Is anyone but me worried about the satellite that's going to come crashing down at the end of this week?
The powers-that-be have known about the upcoming collision for months; it's a US UARS (Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite) that was launched in 1991. It was decommissioned and shut down six years ago, and its orbit has been decaying ever since. Without any intervention, the satellite will reenter the earth's atmosphere, and strike the ground on Friday, September 23, give or take six hours or so on either side. The satellite itself weighs 6 tons, which is enough to make a helluva crater.
But not to worry; NASA has narrowed down the impact site to being "probably somewhere on Earth."
Our response? Being that our president is Barack "No More Mr. Nice Guy" Obama, we seem to be doing nothing more than sitting here watching it plummet toward us.
"We're doing our best to compromise with the satellite," the president said, in a press conference. "We attempted to persuade it to fall on Warren Buffett, but this would likely put his secretary at risk, too, and there's no justification for that. We hope to have an agreement reached with the satellite by some time next year."
In a stinging criticism of the president, Texas governor and presidential hopeful Rick Perry stated that this was an entirely inadequate response, and said that a falling death satellite could have devastating effects on the economy. He ended on a hopeful note, however, suggesting that the danger from the satellite might well be overblown. "We should remember," Perry stated to a cheering crowd of Republicans, "that gravity is, after all, only a theory."
Okay, maybe I'm being a little unfair, here; it's not like there's really anything they can do at this point. If they'd gotten on the stick a little earlier, they might have been able to shoot the satellite down, which is what they did the last time this happened. Of course, this was during the presidency of George "Git 'Er Done" Bush, whose entire foreign policy was, quote, "YEEEEEE-HAWWWW!", and who seemed to think that "Blast the crap out of it" was an appropriate response to damn near everything. In that case, however, it actually worked, and the satellite was blown into pieces small enough to burn up in the atmosphere. But it's too late to attempt anything like that this time, so all we can do now is sit back and wait. As one NASA official put it, and unlike the previous quotes, I'm not making this one up, "If you're near the impact site, you'll be in for a nice fireworks show as it breaks up on descent."
Well, isn't that a lovely thought! We might even be able to appreciate the pretty lights for several seconds before we get flattened. And it's not like the "breaking up on descent" part makes it any better; instead of one big chunk o' metal, we'll now have a hundred slightly smaller chunks o' metal. It's not like all 26 tons of satellite are going to vaporize, Star Trek style, into a cloud of dust.
And no one, as far as I've heard, has questioned the wisdom of putting the damn things up there in the first place. You'd think that the folks at NASA would have heard of the concept of air resistance, wherein drag with the atmosphere (thin as it is up there) eventually causes the orbits of all satellites to decay. Apparently not, given the fact that every time we send a rocket up, we basically put another piece of space junk into high orbit. All that stuff will, sooner or later, come crashing down. But fear not; it probably won't be for a long while for most of them, and the Earth's a big place. As far as this Friday's event, the chance that anyone's house will get hit by a falling satellite part is only "one in 3,200."
Nevertheless, I'm keeping my eye on the sky on Friday. I won't have time to run if I'm in the bullseye, but at least I won't get caught unawares.
Which, now that I come to think of it, isn't all that much consolation.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Face off
In the third of our series on Giving Woo-Woo Explanations For Every Damn Thing You See, we have: chance resemblances proving that famous people are actually Evil Undead Creatures of the Night.
I was looking through the news yesterday, and I came across the story of a Civil War era photograph from Tennessee being offered at auction. What's unusual about it is that the owner is hoping someone will pay a million dollars for it. By now, you're probably pretty curious about it, so without further ado, here's the photograph:
So, I'm thinking, "Why would anyone pay a million dollars for this?" So I looked closer, and saw that the guy in the photograph does look kind of like Nicolas Cage. This made me go, "Huh. Why would anyone spend a million dollars for a photo just because it looks a little like Nicolas Cage?"
But that's not what the owner claims. The owner claims that it is Nicolas Cage. Here's the advertisement for the item in the auction:
*brief pause to pound my head on the desk*
Of course, this isn't the first time this sort of thing has been claimed. You may not know it, but Keanu Reeves is also one of the undead, and I'm not referring to the fact that he only seems to be capable of a single facial expression:
Yes, folks, this painting by the 19th century French painter Louis-Maurice Boutet de Monvel is actually of the star of The Matrix. You'd think it would be hard to persuade an evil immortal vampire to sit still long enough to have his portrait painted. Oh, well, I guess if you're The One, you can do whatever the hell you want.
Then, there's the claim that Shia LaBeouf is an immortal, shapeshifting clone (see the YouTube video here). I think this one may be a joke, but honestly, who can tell? As far as I can see the Nicolas Cage and Keanu Reeves claims are dead serious, so by comparison, the LaBeouf thing is maybe one notch more ridiculous, and still not as generally stupid as (for example) the claim made earlier this year that Han Solo had crashed the Millennium Falcon into the Baltic Sea, where it was later found by some intrepid Swedish treasure hunters.
The whole thing kind of makes me crazy, mostly because I feel sure that today I'll have at least one student ask me today, "Did you hear that they found a photograph of Nicolas Cage from the Civil War?" causing various other students to say, "Dude, that's amazing," or words to that effect, and I'm going to have to exert a heroic effort not to say something extremely snarky.
I was looking through the news yesterday, and I came across the story of a Civil War era photograph from Tennessee being offered at auction. What's unusual about it is that the owner is hoping someone will pay a million dollars for it. By now, you're probably pretty curious about it, so without further ado, here's the photograph:
So, I'm thinking, "Why would anyone pay a million dollars for this?" So I looked closer, and saw that the guy in the photograph does look kind of like Nicolas Cage. This made me go, "Huh. Why would anyone spend a million dollars for a photo just because it looks a little like Nicolas Cage?"
But that's not what the owner claims. The owner claims that it is Nicolas Cage. Here's the advertisement for the item in the auction:
Original c.1870 carte de visite showing a man who looks exactly like Nick Cage. Personally, I believe it's him and that he is some sort of walking undead / vampire, et cetera, who quickens / reinvents himself once every 75 years or so. 150 years from now, he might be a politician, the leader of a cult, or a talk show host. This is not a trick photo of any kind and has not been manipulated in Photoshop or any other graphics program.Oh, okay. That makes sense. Nicolas Cage is lying about having been born in California in 1964. All of this stuff about his being the nephew of Francis Ford Coppola is also a lie. Childhood photographs that you find on his fan site? They're of some other kid. It makes far more sense that he is an immortal vampire who lived in Tennessee during the Civil War.
*brief pause to pound my head on the desk*
Of course, this isn't the first time this sort of thing has been claimed. You may not know it, but Keanu Reeves is also one of the undead, and I'm not referring to the fact that he only seems to be capable of a single facial expression:
Yes, folks, this painting by the 19th century French painter Louis-Maurice Boutet de Monvel is actually of the star of The Matrix. You'd think it would be hard to persuade an evil immortal vampire to sit still long enough to have his portrait painted. Oh, well, I guess if you're The One, you can do whatever the hell you want.
Then, there's the claim that Shia LaBeouf is an immortal, shapeshifting clone (see the YouTube video here). I think this one may be a joke, but honestly, who can tell? As far as I can see the Nicolas Cage and Keanu Reeves claims are dead serious, so by comparison, the LaBeouf thing is maybe one notch more ridiculous, and still not as generally stupid as (for example) the claim made earlier this year that Han Solo had crashed the Millennium Falcon into the Baltic Sea, where it was later found by some intrepid Swedish treasure hunters.
The whole thing kind of makes me crazy, mostly because I feel sure that today I'll have at least one student ask me today, "Did you hear that they found a photograph of Nicolas Cage from the Civil War?" causing various other students to say, "Dude, that's amazing," or words to that effect, and I'm going to have to exert a heroic effort not to say something extremely snarky.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
In the dark
To further investigate yesterday's topic of people wanting to give woo-woo explanations to everything, today we investigate: The Dark.
First, a brief physics lesson.
Things are generally called "dark" for one of two reasons. First, there are objects whose chemical makeup results in their absorbing most of the light that falls on them. Second, there are things that don't interact with light much at all, so they neither absorb nor reflect light -- light passes right through them. An example of the first would be a charcoal briquet. An example of the second would be interstellar space, which is sort of dark-by-default.
This whole thing comes up because of the recent discovery of an extrasolar planet, with the mellifluous name TrES-2b. TrES-2b orbits the even more charmingly named GSC 03549-02811, a star about 718 light years away. TrES-2b has the distinction of being the darkest extrasolar planet yet discovered. David Kipping, of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics, stated, "TrES-2b is considerably less reflective than black acrylic paint, so it is truly an alien world."
That was all it took. Whereas my reaction was, "Huh! A Jupiter-sized charcoal briquet! That's kinda cool," the woo-woos just couldn't resist wooing all over this story. We now have the following speculations, all from websites owned by people who probably shouldn't be allowed outside unsupervised:
The first two explanations left me with a giant bruise on my forehead from doing a faceplant while reading. At the risk of insulting my readers' intelligence, let me just say quickly that (1) antimatter's "opposite properties" have nothing to do with regular matter being light and antimatter being dark, because if it did, the next time a kindergartner pulled a black crayon out of the box, he would explode in a burst of gamma rays; and (2) "dark matter" is called "dark" because of the second reason, that it doesn't interact with much of anything, including light, so the idea of a planet made of it is kind of ridiculous, and in any case physicists haven't even proved that it exists, so if some astrophysicist found a whole freakin' planet made of it it would KIND OF MAKE HEADLINES, YOU KNOW?
Sorry for getting carried away, there. But I will reiterate something I have said more than once, in this blog; if you're going to start blathering on about science, for cryin' in the sink at least get the science right. Even the least scientific woo-woo out there can read the Wikipedia page for "Dark Matter," for example, wherein we find that the first line is, "In astronomy and cosmology, dark matter is matter that neither emits nor scatters light or other electromagnetic radiation, and so cannot be directly detected via optical or radio astronomy." (Italics mine, and put in so that any of the aforementioned woo-woos who are reading this post will focus on the important part.)
And I won't even address the "secret alien base" and "hell" theories regarding TrES-2b, except to say that it should come as a relief that the evil aliens or Satan (depending on which version you went for) are safely 718 light years away. To put this in perspective, this means that if they were heading here in the fastest spacecraft humans have ever created, Voyager 1, which travels at about 16 kilometers per second -- it would still take them eleven million years to get here.
In any case, I guess it's all a matter of how you view what's around you. I find the universe, and therefore science, endlessly fascinating, because what scientists have uncovered is weird, wonderful, and counter-intuitive. I don't need to start attaching all sorts of anti-scientific bunk to their discoveries -- nature is cool enough as it is.
Okay, thus endeth today's rant. I will simply end with an admonishment to be careful next time you barbeque. I hear those charcoal briquets can be made of antimatter, which could make your next cook-out a dicey affair. You might want to wear gloves while you handle them. Better safe than sorry!
First, a brief physics lesson.
Things are generally called "dark" for one of two reasons. First, there are objects whose chemical makeup results in their absorbing most of the light that falls on them. Second, there are things that don't interact with light much at all, so they neither absorb nor reflect light -- light passes right through them. An example of the first would be a charcoal briquet. An example of the second would be interstellar space, which is sort of dark-by-default.
This whole thing comes up because of the recent discovery of an extrasolar planet, with the mellifluous name TrES-2b. TrES-2b orbits the even more charmingly named GSC 03549-02811, a star about 718 light years away. TrES-2b has the distinction of being the darkest extrasolar planet yet discovered. David Kipping, of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics, stated, "TrES-2b is considerably less reflective than black acrylic paint, so it is truly an alien world."
That was all it took. Whereas my reaction was, "Huh! A Jupiter-sized charcoal briquet! That's kinda cool," the woo-woos just couldn't resist wooing all over this story. We now have the following speculations, all from websites owned by people who probably shouldn't be allowed outside unsupervised:
- TrES-2b is made of antimatter, and we shouldn't go there because it would blow up. We know it's antimatter because antimatter has the opposite properties to matter, so it's dark.
- TrES-2b is made of "dark matter," and yes, they're not just talking about stuff that's black, they're talking about the physicists' "dark matter," about which I'll have more to say in a moment.
- TrES-2b is dark because it's being hidden by aliens who are currently on their way to Earth to take over. Lucky for us we spotted it in time!
- TrES-2b is hell. No, I'm not making this up.
The first two explanations left me with a giant bruise on my forehead from doing a faceplant while reading. At the risk of insulting my readers' intelligence, let me just say quickly that (1) antimatter's "opposite properties" have nothing to do with regular matter being light and antimatter being dark, because if it did, the next time a kindergartner pulled a black crayon out of the box, he would explode in a burst of gamma rays; and (2) "dark matter" is called "dark" because of the second reason, that it doesn't interact with much of anything, including light, so the idea of a planet made of it is kind of ridiculous, and in any case physicists haven't even proved that it exists, so if some astrophysicist found a whole freakin' planet made of it it would KIND OF MAKE HEADLINES, YOU KNOW?
Sorry for getting carried away, there. But I will reiterate something I have said more than once, in this blog; if you're going to start blathering on about science, for cryin' in the sink at least get the science right. Even the least scientific woo-woo out there can read the Wikipedia page for "Dark Matter," for example, wherein we find that the first line is, "In astronomy and cosmology, dark matter is matter that neither emits nor scatters light or other electromagnetic radiation, and so cannot be directly detected via optical or radio astronomy." (Italics mine, and put in so that any of the aforementioned woo-woos who are reading this post will focus on the important part.)
And I won't even address the "secret alien base" and "hell" theories regarding TrES-2b, except to say that it should come as a relief that the evil aliens or Satan (depending on which version you went for) are safely 718 light years away. To put this in perspective, this means that if they were heading here in the fastest spacecraft humans have ever created, Voyager 1, which travels at about 16 kilometers per second -- it would still take them eleven million years to get here.
In any case, I guess it's all a matter of how you view what's around you. I find the universe, and therefore science, endlessly fascinating, because what scientists have uncovered is weird, wonderful, and counter-intuitive. I don't need to start attaching all sorts of anti-scientific bunk to their discoveries -- nature is cool enough as it is.
Okay, thus endeth today's rant. I will simply end with an admonishment to be careful next time you barbeque. I hear those charcoal briquets can be made of antimatter, which could make your next cook-out a dicey affair. You might want to wear gloves while you handle them. Better safe than sorry!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Geoglyphs, alien landing sites, and Yankee Stadium
Can we, just occasionally, refrain from attaching a woo-woo explanation to everything?
I make this plea because of a recent study, headed by David Kennedy of the University of Western Australia's Department of Classics and Ancient History. Kennedy and his team studied a curious set of structures called "geoglyphs" - patterns on the ground that are so large that their overall shape can only be seen from the air. The most famous geoglyphs are the Nazca Lines of southern Peru, which from above can be resolved into enormous drawings of lizards, monkeys, and abstract designs, and whose purpose is still unknown today.
The geoglyphs in Kennedy's study are in the Middle East, and can be found from Syria down to Saudi Arabia. From the air, they resolve into wheels with multiple spokes, diamond-shaped patterns nicknamed "kites," and long, narrow patterns ("pendants"). (You can see a gallery of their photographs here.) Kennedy and his team have mapped out the geoglyphs and are working on a paper describing their extent, and speculating on their age and possible uses. He suggests that some of them may have had completely practical purposes, such as penning cattle.
Then the woo-woos got involved.
You got your ancient gods, especially once someone noticed that one of the geoglyphs looks a little like the Eye of Ra from Egyptian art. You got your alien landing sites. You got your super-powerful civilization that was connected to Atlantis. You got your ley lines. You got your structures that concentrate magical forces.
You even got your coded messages related to December 21, 2012, although how in the hell the Mayans got to Saudi Arabia is a mystery to me.
C'mon, folks. Can't we just once allow something to have a prosaic explanation, and just let it sit there? What, aren't cattle pens good enough for you people? You have to wonder how the woo-woos ten thousand years from now will interpret, for instance, Yankee Stadium.
"Yes, you can clearly see from the fact that it was open to the air, that it had something to do with the worship of the sky, perhaps an ancient astrological observatory... it is teardrop shaped, with the point toward the west, representing the tears wept by the Sun God... It has many seats for the observance of rituals... It is symbolized by a letter N, which stands for 'nature', intersected by a stylized person with his arms upraised, yearning for the gods to return...It is a place of great power and magic, visited regularly by our noble and mystical ancestors."
It's not, as I've had more than one reason to explain in the last week, because I immediately discount weird explanations; as a biologist, I'm fully aware that nature is sometimes bizarre and counter-intuitive. It's more that rushing to outlandish theories is lazy. It doesn't require any particular hard work or deep thought; hell, it doesn't even require any evidence. You just notice something, and immediately attribute it to magic, aliens, spirits, whatever, and your job is done.
So could the Middle Eastern geoglyphs be alien landing sites? I suppose it's possible. With astronomers' recent discovery of hundreds of extrasolar planets, many of them with Earth-like characteristics, I think the likelihood of life elsewhere in the universe is nearly 100%, and the likelihood of intelligent life probably nearly that high. But if you claim they've come here, and that some structure or another is an alien staging platform, you better have something more going for your theory than "it must be, because you can only see their overall shapes from the air."
With no further evidence provided, I'm going with cattle pens, myself.
I make this plea because of a recent study, headed by David Kennedy of the University of Western Australia's Department of Classics and Ancient History. Kennedy and his team studied a curious set of structures called "geoglyphs" - patterns on the ground that are so large that their overall shape can only be seen from the air. The most famous geoglyphs are the Nazca Lines of southern Peru, which from above can be resolved into enormous drawings of lizards, monkeys, and abstract designs, and whose purpose is still unknown today.
The geoglyphs in Kennedy's study are in the Middle East, and can be found from Syria down to Saudi Arabia. From the air, they resolve into wheels with multiple spokes, diamond-shaped patterns nicknamed "kites," and long, narrow patterns ("pendants"). (You can see a gallery of their photographs here.) Kennedy and his team have mapped out the geoglyphs and are working on a paper describing their extent, and speculating on their age and possible uses. He suggests that some of them may have had completely practical purposes, such as penning cattle.
Then the woo-woos got involved.
You got your ancient gods, especially once someone noticed that one of the geoglyphs looks a little like the Eye of Ra from Egyptian art. You got your alien landing sites. You got your super-powerful civilization that was connected to Atlantis. You got your ley lines. You got your structures that concentrate magical forces.
You even got your coded messages related to December 21, 2012, although how in the hell the Mayans got to Saudi Arabia is a mystery to me.
C'mon, folks. Can't we just once allow something to have a prosaic explanation, and just let it sit there? What, aren't cattle pens good enough for you people? You have to wonder how the woo-woos ten thousand years from now will interpret, for instance, Yankee Stadium.
"Yes, you can clearly see from the fact that it was open to the air, that it had something to do with the worship of the sky, perhaps an ancient astrological observatory... it is teardrop shaped, with the point toward the west, representing the tears wept by the Sun God... It has many seats for the observance of rituals... It is symbolized by a letter N, which stands for 'nature', intersected by a stylized person with his arms upraised, yearning for the gods to return...It is a place of great power and magic, visited regularly by our noble and mystical ancestors."
It's not, as I've had more than one reason to explain in the last week, because I immediately discount weird explanations; as a biologist, I'm fully aware that nature is sometimes bizarre and counter-intuitive. It's more that rushing to outlandish theories is lazy. It doesn't require any particular hard work or deep thought; hell, it doesn't even require any evidence. You just notice something, and immediately attribute it to magic, aliens, spirits, whatever, and your job is done.
So could the Middle Eastern geoglyphs be alien landing sites? I suppose it's possible. With astronomers' recent discovery of hundreds of extrasolar planets, many of them with Earth-like characteristics, I think the likelihood of life elsewhere in the universe is nearly 100%, and the likelihood of intelligent life probably nearly that high. But if you claim they've come here, and that some structure or another is an alien staging platform, you better have something more going for your theory than "it must be, because you can only see their overall shapes from the air."
With no further evidence provided, I'm going with cattle pens, myself.
Friday, September 16, 2011
The guiding stones
It is virtually self-evident that belief in an odd idea can propel you to do odd things.
Of the many odd things I've run into, however, the Georgia Guidestones definitely come near the top of the list. Built of polished granite and standing sixteen feet tall, the Guidestones are arranged on the top of a treeless hill in Elbert County, Georgia. They are so imposing (and so mysterious) that they've been compared to Stonehenge, or to the weird black monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
(photo courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons)
Not the least mystery about them is who commissioned them, and why. They were erected, under mysterious circumstances, in June of 1979. The land on which they stand is owned by Elbert County, and was deeded to them by a "Robert C. Christian," who had purchased the land from a Wayne Mullenix. I put "Robert C. Christian" in quotes because this almost certainly is a pseudonym -- curious researchers have tried, unsuccessfully, to identify who he is (or was). (There is apparently persuasive, if circumstantial, evidence that R. C. Christian is Ted Turner.)
The message on the Guidestones is a series of (if you will) Ten Commandments, evidently intended to help the survivors create a better society once the apocalypse knocks off the rest of us. These pronouncements are presented in twelve different languages -- English, Chinese, Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, Swahili, Hindi, Spanish, Ancient Greek, Sanskrit, Babylonian Cuneiform, and Egyptian Hieroglyphics. These last four, I suppose, are there in case the apocalypse spares some (for example) Ancient Sumerians.
The Guidestones themselves have various notches and holes cut into them, apparently in an effort to make them line up with the position of the sun, moon, and stars at various times of year. The overall effect is to deepen the mystery, and perhaps heighten perception of the structure as resembling Stonehenge.
Given the time and effort someone put into all of this, and how seriously he seems to take himself (I'm assuming that R. C. Christian is a man, given the male pseudonym), I find it a little disappointing how generally inane the Guidestones' "Ten Commandments" are. Some of them aren't bad ideas, but are hardly earthshattering ("Protect People And Nations With Fair Laws And Just Courts"), while others seem a little pie-in-the-sky ("Unite Humanity With A Living New Language.") I have to admit to some disappointment upon reading what they said. Given all of the mystery, and all the expense someone obviously went to, I was expecting something a little more profound. (You can read the entire message on the Guidestones here.)
What I find even more baffling about this whole thing is how people have responded to them. New Age types mostly think they're great. Yoko Ono, for example, says they are "a stirring call to rational thinking." Some prominent Christian thinkers, predictably, disagree, one Evangelical minister calling them "The Ten Commandments of the Antichrist." An Atlanta psychic, Naunie Batchelder, predicted as far back as 1981 that they were of alien origin, and their purpose would be revealed "within thirty years." (The aliens had better get on that, as they've only got three and a half months left.)
Conspiracy theorists, of course, think they're just the bee's knees. Mark Dice, whose favorite topics are the Illuminati and the New World Order, believes that they are of "deep Satanic origin," and has demanded that they be "smashed into a million pieces." Dice thinks that somehow the Bilderburg Group were involved with the funding and construction of the Guidestones. A researcher named Van Smith has done some numerological analysis of the Guidestones and claims that they are somehow connected to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, the world's tallest building -- and believes that the dimensions of the Guidestones, when properly manipulated, predicted the date of death of Dubai's emir, Sheik Maktoum bin Rashid al Maktoum. Noted wingnut Alex Jones thinks the Rosicrucians are responsible.
All we need is to somehow get the Knights Templar involved, and we'll have a full house of bizarre explanations.
And, of course, all of these folks have followers, and those followers are happy to take action, when they're not picking at the straps of their straitjackets with their teeth. Chickens have more than once been sacrificed in front of the Guidestones. They are a frequent meeting site for a coven of Wiccans from Atlanta. The Guidestones themselves have been repeatedly defaced, most recently by spray-painted graffiti stating "Death to the New World Order" and "Jesus will beat u satanist." There has been more than one attempt to topple the Guidestones, but given that each of the stone blocks weighs twenty tons, those efforts have been thus far unsuccessful.
So, that's today's little dose of weirdness. Next time I'm in Georgia, I'm going to make an effort to go see these things. Not that I particularly think their message is all that profound -- but just to have had a chance to see, first-hand, what all the fuss is about. And since one of the Guidestones' rules says, "Rule Passion - Faith - Tradition - And All Things With Tempered Reason," I figure I owe them at least that much.
Of the many odd things I've run into, however, the Georgia Guidestones definitely come near the top of the list. Built of polished granite and standing sixteen feet tall, the Guidestones are arranged on the top of a treeless hill in Elbert County, Georgia. They are so imposing (and so mysterious) that they've been compared to Stonehenge, or to the weird black monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
(photo courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons)
Not the least mystery about them is who commissioned them, and why. They were erected, under mysterious circumstances, in June of 1979. The land on which they stand is owned by Elbert County, and was deeded to them by a "Robert C. Christian," who had purchased the land from a Wayne Mullenix. I put "Robert C. Christian" in quotes because this almost certainly is a pseudonym -- curious researchers have tried, unsuccessfully, to identify who he is (or was). (There is apparently persuasive, if circumstantial, evidence that R. C. Christian is Ted Turner.)
The message on the Guidestones is a series of (if you will) Ten Commandments, evidently intended to help the survivors create a better society once the apocalypse knocks off the rest of us. These pronouncements are presented in twelve different languages -- English, Chinese, Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, Swahili, Hindi, Spanish, Ancient Greek, Sanskrit, Babylonian Cuneiform, and Egyptian Hieroglyphics. These last four, I suppose, are there in case the apocalypse spares some (for example) Ancient Sumerians.
The Guidestones themselves have various notches and holes cut into them, apparently in an effort to make them line up with the position of the sun, moon, and stars at various times of year. The overall effect is to deepen the mystery, and perhaps heighten perception of the structure as resembling Stonehenge.
Given the time and effort someone put into all of this, and how seriously he seems to take himself (I'm assuming that R. C. Christian is a man, given the male pseudonym), I find it a little disappointing how generally inane the Guidestones' "Ten Commandments" are. Some of them aren't bad ideas, but are hardly earthshattering ("Protect People And Nations With Fair Laws And Just Courts"), while others seem a little pie-in-the-sky ("Unite Humanity With A Living New Language.") I have to admit to some disappointment upon reading what they said. Given all of the mystery, and all the expense someone obviously went to, I was expecting something a little more profound. (You can read the entire message on the Guidestones here.)
What I find even more baffling about this whole thing is how people have responded to them. New Age types mostly think they're great. Yoko Ono, for example, says they are "a stirring call to rational thinking." Some prominent Christian thinkers, predictably, disagree, one Evangelical minister calling them "The Ten Commandments of the Antichrist." An Atlanta psychic, Naunie Batchelder, predicted as far back as 1981 that they were of alien origin, and their purpose would be revealed "within thirty years." (The aliens had better get on that, as they've only got three and a half months left.)
Conspiracy theorists, of course, think they're just the bee's knees. Mark Dice, whose favorite topics are the Illuminati and the New World Order, believes that they are of "deep Satanic origin," and has demanded that they be "smashed into a million pieces." Dice thinks that somehow the Bilderburg Group were involved with the funding and construction of the Guidestones. A researcher named Van Smith has done some numerological analysis of the Guidestones and claims that they are somehow connected to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, the world's tallest building -- and believes that the dimensions of the Guidestones, when properly manipulated, predicted the date of death of Dubai's emir, Sheik Maktoum bin Rashid al Maktoum. Noted wingnut Alex Jones thinks the Rosicrucians are responsible.
All we need is to somehow get the Knights Templar involved, and we'll have a full house of bizarre explanations.
And, of course, all of these folks have followers, and those followers are happy to take action, when they're not picking at the straps of their straitjackets with their teeth. Chickens have more than once been sacrificed in front of the Guidestones. They are a frequent meeting site for a coven of Wiccans from Atlanta. The Guidestones themselves have been repeatedly defaced, most recently by spray-painted graffiti stating "Death to the New World Order" and "Jesus will beat u satanist." There has been more than one attempt to topple the Guidestones, but given that each of the stone blocks weighs twenty tons, those efforts have been thus far unsuccessful.
So, that's today's little dose of weirdness. Next time I'm in Georgia, I'm going to make an effort to go see these things. Not that I particularly think their message is all that profound -- but just to have had a chance to see, first-hand, what all the fuss is about. And since one of the Guidestones' rules says, "Rule Passion - Faith - Tradition - And All Things With Tempered Reason," I figure I owe them at least that much.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Analyzing anomalous artifacts
When presented with an anomaly, it's pretty critical not to simply accept it as such, but to look more deeply -- and to try to find a scientific explanation if there is one. It is regrettably common to see people jumping at paranormal explanations -- or even non-explanations, just statements of "Wow, that's so weird" -- when a bit of thought and research would have turned up a completely plausible, simple natural explanation.
This comes up because of an article I read about "Anomalous Artifacts." The photograph below shows an imprint, alleged to be of a human shoe, in billion-year-old granite:
The print was discovered by a fellow named James Snyder in 2002, in Cleveland National Forest in California. The article claims that it is "solid proof of time travel" -- the implication being that someone went back in time, wearing a nice pair of men's size 11 wing tips, and left his print in the rock. Is it really a footprint? We'll revisit this claim at the end of this post.
The presence of anomalous objects, prints, and human or animal remains is the subject of the wonderful site Bad Archaeology, which examines a whole host of such claims in a nicely skeptical fashion. As befits critical thinkers, they are up front about the ones that are unexplained - such as the peculiar Nampa figurine, a representation of a human figure made in clay, which was discovered in Nampa, Idaho, in sedimentary strata from the late Pliocene era (2 million years ago), a time during which conventional archaeology suggests there were no hominids in North America. The writers at Bad Archaeology give a variety of possible explanations for how it got there, but they admit that those are speculation.
A famous "anomaly" for which there is a completely convincing natural explanation is the "London hammer," which is an iron hammerhead attached to a broken piece of wooden handle, allegedly found encased in rock that dates to the Cretaceous era (100 to 65 million years ago). Claims began to be made that this was evidence of (1) time travel, or (2) creationism, depending on what version of unscientific silliness you happened to favor. In any case, Hammer Apologists believe that the artifact indicates that there were humans running about back then hammering things and trying to avoid being eaten by dinosaurs. The hammer is now one of the prime exhibits at the Creation Evidence Museum, and in fact you can purchase a lovely replica at the museum's gift shop.
The London hammer was brilliantly debunked by Glen Kuban (read his paper here), and amongst the important points Kuban makes is that (1) carbon-14 tests on the wood from the handle conclusively show that the wood from the handle is under 700 years old, (2) the hammerhead design is identical with 19th century hammers used in the southern United States, and (3) the mineralization around it is consistent with sedimentation and cementation of material around the hammer at a relatively recent date. The Creation Evidence Museum folks aren't backing down (of course), but if this is their evidence for the humans having been around back then, it's pretty thin.
Bad Archaeology examines many other claims for "anomalies," such as:
Now, what about our human shoe print from California? Well, the first thing that came to my mind was that granite was a pretty peculiar place to find a print of any kind. Granite is an igneous rock, and at the point when the material from which it formed was plastic enough to accept a shoe print, it would have been hot enough to melt the shoe and burn its wearer to a crisp. Further, granite does not form on the surface of the Earth -- its large crystals show evidence of slow cooling, and granite outcrops are typically exposed cores of magmatic rock that froze slowly and gradually, deep underground.
So, what is the shoe print, then? I'd have to examine it to be certain, but my brain is just screaming out "Hoax!" Given the impossibility of anyone ever leaving a shoe print in granite, it has to be something else -- either some sort of natural indentation in the rock that happens to resemble the outline of a shoe, or a groove carved into the rock by hoaxers. Either way, I'm not buying that there were time-traveling humans a billion years ago, walking around on molten magma deep underground.
Call me closed-minded, but there you are.
This comes up because of an article I read about "Anomalous Artifacts." The photograph below shows an imprint, alleged to be of a human shoe, in billion-year-old granite:
The print was discovered by a fellow named James Snyder in 2002, in Cleveland National Forest in California. The article claims that it is "solid proof of time travel" -- the implication being that someone went back in time, wearing a nice pair of men's size 11 wing tips, and left his print in the rock. Is it really a footprint? We'll revisit this claim at the end of this post.
The presence of anomalous objects, prints, and human or animal remains is the subject of the wonderful site Bad Archaeology, which examines a whole host of such claims in a nicely skeptical fashion. As befits critical thinkers, they are up front about the ones that are unexplained - such as the peculiar Nampa figurine, a representation of a human figure made in clay, which was discovered in Nampa, Idaho, in sedimentary strata from the late Pliocene era (2 million years ago), a time during which conventional archaeology suggests there were no hominids in North America. The writers at Bad Archaeology give a variety of possible explanations for how it got there, but they admit that those are speculation.
A famous "anomaly" for which there is a completely convincing natural explanation is the "London hammer," which is an iron hammerhead attached to a broken piece of wooden handle, allegedly found encased in rock that dates to the Cretaceous era (100 to 65 million years ago). Claims began to be made that this was evidence of (1) time travel, or (2) creationism, depending on what version of unscientific silliness you happened to favor. In any case, Hammer Apologists believe that the artifact indicates that there were humans running about back then hammering things and trying to avoid being eaten by dinosaurs. The hammer is now one of the prime exhibits at the Creation Evidence Museum, and in fact you can purchase a lovely replica at the museum's gift shop.
The London hammer was brilliantly debunked by Glen Kuban (read his paper here), and amongst the important points Kuban makes is that (1) carbon-14 tests on the wood from the handle conclusively show that the wood from the handle is under 700 years old, (2) the hammerhead design is identical with 19th century hammers used in the southern United States, and (3) the mineralization around it is consistent with sedimentation and cementation of material around the hammer at a relatively recent date. The Creation Evidence Museum folks aren't backing down (of course), but if this is their evidence for the humans having been around back then, it's pretty thin.
Bad Archaeology examines many other claims for "anomalies," such as:
- The Ica stones of Peru, which show artistic depictions of people riding pterodactyls. (Modern fake.)
- The Pliocene fossil shell from England, that has a carving of a human face. (Almost certainly damage from natural processes that resulted in an accidental face-like pattern.)
- The "Coso artifact," supposedly a spark plug embedded in a 500,000 year old geode. (It turns out not to be a geode at all, but a clay concretion, and is probably from the 1920s.)
- The Dendera (Egypt) "technical drawings," which allegedly show an ancient Egyptian handling modern electronic devices such as Crookes tubes. (Easily explainable if you read the hieroglyphic inscription below it, which states outright that the objects in question are a "sun barge," the boat in which the god Ra crosses the sky.)
Now, what about our human shoe print from California? Well, the first thing that came to my mind was that granite was a pretty peculiar place to find a print of any kind. Granite is an igneous rock, and at the point when the material from which it formed was plastic enough to accept a shoe print, it would have been hot enough to melt the shoe and burn its wearer to a crisp. Further, granite does not form on the surface of the Earth -- its large crystals show evidence of slow cooling, and granite outcrops are typically exposed cores of magmatic rock that froze slowly and gradually, deep underground.
So, what is the shoe print, then? I'd have to examine it to be certain, but my brain is just screaming out "Hoax!" Given the impossibility of anyone ever leaving a shoe print in granite, it has to be something else -- either some sort of natural indentation in the rock that happens to resemble the outline of a shoe, or a groove carved into the rock by hoaxers. Either way, I'm not buying that there were time-traveling humans a billion years ago, walking around on molten magma deep underground.
Call me closed-minded, but there you are.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Sanitizing history
An online acquaintance of mine made an interesting statement a couple of days ago.
"The Europeans didn't just bring exploitation and disease to North America, they brought war. The Native Americans didn't even fight wars until after the Europeans arrived."
I asked him how he knew this, and he said he'd read it in a book, and then posted a link from a Yahoo! Answers page. I gave a verbal shrug, and sort of said, "Okay, then," and didn't push the topic any further. But I've been thinking about it ever since.
Why do we need to have certain ethnic groups be characterized by a nearly mythical goodness?
How often have we heard that before the Europeans arrived, the Natives were "in touch with the land," that they respected the Great Spirit, asked animals' permission before hunting, never took more than their fair share of what nature had to offer? And now, this gentleman claims that they also never made war on each other, until the Europeans arrived and taught them to do so. I've heard similar claims made for other groups -- most commonly the Celts, who have also been mythologized to a fare-thee-well, to the point that since the mid-1800s there have been quasi-religious groups of "druids" who have tried to emulate what they think the Celts were doing back then. More recently, the Afrocentrist movement has claimed that all good things came from Africa, and the extreme wing of that school of thought calls dark-skinned people "Sun People" and light-skinned people "Ice People" -- with all of the value judgments that those terms imply.
There are a couple of problems with all of this -- one of them academic, one of them common-sense.
The academic problem is that because all three of those groups left next to no tangible records, we really don't have all that clear a picture of what they were doing before they were contacted by societies who did write things down. And when that contact occurred, the records left weren't exactly unbiased -- it's hard to know how much to believe of (for example) what the Romans wrote about the Celts. Trying to piece together what was going on in the years prior to such contact is decidedly non-trivial, and has to be inferred from archaeological evidence and such indirect evidence as patterns of linguistic distribution.
In preparation for writing this, I tried to find out what was actually known to anthropologists about the nature of society in pre-Columbian North America, and the answer is: surprisingly little. I'm no anthropologist myself, so am unqualified to make a firm judgment, but what did strike me about the papers I read is that they don't even necessarily agree with each other. The tangible artifacts left behind by some groups (e.g. the Pueblo cultures of the US Southwest) seem to suggest a peaceful agricultural existence, but that, too, is a guess. It seems fairly certain that the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) tribes of the Northeastern US did a good bit of fighting with the Algonquian tribes of Eastern Canada -- those groups were "traditional enemies" and apparently were happily beating each other up long before the French and English arrived and made things worse. Certainly the Aztecs, Maya, and Incas of Central and South America were not exactly what you might call peaceful by nature -- stone carvings show Aztec priests ripping the hearts from living sacrificial victims, and at least some of those victims appear from the carvings to have been prisoners of war.
My second objection is purely common sense; while some cultural values seem to me to be better than others, I just don't believe that whole groups of people were somehow "nicer" than others. Consider what a future anthropologist might make of our current "warlike" American culture -- in the last century we have certainly fought a great many times in places around the globe, for a variety of purposes, and during that time have diverted a large percentage of our resources into weaponry and the military. What does that mean about us as a people? My general feeling is "not much." If you look around you, you'll find mean people, nice people, aggressive people, gentle people, and pretty much the gamut of whatever pair of opposite traits you choose. Sure, our militarism is connected to our citizenry -- the military decisions are made by our leaders, who are elected by us -- but a future mythologizer who came up with a concept of American People As Evil Bloodthirsty Imperialists would be missing the truth by a mile. (As would a concept of Americans As Courageous, World-Saving Warriors.)
Please note that I am in no way trying to excuse what our, or any other culture's, militarism actually accomplished. What the Europeans did to the Native Americans, what the British did to the Australian Natives, what the Romans (and later the English) did to the Celts, are tragedies. But the cultures who were the victims of these atrocities were not themselves perfect. It is easy, out of our pity for the losers, to make them into creatures of myth, as having lived in an Eden until the nasty aggressors came in and screwed it up.
As always, reality is complex and messy, and doesn't fit neatly into pigeonholes. It might be appealing to believe that the Celts were the Mystical, Nature-Worshiping People of the Sacred Forest prior to their being beaten to a pulp by a whole succession of cultures. But this is a myth, just like the Native American as Noble Protector of the Environment and the African cultures as warm-hearted, creative Sun People. No culture is perfect, no ethnic group without flaws, and it is only our desire to have an ideal to espouse that makes us ascribe such characteristics to the inhabitants of the past.
"The Europeans didn't just bring exploitation and disease to North America, they brought war. The Native Americans didn't even fight wars until after the Europeans arrived."
I asked him how he knew this, and he said he'd read it in a book, and then posted a link from a Yahoo! Answers page. I gave a verbal shrug, and sort of said, "Okay, then," and didn't push the topic any further. But I've been thinking about it ever since.
Why do we need to have certain ethnic groups be characterized by a nearly mythical goodness?
How often have we heard that before the Europeans arrived, the Natives were "in touch with the land," that they respected the Great Spirit, asked animals' permission before hunting, never took more than their fair share of what nature had to offer? And now, this gentleman claims that they also never made war on each other, until the Europeans arrived and taught them to do so. I've heard similar claims made for other groups -- most commonly the Celts, who have also been mythologized to a fare-thee-well, to the point that since the mid-1800s there have been quasi-religious groups of "druids" who have tried to emulate what they think the Celts were doing back then. More recently, the Afrocentrist movement has claimed that all good things came from Africa, and the extreme wing of that school of thought calls dark-skinned people "Sun People" and light-skinned people "Ice People" -- with all of the value judgments that those terms imply.
There are a couple of problems with all of this -- one of them academic, one of them common-sense.
The academic problem is that because all three of those groups left next to no tangible records, we really don't have all that clear a picture of what they were doing before they were contacted by societies who did write things down. And when that contact occurred, the records left weren't exactly unbiased -- it's hard to know how much to believe of (for example) what the Romans wrote about the Celts. Trying to piece together what was going on in the years prior to such contact is decidedly non-trivial, and has to be inferred from archaeological evidence and such indirect evidence as patterns of linguistic distribution.
In preparation for writing this, I tried to find out what was actually known to anthropologists about the nature of society in pre-Columbian North America, and the answer is: surprisingly little. I'm no anthropologist myself, so am unqualified to make a firm judgment, but what did strike me about the papers I read is that they don't even necessarily agree with each other. The tangible artifacts left behind by some groups (e.g. the Pueblo cultures of the US Southwest) seem to suggest a peaceful agricultural existence, but that, too, is a guess. It seems fairly certain that the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) tribes of the Northeastern US did a good bit of fighting with the Algonquian tribes of Eastern Canada -- those groups were "traditional enemies" and apparently were happily beating each other up long before the French and English arrived and made things worse. Certainly the Aztecs, Maya, and Incas of Central and South America were not exactly what you might call peaceful by nature -- stone carvings show Aztec priests ripping the hearts from living sacrificial victims, and at least some of those victims appear from the carvings to have been prisoners of war.
My second objection is purely common sense; while some cultural values seem to me to be better than others, I just don't believe that whole groups of people were somehow "nicer" than others. Consider what a future anthropologist might make of our current "warlike" American culture -- in the last century we have certainly fought a great many times in places around the globe, for a variety of purposes, and during that time have diverted a large percentage of our resources into weaponry and the military. What does that mean about us as a people? My general feeling is "not much." If you look around you, you'll find mean people, nice people, aggressive people, gentle people, and pretty much the gamut of whatever pair of opposite traits you choose. Sure, our militarism is connected to our citizenry -- the military decisions are made by our leaders, who are elected by us -- but a future mythologizer who came up with a concept of American People As Evil Bloodthirsty Imperialists would be missing the truth by a mile. (As would a concept of Americans As Courageous, World-Saving Warriors.)
Please note that I am in no way trying to excuse what our, or any other culture's, militarism actually accomplished. What the Europeans did to the Native Americans, what the British did to the Australian Natives, what the Romans (and later the English) did to the Celts, are tragedies. But the cultures who were the victims of these atrocities were not themselves perfect. It is easy, out of our pity for the losers, to make them into creatures of myth, as having lived in an Eden until the nasty aggressors came in and screwed it up.
As always, reality is complex and messy, and doesn't fit neatly into pigeonholes. It might be appealing to believe that the Celts were the Mystical, Nature-Worshiping People of the Sacred Forest prior to their being beaten to a pulp by a whole succession of cultures. But this is a myth, just like the Native American as Noble Protector of the Environment and the African cultures as warm-hearted, creative Sun People. No culture is perfect, no ethnic group without flaws, and it is only our desire to have an ideal to espouse that makes us ascribe such characteristics to the inhabitants of the past.
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