bilo je tu nekog inzenjeringa, to pass the bar at least. 

 

 

3 hours ago, namenski said:

I tu vidim osnovni Muskov nedostatak, promasaj: klasicni raketni motor, primera radi, naprava je koja, prakticno bez bitnih izmena, uspesno radi jos od, recimo, V2 rakete.

On je kao resenje dostigao svoj zenit, izneo nas u orbitu i nema te mudrolije koja ce od njega - ovakav kakav je - da napravi napravu koja ce covecanstvo da odveze na Mars recimo.

Obaska sto ih se danas u svetu proizvodi dobrih 50 - 100 brendovatm sa sve malim debelim na zacelju.

Zato mi je Space X zasmrdeo na softversko startapovanje u onom stereotipnom smislu da se na brzinu uzmu pare: to nece da moze, a inzenjerska vizija i ostvarenje istinski revolucionarnog svemirskog pogona je jos daleko i mislim da Musk nije igrac te lige.

 

 

O tom "biznisu" slabo znam, pa necu da njarim. Znam samo da neki od njegovih saradnika veruju da sve radi zbog marsa.. gore ne moze bez elektricnih vozila, trebaju mu i tuneli gore, solar isto.. ali to su budalastine. 

No, i tu je odigrao ulogu. "Popularizovao" je granu ponovo, ideju da privatni sektor moze i tu da cacka.. a nemoj mi reci da dizanje i spustanje falkona ne zahteva inzenjerstvo.  

 

 

4 hours ago, namenski said:

A brt, previse je i kapitalistatm i to u ne bas dobrom smislu, barem sudeci po onom sto se prica :D 

 

Pa kako drugacije u kapitalizmu? 

 

 

Elem, kad smo kod pr-a, ovo je pravi pr. Onaj koji ne spava i vreba svaku priliku:

https://www.cnbc.com/2018/09/07/air-force-is-looking-into-elon-musks-pot-smoking-source.html

 

Sto je najgore, odgledao sam taj deo, em je bas samo probao jedan jebeni dim, nije uvukao, i odmah posle toga rekao da nikada ne pusi i da smatra da je pusenje lose za produktivnost. Veze s vezom nema. 

 

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1 hour ago, JozoMujica said:

Kad smo kod pucvala, u kojoj vrsti prodavnica se kupuje? Gvozdjarama, farbarama...?

Mislim da ima u gvozdjarama. Za farbare nisam siguran.

 

Urko, za šta je konkretno mask inženjerski zaslužan? Ozbiljno pitam.

 

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Nema na cemu. Nadam se da ti je sad malo jasnije brate. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elem, ne zajebavaj. Aktivna uloga u svakom od tih projekata zahteva makar poznavanje materije. Na koju foru mislis da on donosi sve te lose odluke, gleda u pasulj? Random choices? 

 

Pa i da ga svedes na tu "kontrolu" sto kaze Namenski, malo li je jbt? Da l ste bre vi svesni sta spada pod to u njegovom slucaju? 

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16 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

Pa dobro, ali da je auto kojim slucajem bio piece of junk ta medijska eksponaza bi stvari odlozila. Znaci bilo je tu nekog inzenjeringa, to pass the bar at least. 

Bilo je inzenjeringa naravno, i to poprilicnog, samo u slucaju Tesle imam dojam da je stvari ipak prelomio dobar marketing.

 

18 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

O tom "biznisu" slabo znam, pa necu da njarim. Znam samo da neki od njegovih saradnika veruju da sve radi zbog marsa.. gore ne moze bez elektricnih vozila, trebaju mu i tuneli gore, solar isto.. ali to su budalastine. 

No, i tu je odigrao ulogu. "Popularizovao" je granu ponovo, ideju da privatni sektor moze i tu da cacka..

U vezi boldovanog i tvoje napomene o kapitalisti u kapitalizmu :D 

Privatni sektor ne moze da se dokopa Marsa pa da je milijardu puta privatniji: ono sto se previdja je da su verovatno poslednji poduhvati privatnog sektora od opstedrustvenog i opstecovecanskog znacaja bili Pirijevo osvajanje Severnog pola ili Lindbergov let preko Atlantika.

Za sve ostale poduhvate znacaja koji sam pomenuo morala je da zalegne moderna mocna drzava: od stvaranja uslova i mogucnosti za razvoj modernog vazduhoplovstva, kako vojnog, tako i civilnog, do - leta na Mesec, a primere mozemo da nabrajamo do jutra.

Privatni sektor se iz nekihtm razloga drzao podalje od slicnih poduhvata, isto onoliko orno, koliko orno je zakukavao za pomoc te iste drzave kada mu lose popravilu je igrao na sigurno, prepustajuci troskove velikih poduhvata drzavi da ne kazem poreskim obveznicima.

Bas kao i sopstvene gubitke, kad god mu se pruzila prilika.

 

25 minutes ago, urkozamanje said:

a nemoj mi reci da dizanje i spustanje falkona ne zahteva inzenjerstvo.  

Naravno da zahteva, itekakvo, ali je meni em zao da se ljudi i resursi (sto je kod Muskova isto) trose na tehnoloska slepa creva kao sto sam pokusao da objasnim na primeru klasicnih raketnih motora koji su srce projekta.

 

 

A u vezi Muskovog inzenjerstva - vidim da se i Toni ubacio - bice da nema mnogo da se kaze: mislim da se ipak radi o coveku koji je sposoban organizator, a ne inzenjer i koji svesno i bojim se ne bas najcistijih namera igra na dobar marketing, mada mi se i njegovo organizatorstvo klati - moj utisak - posmatrajuci poslednje poteze koje preduzima.

 

O Marsu i Musku - ne bih, tek to je sprdnja.

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7 hours ago, urkozamanje said:

Pa brate, za sve sto radi. Ozbiljno. Koliko sam razumeo u tome i jeste problem. Sto zna sve :)

Ovo zaboravih, ali da ne duzim, ceka me naporan dan, bela ladja, more, taj rad :tongue:: iz par tvojih napomena stekoh dojam da imas posredan uvid u desavanja oko Muska.

Sa sve kvotovanim.

Prosecno informisanom, dojam mi je, a potkrepljen skoro potpunim odsustvom pominjanja bilo koje persone osim njega samog u svim tim silnim projektima, da se radi o svesno i pazljivo orkestriranoj ego promociji.

Opet, vidim da ostajes pri tvrdnji da covek sve radi sam, sto mi se cini poprilicni nemogucim u slozenostima danasnje tehnologije i rasponu Muskovih preduzimanja.

Sta i kako se tu desava?

 

Usput budi receno, bilo bi mi u neku ruku drago da si u pravu, donekle bi mi povratilo veru u mogucnosti delovanja pojedinca u jednom obezlicenom sistemu koji anulira pojedinca i njegov udeo cini anonimnim u gomili naucnika, inzenjera.

Pa ma za tako nesto morao da imas par desetina milijardi dolara.

 

 

 

Ne bi mi bilo drago zbog boldovanog: dvojica nas je previse :D

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Ma bre igrom slucaja radim sa nekolicinom ljudi koji su radili u tesli (neki od njih dovoljno visoko pozicionirani da saradjuju neposredno sa njim) pa svasta nesto cujem, pogotovo zadnjih par dana. Inace nisam ni fan ni nesto posebno zainteresovan za maska, daleko mi je zanimljivije da slusam o resenjima i greskama koje su pravili nego o njemu kao tipu. Samo iz toga sto sam cuo ne zakljucujem da je puki investitor/biznismen vec neko ko je prilicno involviran (i ne, naravno da ne radi sve sam). 

 

 

A sigurno da ima orkestrirane promocije, no sumnjam bas da su tu sliku ni iz cega stvorili. On jeste radoholicar i prilicno produktivan covek. I to je to. 

 

 

 

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