In a move that may well cost me my Skeptic's Card, I've made an appointment to see an acupuncturist.
No, wait, let me 'splain!
For about two years, I have shown many of the symptoms of early rheumatoid arthritis. I have joint pain (particularly my neck, knees, hips, and occasionally fingers and shoulders), and prior to a bad episode I get a tingly, sensitive feeling in the skin over the joint that's about to get hit. Often during those pre-pain periods, I'm unusually tired. Plus, I have a family history of it - my mother and a great aunt both had rheumatoid arthritis, and I recall my mom describing exactly those symptoms, and at about the same age as I am now.
Despite this, my doctor doesn't believe that I'm developing RA, because a blood test came up negative for the antibodies. (Never mind that I found out that many RA cases are negative for the antibodies in the first five years.) Despite my symptoms and my family history, she wouldn't give me a referral to the only rheumatologist in the area, and my last two checkups have come with questions about how my joints are doing, followed with a patronizing, "Yeah, it sucks getting old, doesn't it?" when I tell her they hurt like hell sometimes.
Anyhow, given that my doctor has been less than sympathetic, I'm fishing around for other options. Up till now, mainly what I did is limp around, act irritable, and swear a lot, which caused more than one of my students to compare me with Dr. House. But I figured that this isn't a long-term solution, so I've begun to think of alternate approaches.
I've had five different people recommend acupuncture to me. Now, allow me to point out that we're not talking about credulous woo-woos here -- they include three teachers (two of them science teachers) and a friend of mine who is one of the smartest people I know. All of them prefaced their recommendations with, "I know this sounds crazy, but..." and went on to describe their own experiences with acupuncture, which were overwhelmingly positive.
I know, I know. I don't believe in qi, energy meridians, chakras, or all the rest. No, I have no idea how it could possibly work. In researching the topic, both for this post and for more personal reasons, I found that most of the peer-reviewed studies on acupuncture have generated results that are described as "equivocal" -- which at least is better than nonsense like homeopathy, which has never generated anything but negative results, every time it's been researched. I was actively looking for confirmation bias in the papers I read -- and it seemed like the researchers did everything right. Even "equivocal" results for something as weird as acupuncture is pretty amazing.
So, anyhow, I decided to try it. There's a well-recommended acupuncturist in Ithaca, and I thought, "what do I have to lose?" Other than some money, that is, and possibly the respect of my readers. But then, I thought, "Hey, I'm a skeptic, and that means an open mind. Let's approach this in an experimental fashion. Go in with no expectations one way or the other, and see what happens. I could even report the results in Skeptophilia. It could be interesting."
After all, what's the worst that could happen? Besides the fact that my skin will be full of holes, that is. I doubt that it could make my arthritis any worse, and there's a chance I may have a less-equivocal positive result -- and wouldn't that be nice? I would sure like not to hobble around any more, and to do something about my neck, which often sounds like Rice Krispies when I turn my head. I'd have to reconsider my Halloween costume -- I was simply going to stop shaving for a few days, mess my hair up, wear my lab coat with a pill bottle in the front pocket, and hang a stethoscope around my neck. Then I was going to be obnoxiously sarcastic to everyone. It won't be quite as awesome if I don't have the game leg, but I might still be able to make it work.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Piety, hypocrisy, and politics
We have been for some months in the midst of the part circus, part boxing match, part popularity contest that we here in the US call the “2012 presidential election.” Recently, the top candidates from both sides of the aisle have been trampling each other to claim primacy in being Jesus’s bestest best friend ever, and to establish that although their own faiths are the result of years of prayer, careful consideration, and rational thought, their rivals’ faiths are degenerate superstitions that will at the very least result in laws being passed requiring the daily sacrifice of fluffy bunnies on the altar of Ba’al.
The latest include the efforts by Mitt Romney to appear like a regular ol' Christian, which were ostensibly intended both to placate the Religious Right and to calm down the Agnostic Left, convincing both simultaneously that Mitt is all about Christian Family Values but won’t attempt to recreate the United States based upon the ideals of Brigham Young. It has been compared to JFK’s speech that was targeted at the Protestant Establishment to encourage them to believe (and apparently it was successful) that Washington wasn’t going to get transformed into Vatican West.
And despite the Rush to Faith by the candidates, all of them are also taking great pains to establish that they won’t try to impose their religious views on the public at large or use them as a basis for legislature. My immediate question on hearing this was, “how can they not?”
Rick Perry, despite his disingenuous dodging of the issue, is a young-earth creationist. He is also an Evangelical who was the prime mover behind a statewide "Day of Prayer" in Texas. Put yourself in his shoes; as president, how could he possibly avoid using his opinions to frame policy? If you honestly, truly, and sincerely believed that the earth is 7,000 years old, that destruction of a fertilized egg is murder because it already has an immortal soul, and that homosexuality is an abomination in god’s eyes, how could that not influence your policymaking? Michele Bachmann, at least, is up front about her Dominionist views, bringing up god in political speeches with amazing frequency. Witness this direct quote, from a 2004 rally in which she was exhorting a Minnesota crowd to vote for a same-sex marriage ban amendment:
Putting candidates in the position of having to assure potential voters that they won’t use their faith to steer their decisions is basically encouraging them to be out-and-out hypocrites. I can respect Romney’s stance at least from the standpoint of appreciating his commitment not to try to convert the whole populace of the US to Mormonism, but when he says, “No candidate should become the spokesman for his faith, for if he becomes president he will need the prayers of the people of all faiths," he is really voicing a pious impossibility.
The checks-and-balances in the government are there to keep one person, or one branch of government, from placing an indelible stamp on the course the country is taking, but there is no way that the president’s faith (or lack thereof) will not influence legislation, despite his or her voiced commitment to keep religion out of politics. We must all be on our guard, listen and read closely what the candidates say, and in the end, caveat emptor.
The latest include the efforts by Mitt Romney to appear like a regular ol' Christian, which were ostensibly intended both to placate the Religious Right and to calm down the Agnostic Left, convincing both simultaneously that Mitt is all about Christian Family Values but won’t attempt to recreate the United States based upon the ideals of Brigham Young. It has been compared to JFK’s speech that was targeted at the Protestant Establishment to encourage them to believe (and apparently it was successful) that Washington wasn’t going to get transformed into Vatican West.
And despite the Rush to Faith by the candidates, all of them are also taking great pains to establish that they won’t try to impose their religious views on the public at large or use them as a basis for legislature. My immediate question on hearing this was, “how can they not?”
Rick Perry, despite his disingenuous dodging of the issue, is a young-earth creationist. He is also an Evangelical who was the prime mover behind a statewide "Day of Prayer" in Texas. Put yourself in his shoes; as president, how could he possibly avoid using his opinions to frame policy? If you honestly, truly, and sincerely believed that the earth is 7,000 years old, that destruction of a fertilized egg is murder because it already has an immortal soul, and that homosexuality is an abomination in god’s eyes, how could that not influence your policymaking? Michele Bachmann, at least, is up front about her Dominionist views, bringing up god in political speeches with amazing frequency. Witness this direct quote, from a 2004 rally in which she was exhorting a Minnesota crowd to vote for a same-sex marriage ban amendment:
Listeners should rejoice right now, because there are believers all across your listening area that are praying now. And I would say that if you can’t attend the rally, you can pray. And God calls us to fall on our faces and our knees and cry out to Him and confess our sins. And I would just ask your listeners to do that now. Cry out to a Holy God. He wants to hear us, He will hear us if we will confess our sins and cry out to Him. Our children are worth it and obedience to God demands it.While I (obviously) disagree with her views, maybe she's less hypocritical than the rest of them -- at least she's clear about what she believes, and unafraid to admit it in front of a crowd. (You have to wonder if that's also why even the conservatives have been distancing themselves from her lately.)
Putting candidates in the position of having to assure potential voters that they won’t use their faith to steer their decisions is basically encouraging them to be out-and-out hypocrites. I can respect Romney’s stance at least from the standpoint of appreciating his commitment not to try to convert the whole populace of the US to Mormonism, but when he says, “No candidate should become the spokesman for his faith, for if he becomes president he will need the prayers of the people of all faiths," he is really voicing a pious impossibility.
The checks-and-balances in the government are there to keep one person, or one branch of government, from placing an indelible stamp on the course the country is taking, but there is no way that the president’s faith (or lack thereof) will not influence legislation, despite his or her voiced commitment to keep religion out of politics. We must all be on our guard, listen and read closely what the candidates say, and in the end, caveat emptor.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Another rant about education
Tomorrow, our school district will have what is called a "Superintendent's Conference Day." What this means is that students don't have to be here (which generated much rejoicing amongst the student body), and the teachers and support staff will spend the entire day in meetings. This year, the meetings will revolve around implementing the state standards for education.
This has also been the topic of probably half of the superintendent's conference days I've attended in my 25 year career.
The "state standards" are outlines describing what information and skills students should be able to master in each class and at each grade level. They're amazingly vague. For example, one of the high school standards in biology (they changed the name of the subject ten years ago to "Living Environment," but I steadfastly refuse to comply):
Question: Why do living organisms have basic biochemical processes?
Correct answer: Because they are important in maintaining dynamic equilibrium.
If this was a multiple choice question, it would be accompanied by obviously ridiculous wrong answers, such as "So they can have an unlimited life span." Note as well that you don't have to have any specific mastery of content in order to get this question right; in order to finesse this test, all you have to do recognize jargon. Last year I did not have a single student fail the state exam in biology, and this includes the student who while labeling a diagram of a human body incorrectly indicated that the anus was located on the left arm.
I wish I were making this up.
Increasingly, the standards are becoming vaguer, while simultaneously the notion of "progress" is becoming more data-driven. We're trying to turn everything into numbers. Just yesterday, we had the first of seven faculty meetings this year, the thrust of which will be to consider the topic of grading. This isn't just in our school; statewide, the professional b-b stackers at the State Education Department in Albany are assigning numbers to all of us, and that includes the teachers and school administrators. Yes, I will receive a grade at the end of the year. No, I don't particularly give a damn what grade I get, because honestly, it's meaningless. We go on and on about how "feedback needs to provide information to students about what they did incorrectly, and how to improve" -- and the people at State Ed are going to take my entire year and collapse it into: "86." If I get an 84 next year, am I regressing?
More and more, I'm convinced that the upper-level administration in state departments of education, and the federal Department of Education, have no idea what they're doing. We write new standards, rename courses, come up with new formulas for grading, scoring exams, and scoring teachers, and it hasn't made one grain of difference to how well the actual act of educating children is conducted in classrooms on a day-to-day basis. Most of us get jaded; we go to the meetings and conference days, write stuff on sheets of butcher paper with brightly colored sharpie markers, discuss the results at our tables, and then go back to school the following day without a single thing being changed -- except that the powers-that-be, most of whom haven't seen the inside of a classroom in twenty years, think that they've actually accomplished something.
So, tomorrow, I'll probably be a good boy and go to all the meetings and try to do what they want me to do. Just once before I retire, however, I'd like to actually do what I've been wanting to do for years -- to stand up in one of those meetings and ask the presenter, "How, precisely, is this supposed to benefit my students? I want specifics -- not some airy-fairy 'Refining the standards helps you to frame curriculum development in the context of measurable outcomes.' And if you can't answer that question, get the hell out of here and stop wasting my time and our school district's money."
This has also been the topic of probably half of the superintendent's conference days I've attended in my 25 year career.
The "state standards" are outlines describing what information and skills students should be able to master in each class and at each grade level. They're amazingly vague. For example, one of the high school standards in biology (they changed the name of the subject ten years ago to "Living Environment," but I steadfastly refuse to comply):
- explain the basic biochemical processes in living organisms and their importance in maintaining dynamic equilibrium.
Question: Why do living organisms have basic biochemical processes?
Correct answer: Because they are important in maintaining dynamic equilibrium.
If this was a multiple choice question, it would be accompanied by obviously ridiculous wrong answers, such as "So they can have an unlimited life span." Note as well that you don't have to have any specific mastery of content in order to get this question right; in order to finesse this test, all you have to do recognize jargon. Last year I did not have a single student fail the state exam in biology, and this includes the student who while labeling a diagram of a human body incorrectly indicated that the anus was located on the left arm.
I wish I were making this up.
Increasingly, the standards are becoming vaguer, while simultaneously the notion of "progress" is becoming more data-driven. We're trying to turn everything into numbers. Just yesterday, we had the first of seven faculty meetings this year, the thrust of which will be to consider the topic of grading. This isn't just in our school; statewide, the professional b-b stackers at the State Education Department in Albany are assigning numbers to all of us, and that includes the teachers and school administrators. Yes, I will receive a grade at the end of the year. No, I don't particularly give a damn what grade I get, because honestly, it's meaningless. We go on and on about how "feedback needs to provide information to students about what they did incorrectly, and how to improve" -- and the people at State Ed are going to take my entire year and collapse it into: "86." If I get an 84 next year, am I regressing?
More and more, I'm convinced that the upper-level administration in state departments of education, and the federal Department of Education, have no idea what they're doing. We write new standards, rename courses, come up with new formulas for grading, scoring exams, and scoring teachers, and it hasn't made one grain of difference to how well the actual act of educating children is conducted in classrooms on a day-to-day basis. Most of us get jaded; we go to the meetings and conference days, write stuff on sheets of butcher paper with brightly colored sharpie markers, discuss the results at our tables, and then go back to school the following day without a single thing being changed -- except that the powers-that-be, most of whom haven't seen the inside of a classroom in twenty years, think that they've actually accomplished something.
So, tomorrow, I'll probably be a good boy and go to all the meetings and try to do what they want me to do. Just once before I retire, however, I'd like to actually do what I've been wanting to do for years -- to stand up in one of those meetings and ask the presenter, "How, precisely, is this supposed to benefit my students? I want specifics -- not some airy-fairy 'Refining the standards helps you to frame curriculum development in the context of measurable outcomes.' And if you can't answer that question, get the hell out of here and stop wasting my time and our school district's money."
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Beasts in the east
For any of my readers who happen to live in Russia, you should consider attending the International Yeti Festival that is occurring this week in Tashtagol.
The whole thing is being organized by Igor Burtsev, who runs the "Yeti Institute" at Kemerovo State University. I didn't know that some universities had departments of yetiology, did you? Seems like they wouldn't have much to do, given that the object of their study has never left behind any actual evidence other than a few footprints and some fuzzy film footage. But somehow, Burtsev is being taken seriously enough that investigators from six countries are gathering to share their evidence at the International Centre for Hominology in Tashtagol. Maybe he garners a little extra credibility because he looks a great deal like Papa Lenin:
Be that as it may, Burtsev is understandably excited, because he claims that his home of Kemerovo is a hotbed of Yeti activity. He believes that there's a tribe of thirty or so Yetis in the area. (What do you call a group of Yetis? A shriek of Yetis? A lope of Yetis? A squatch of Yetis?) They are, Burtsev says, the surviving remnants of the Neanderthals, and are notorious for sneaking onto people's farms and stealing sheep and chickens.
This isn't the only recent attempt to track down the Russian answer to Bigfoot. A couple of months ago, Russian heavyweight boxer Nikolai Valuyev led a much-publicized expedition into the wilds of central Russia. After stomping around the place for several days with a camera crew, all they found as evidence were "some broken branches" and "a few enormous footprints." Valuyev wasn't discouraged by the fact that he didn't find the Yeti, however; he's still sure they're out there.
At this point, perhaps I should show you a photograph of Valuyev.
He may have a somewhat personal reason for wanting to find the Yetis, if you get my drift. The guy is seven-foot-two, and his nickname is "The Beast from the East."
In any case, the Yeti Conference should prove interesting. It is, the news release said, the first conference of its kind since 1958, and will result in sharing all sorts of secret documents from the Cold War. Me, I thought the Soviets had better things to do during the Cold War than amass information on Yetis, but what do I know? The more time they spent wandering around looking for "enormous footprints," the less time they had to spy on us.
Anyhow, here's another thing that I'd definitely attend, if I could -- along with the ghosthunting classes in England and the workshop where you learn how to be a shapeshifter in Costa Rica. So much to do, so little time.
The whole thing is being organized by Igor Burtsev, who runs the "Yeti Institute" at Kemerovo State University. I didn't know that some universities had departments of yetiology, did you? Seems like they wouldn't have much to do, given that the object of their study has never left behind any actual evidence other than a few footprints and some fuzzy film footage. But somehow, Burtsev is being taken seriously enough that investigators from six countries are gathering to share their evidence at the International Centre for Hominology in Tashtagol. Maybe he garners a little extra credibility because he looks a great deal like Papa Lenin:
Be that as it may, Burtsev is understandably excited, because he claims that his home of Kemerovo is a hotbed of Yeti activity. He believes that there's a tribe of thirty or so Yetis in the area. (What do you call a group of Yetis? A shriek of Yetis? A lope of Yetis? A squatch of Yetis?) They are, Burtsev says, the surviving remnants of the Neanderthals, and are notorious for sneaking onto people's farms and stealing sheep and chickens.
This isn't the only recent attempt to track down the Russian answer to Bigfoot. A couple of months ago, Russian heavyweight boxer Nikolai Valuyev led a much-publicized expedition into the wilds of central Russia. After stomping around the place for several days with a camera crew, all they found as evidence were "some broken branches" and "a few enormous footprints." Valuyev wasn't discouraged by the fact that he didn't find the Yeti, however; he's still sure they're out there.
At this point, perhaps I should show you a photograph of Valuyev.
He may have a somewhat personal reason for wanting to find the Yetis, if you get my drift. The guy is seven-foot-two, and his nickname is "The Beast from the East."
In any case, the Yeti Conference should prove interesting. It is, the news release said, the first conference of its kind since 1958, and will result in sharing all sorts of secret documents from the Cold War. Me, I thought the Soviets had better things to do during the Cold War than amass information on Yetis, but what do I know? The more time they spent wandering around looking for "enormous footprints," the less time they had to spy on us.
Anyhow, here's another thing that I'd definitely attend, if I could -- along with the ghosthunting classes in England and the workshop where you learn how to be a shapeshifter in Costa Rica. So much to do, so little time.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The wrath of Pat
Last week, I commented that politics was the only venue where you could make a statement that was demonstrably false, continue to defend it, and not lose your credibility. It may therefore not be a coincidence that in the job of political commentator, you can make statements that are neither true nor false, but completely insane, and people will keep listening to you.
I'm referring, of course, to Reverend Pat Robertson, who is wildly popular despite being crazy as a bedbug. And I don't think that people are listening to him for the humor value, either, the way people will sometimes read Ann Coulter just because they can't wait to hear what she's going to blame liberals for next (I have money that eventually she'll find out a way to blame liberals for the Black Death). With Pat, though, I have a feeling that the people who listen to him mostly agree with what he's saying, which is a scary thing, given that he's said the following:
Be that as it may, Pat's latest pronouncements are still making news, and this time he's turned his Roving Rant Machine onto the subject of Halloween. Halloween is often a sticky subject with evangelicals, who don't like its occult origins. You'd think, however, that sooner or later they'd relax about it, now that it's turned into little more than a day for kids to wear plastic Buzz Lightyear masks with eyeholes that don't line up, wander around in the dark being followed by parents who would really much rather be home watching television, and collect enough candy to meet the diabetes needs of the nation for another ten years. All pretty innocent, no?
No. Christians shouldn't participate in Halloween, Pat says, because "Halloween is Satan's night. It's the night for the devil." He goes on to say that, "we (Christians) don't believe in hauntings, we don't believe in ghosts, we don't believe in all that stuff," and then in the same breath follows it up with, "(Halloween) is skeletons, it's like, it's the dead rising."
So, let me get this straight; you don't believe in ghosts, but you do believe in the dead rising?
Of course, it's not the first time that a prominent evangelical has spoken vehemently against Halloween. Two years ago, Kimberley Daniels of the Christian Broadcasting Network implied that not only was Satan abroad on Halloween, even the candy wasn't safe:
In any case, I find it baffling that people listen to these people, and downright astonishing that anyone believes it. On the other hand, is it really so inconsistent with what the bible actually says? One thing you have to say for people like Robertson and Daniels: they walk the talk. The bible is full of stories of people, and sometimes entire cities, who did something naughty in god's eyes and got the crap smitten out of them. God had no problem with the righteous killing the unrighteous, including unrighteous infants ("Happy the man who takes your babies and smashes them against a rock!" [Psalm 137:9]) Natural disasters were always attributed to "god's will." Demons and evil spirits were everywhere.
So, honestly, once you decide that the bible is literally true, it's a reasonable result that you'll believe all of this sort of stuff. Reverend Pat is just the furthest reaches of the logical chain that begins with the assumption, "the bible is god's revealed truth." It is perhaps the rest of the Christians that have some 'splainin' to do.
I'm referring, of course, to Reverend Pat Robertson, who is wildly popular despite being crazy as a bedbug. And I don't think that people are listening to him for the humor value, either, the way people will sometimes read Ann Coulter just because they can't wait to hear what she's going to blame liberals for next (I have money that eventually she'll find out a way to blame liberals for the Black Death). With Pat, though, I have a feeling that the people who listen to him mostly agree with what he's saying, which is a scary thing, given that he's said the following:
- The Haitian earthquake was a "blessing from god" because the Haitians had sworn a pact with the devil during the French Revolution.
- Be careful about studying martial arts, because in some martial arts traditions the practitioners "inhale demon spirits" prior to working out.
- Hurricane Katrina was sent by god to "teach a lesson to the American people" because they support laws that allow abortion.
- Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon suffered a massive stroke because god was punishing him for his negotiating with the Palestinians.
- We should nuke the US Department of State and send in covert operatives to assassinate Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez.
Be that as it may, Pat's latest pronouncements are still making news, and this time he's turned his Roving Rant Machine onto the subject of Halloween. Halloween is often a sticky subject with evangelicals, who don't like its occult origins. You'd think, however, that sooner or later they'd relax about it, now that it's turned into little more than a day for kids to wear plastic Buzz Lightyear masks with eyeholes that don't line up, wander around in the dark being followed by parents who would really much rather be home watching television, and collect enough candy to meet the diabetes needs of the nation for another ten years. All pretty innocent, no?
No. Christians shouldn't participate in Halloween, Pat says, because "Halloween is Satan's night. It's the night for the devil." He goes on to say that, "we (Christians) don't believe in hauntings, we don't believe in ghosts, we don't believe in all that stuff," and then in the same breath follows it up with, "(Halloween) is skeletons, it's like, it's the dead rising."
So, let me get this straight; you don't believe in ghosts, but you do believe in the dead rising?
Of course, it's not the first time that a prominent evangelical has spoken vehemently against Halloween. Two years ago, Kimberley Daniels of the Christian Broadcasting Network implied that not only was Satan abroad on Halloween, even the candy wasn't safe:
During Halloween, time-released curses are always loosed. A time-released curse is a period that has been set aside to release demonic activity and to ensnare souls in great measure ... During this period demons are assigned against those who participate in the rituals and festivities. These demons are automatically drawn to the fetishes that open doors for them to come into the lives of human beings. For example, most of the candy sold during this season has been dedicated and prayed over by witches. I do not buy candy during the Halloween season. Curses are sent through the tricks and treats of the innocent whether they get it by going door to door or by purchasing it from the local grocery store. The demons cannot tell the difference.Given the volume of candy sold during October, I wonder how the candy manufacturers manage to curse it all. They must employ thousands of witches, working round the clock, saying satanic prayers like mad over moving conveyor belts. I guess the witches have to pray quickly, or they'll back up the whole process, and end up flinging un-cursed candy about in the manner of Lucille Ball.
In any case, I find it baffling that people listen to these people, and downright astonishing that anyone believes it. On the other hand, is it really so inconsistent with what the bible actually says? One thing you have to say for people like Robertson and Daniels: they walk the talk. The bible is full of stories of people, and sometimes entire cities, who did something naughty in god's eyes and got the crap smitten out of them. God had no problem with the righteous killing the unrighteous, including unrighteous infants ("Happy the man who takes your babies and smashes them against a rock!" [Psalm 137:9]) Natural disasters were always attributed to "god's will." Demons and evil spirits were everywhere.
So, honestly, once you decide that the bible is literally true, it's a reasonable result that you'll believe all of this sort of stuff. Reverend Pat is just the furthest reaches of the logical chain that begins with the assumption, "the bible is god's revealed truth." It is perhaps the rest of the Christians that have some 'splainin' to do.
Monday, October 3, 2011
A rip in Canadian space-time
I know it's kind of ridiculous to make generalizations about a whole country, but I'd always had this feeling that Canadians were, on the whole, pretty sensible folks. Oh, you had your odd crank like Dennis Markuze ("Mabus"), sending out 458 gazillion emails per week to anyone who publicly identified him/herself as a skeptic, but that was the exception.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I ran across the publication The Canadian. From the name, you'd expect the main stories to revolve around hockey, how to avoid grizzly bears, and other essentials of Canadian life. Instead, I find therein headlines such as the following:
"Global Economy and Human Evolution Don't Go Together"
"Scientists Find Extraterrestrial Genes in DNA"
"9/11 Hijackers Miraculously Brought Back to Life, Says Japanese Democratic Party"
"The Romantic Striptease!"
So, I guess what this turns out to be is sort of a Canadian version of The Weekly World News.
I'd like to look at one article from The Canadian more closely, and no, don't get your hopes up, it's not going to be "The Romantic Striptease!" For one thing, this is a PG-13 rated blog. For another, between the blackflies and mosquitoes and the fact that in most parts of Canada is seldom gets over 50 degrees, I would think that a Canadian version of a romantic striptease would be fast, involve large quantities of insect repellent, and end with both parties huddled under a quilt shivering.
The one I want to look at is, "Extraterrestrial War of the 1930s Altered Human Consciousness Of Itself Into A Destructive Timeline." (You can read the whole article here.) I didn't know about any extraterrestrial war in the 1930s, did you? There certainly doesn't seem to be much about it in the history books. That's to be expected, says Alex Collier, the originator of this idea; the Great War of the 1930s resulted in our being pushed into some kind of alternate dimension, and the aliens wiped our memory of the event, so now our history is proceeding in a way that it was never intended to do. It's kind of like the episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation wherein the Starship Enterprise enters a rip in the space-time continuum. Space-time seems to have an awful lot of these rips, given the fact that the Starship Enterprise ran smack into one every couple of weeks or so. Each time, though, they acted as if it was a great big surprise, as if this had never ever happened before, and it always seemed to take Geordi LaForge until the third commercial break to figure it out despite the fact ordinary non-Starfleet members like myself had it figured out in the first five minutes. Anyway, in this particular episode, they ended up in a universe where the Klingons and the Federation had never become allies, and they were in a terrible war, blowing each other up right and left. It turned out that the only way to make it all better was if Tasha Yar died again, an event that happened only slightly less often than running into rips in the space-time continuum.
But I digress.
Anyhow, Collier is convinced that the aliens who perpetrated this atrocity need to be exposed, so he's written a book called Defending Sacred Ground which describes how most of what we're told about aliens is disinformation spread by the aliens themselves. Also, by the bye, he believes that both creationism and evolution are alien propaganda. He knows all this, he says, because he was contacted by "Ethical Extraterrestrials" from the Andromeda Galaxy, and they want us to show up the bad aliens for being the villains they are, so they told Collier how to tell the alien propaganda from the truth. If we can just get enough people to understand what's happened, he says, it will allow us to get back into our proper time line without even having to kill Tasha Yar. We can do this, he says, because we're on the "Eleventh Density" (whatever the hell that means), and we are capable of "a very large area of spiritual evolvement."
All of which makes perfect sense, as long as you've spent the last half-hour doing sit-ups underneath parked cars.
The whole thing leaves me feeling a little dazed, and wondering if I might not have been better off analyzing "The Romantic Striptease!" after all.
In any case, I guess it's just as well to find out that Canada has its share of wingnuts. I was all too aware of our American assortment, and it really was a little ridiculous of me to think that the USA had cornered the market. I'm quite sure, however, that just like here in the States, the majority of Canadian citizens are reasonably smart, rational, and sensible people, so I won't judge you based on people like Collier and Markuze if you'll promise not to judge us based on people like Michele Bachmann and Alex Jones.
Deal?
Imagine my surprise, then, when I ran across the publication The Canadian. From the name, you'd expect the main stories to revolve around hockey, how to avoid grizzly bears, and other essentials of Canadian life. Instead, I find therein headlines such as the following:
"Global Economy and Human Evolution Don't Go Together"
"Scientists Find Extraterrestrial Genes in DNA"
"9/11 Hijackers Miraculously Brought Back to Life, Says Japanese Democratic Party"
"The Romantic Striptease!"
So, I guess what this turns out to be is sort of a Canadian version of The Weekly World News.
I'd like to look at one article from The Canadian more closely, and no, don't get your hopes up, it's not going to be "The Romantic Striptease!" For one thing, this is a PG-13 rated blog. For another, between the blackflies and mosquitoes and the fact that in most parts of Canada is seldom gets over 50 degrees, I would think that a Canadian version of a romantic striptease would be fast, involve large quantities of insect repellent, and end with both parties huddled under a quilt shivering.
The one I want to look at is, "Extraterrestrial War of the 1930s Altered Human Consciousness Of Itself Into A Destructive Timeline." (You can read the whole article here.) I didn't know about any extraterrestrial war in the 1930s, did you? There certainly doesn't seem to be much about it in the history books. That's to be expected, says Alex Collier, the originator of this idea; the Great War of the 1930s resulted in our being pushed into some kind of alternate dimension, and the aliens wiped our memory of the event, so now our history is proceeding in a way that it was never intended to do. It's kind of like the episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation wherein the Starship Enterprise enters a rip in the space-time continuum. Space-time seems to have an awful lot of these rips, given the fact that the Starship Enterprise ran smack into one every couple of weeks or so. Each time, though, they acted as if it was a great big surprise, as if this had never ever happened before, and it always seemed to take Geordi LaForge until the third commercial break to figure it out despite the fact ordinary non-Starfleet members like myself had it figured out in the first five minutes. Anyway, in this particular episode, they ended up in a universe where the Klingons and the Federation had never become allies, and they were in a terrible war, blowing each other up right and left. It turned out that the only way to make it all better was if Tasha Yar died again, an event that happened only slightly less often than running into rips in the space-time continuum.
But I digress.
Anyhow, Collier is convinced that the aliens who perpetrated this atrocity need to be exposed, so he's written a book called Defending Sacred Ground which describes how most of what we're told about aliens is disinformation spread by the aliens themselves. Also, by the bye, he believes that both creationism and evolution are alien propaganda. He knows all this, he says, because he was contacted by "Ethical Extraterrestrials" from the Andromeda Galaxy, and they want us to show up the bad aliens for being the villains they are, so they told Collier how to tell the alien propaganda from the truth. If we can just get enough people to understand what's happened, he says, it will allow us to get back into our proper time line without even having to kill Tasha Yar. We can do this, he says, because we're on the "Eleventh Density" (whatever the hell that means), and we are capable of "a very large area of spiritual evolvement."
All of which makes perfect sense, as long as you've spent the last half-hour doing sit-ups underneath parked cars.
The whole thing leaves me feeling a little dazed, and wondering if I might not have been better off analyzing "The Romantic Striptease!" after all.
In any case, I guess it's just as well to find out that Canada has its share of wingnuts. I was all too aware of our American assortment, and it really was a little ridiculous of me to think that the USA had cornered the market. I'm quite sure, however, that just like here in the States, the majority of Canadian citizens are reasonably smart, rational, and sensible people, so I won't judge you based on people like Collier and Markuze if you'll promise not to judge us based on people like Michele Bachmann and Alex Jones.
Deal?
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Death cauldrons and aerial dogfights
There are certain pieces of terrain that are just peculiar. We tend to give them evocative names, because they are evocative; and this often leads people to attribute their formation to some seriously crazy causes.
Take the Mima Mounds, in Thurston County, Washington.
They're a little creepy-looking, no? The mounds average about twenty to thirty feet across, and are roughly circular -- and there are hundreds of them. It's a seriously atmospheric place, conducive to all sorts of woo-woo explanations -- some people believe that the Mima Prairie, where the mounds are located, is haunted, presumably by ghosts who are obsessive-compulsive landscapers.
There are other features which seem too regular to be natural -- take the glacial feature called a cirque, which takes the form of an often perfectly-circular lake:
Cirques form because they are at the origins of glaciers, so experience pressure and consequent erosive forces radiating out from a central point - if the contour of the land will allow it, it results in a nearly perfectly circular depression.
Arches, pinnacles, balancing rocks, channeled scablands... natural forces can result in some amazingly cool, and sometimes bafflingly symmetrical, structures. No need to conjure up any kind of woo-woo explanation.
Of course, this doesn't mean that humans can't be involved, too. When I was in Iceland, I visited a place called "Viti." Viti is a beautiful, circular blue lake, which would have been peaceful had it not been for the jet-engine roar of a steam vent nearby. The vent was surrounded by a high fence, and had a sign on it, in various languages, which said (as near as I can recall the wording):
I bring all this up because of a recent article (read the whole thing here) about the Siberian "death cauldrons." Speaking of evocative names. It turns out that there are circular depressions in the ground in many places in Siberia, and legends about those places being "evil," and various stories about people going there and dying horrible deaths. There is talk of metal debris and mysterious underground bunkers.
What, pray tell, is the cause of all of this mayhem? We have the following proposals:
1) It was an area used for nuclear testing during the Soviet era.
2) It is the pock-marked battlefield left behind when two hostile alien species had an aerial battle in spaceships.
Well. I know it's hard for me to decide, given the fact that both theories are both pretty darned persuasive. The proponents of the alien theory have going for them that the natives of the area claim that they've seen powerful, fire-wielding beings coming from the sky for centuries, and as I was mentioning to Thor just yesterday, you know how accurate the such myths and legends tend to be. The other thing they point out is that it has to be aliens, because it was right next door in the province of Krasnoyarsk Krai that they had the Tunguska Event, where an alien spacecraft blew up in 1908 and flattened trees radially for miles around.
Well, okay, technically it's only "right next door" if by that phrase you mean "1,500 km away," and almost everyone who's studied the Tunguska Event thinks that it was a small fragment of a comet that hit the Earth. But still! Alien spacecraft! Aerial dogfights! Crash landings, leaving circular depressions in the ground, and scattered radioactive debris that poisons the landscape and anyone foolish enough to visit! C'mon, don't you think so? Don't you?
Okay, maybe not. But you have to admit that as an explanation, it does have more panache than "the Soviets blew up some nuclear bombs there, and never cleaned up their mess or even admitted that they'd done it."
Take the Mima Mounds, in Thurston County, Washington.
They're a little creepy-looking, no? The mounds average about twenty to thirty feet across, and are roughly circular -- and there are hundreds of them. It's a seriously atmospheric place, conducive to all sorts of woo-woo explanations -- some people believe that the Mima Prairie, where the mounds are located, is haunted, presumably by ghosts who are obsessive-compulsive landscapers.
There are other features which seem too regular to be natural -- take the glacial feature called a cirque, which takes the form of an often perfectly-circular lake:
Cirques form because they are at the origins of glaciers, so experience pressure and consequent erosive forces radiating out from a central point - if the contour of the land will allow it, it results in a nearly perfectly circular depression.
Arches, pinnacles, balancing rocks, channeled scablands... natural forces can result in some amazingly cool, and sometimes bafflingly symmetrical, structures. No need to conjure up any kind of woo-woo explanation.
Of course, this doesn't mean that humans can't be involved, too. When I was in Iceland, I visited a place called "Viti." Viti is a beautiful, circular blue lake, which would have been peaceful had it not been for the jet-engine roar of a steam vent nearby. The vent was surrounded by a high fence, and had a sign on it, in various languages, which said (as near as I can recall the wording):
Get the hell away from this vent, you stupid tourist. This vent produces superheated steam, and if for some reason the machinery controlling its release were to fail, you would be cooked by a jet of steam before you could even turn to your wife and say, "Hey, Blanche, come take a picture of me next to this sign!"The reason for all the caution was, I discovered, because the machinery had failed, about ten years before we went there, and the resulting explosion had thrown a piece of the rigging with such force that it landed a kilometer away. Apparently the crater left behind by the explosion of the vent machinery was a circular hole in the ground, out of which came water vapor at about 3,000 C. At that point, Icelandic geologists decided to leave well enough alone, and simply put a diverter over the hole, so that the steam is vented high enough in the air that it won't cook the tourists.
I bring all this up because of a recent article (read the whole thing here) about the Siberian "death cauldrons." Speaking of evocative names. It turns out that there are circular depressions in the ground in many places in Siberia, and legends about those places being "evil," and various stories about people going there and dying horrible deaths. There is talk of metal debris and mysterious underground bunkers.
What, pray tell, is the cause of all of this mayhem? We have the following proposals:
1) It was an area used for nuclear testing during the Soviet era.
2) It is the pock-marked battlefield left behind when two hostile alien species had an aerial battle in spaceships.
Well. I know it's hard for me to decide, given the fact that both theories are both pretty darned persuasive. The proponents of the alien theory have going for them that the natives of the area claim that they've seen powerful, fire-wielding beings coming from the sky for centuries, and as I was mentioning to Thor just yesterday, you know how accurate the such myths and legends tend to be. The other thing they point out is that it has to be aliens, because it was right next door in the province of Krasnoyarsk Krai that they had the Tunguska Event, where an alien spacecraft blew up in 1908 and flattened trees radially for miles around.
Well, okay, technically it's only "right next door" if by that phrase you mean "1,500 km away," and almost everyone who's studied the Tunguska Event thinks that it was a small fragment of a comet that hit the Earth. But still! Alien spacecraft! Aerial dogfights! Crash landings, leaving circular depressions in the ground, and scattered radioactive debris that poisons the landscape and anyone foolish enough to visit! C'mon, don't you think so? Don't you?
Okay, maybe not. But you have to admit that as an explanation, it does have more panache than "the Soviets blew up some nuclear bombs there, and never cleaned up their mess or even admitted that they'd done it."
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