If you are concerned about the possible existence of beings whose genetic material is derived from more than two other beings, you should perhaps meditate on the meaning of having grandparents.

It may be an error to confuse scientific reality with newspaper headlines that are designed to stimulate sales.

The notes will be restored and then popped into a glass display case with one or two pages visible, with a sort-of description of why they are important.

Pretty much all of Bletchley is like this, unfortunately. Stuff on display that you are not going to understand, such as copies of Turing's early mathematical papers with only the first page showing.

The problem with the whole Bletchley Park experience is that it was obviously extremely important, but is practically beyond all explanation for the ordinary punter. I think I might be able to intellectually struggle through an explanation of some of it, but the displays do not explain it in enough detail to help with that. Overall, my visit felt like a patchwork of different explanations of the same few concepts using poster boards, audio devices and video and interactive displays. It's padded out with various "wartime experience" bits here and there.

It probably seems like a very negative attitude, but a technical chap in his mid-forties with a couple of bright teenagers in tow ought to be right in the target demographic for Bletchley, but I'm practically embarrassed to say that I ended up drinking weak hot chocolate in the cafe and agreeing with my boys that it was all rather dull.

Special commendation for the rack of old bicycles at the end of one of the huts, with a hidden speaker to give you the authentic experience of what squeaky bicycle wheels sounded like in the 1940's. Or something?

I wandered into this place looking for an oil change on my NB: http://www.paradisemotorsport....

They'll run forever. Badly.

(Seriously, electric choke???)

I once worked for a place that restored a Sprite (the later version rebadged midget). Positive ground! Evil!

We put on the cutest little headers too.

I discovered the hard way that resetting the OBDII on the bug meant driving the car at least 40 miles on the highway. Since my whole purpose was as a station car, train to work to lunch only, that was a real PITA.

2001 bug has it.
2008 Chrysler has it. It stopped working, would go halfway up then detect "interference" and go back down, took it to dealer, dealer replaced something on other side. Then when I pointed that out he fixed it.
2008 Edge has it, drivers side only. Also has it for up or down of hatch, though it sometimes false-positives interference on the down.

But you can still slam your finger in any door.

I wouldn't want to hack any of those. When I got a new battery for the bug at Batteries+, the listing said "Do Not Even Attempt To Install This For Customer." Installer ignored that, no problem.

I once had a Fiat 128 with a different engine swapped in. The schematics didn't agree with what was there or had been there. In Italian.

Oracle Partners jobs require certs. This is of course all marketing, but marketing is lucrative.

All you need to do is take a couple of upgrade exams, and pink unicorns will bombard you from the sky with suitcases of sparkly cash.

See the alternate method at the bottom of this doc.

You're weird.

I've seen another variant of this:

They've dumped it on a contractor because they "knew" it was doomed. Contract not renewed. Six months later, original "hero" is gone, and new contract, with more realistic requirements.

Sometimes what they say they know, what they actually know, and what they come to believe are not congruent.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Betteridge's_law_of_headlines

In this case, "Yes"

3d printers are robots.

Happened in San Diego too: http://catless.ncl.ac.uk/Risks/26.80.html#subj5.1

It really comes to something when a website for a type of church can be considered NSFW. I understand though -- in my 10 years in corporate America I sure kept my atheistic head down. Nothing would have finished a career quicker than letting my screaming, wall-thumping, secretary-humping, second-wife-divorcing bosses know that I was not also a Christian.