Language injection

Two of my biggest interests are genetics and linguistics, so when there's a study that combines the two, it makes my little heart go thumpety-thump.

I found out about a recent one yesterday from a friend and long-time reader of Skeptophilia, and it is a pretty cool intersection between the two fields.  The paper on the research, called "The Arrival of Siberian Ancestry Connecting the Eastern Baltic to Uralic Speakers Further East," was authored by a team led by Lehti Saag of the Department of Evolutionary Biology at the University of Tartu (Estonia), and found that an input of migrants from Siberia into northeastern Europe coincided with the diversification of the Finnic languages (Finnish, Estonian, and Hungarian).  This supports the relationship between the Finnic languages and the Yukaghir languages -- a small family of languages spoken in eastern Siberia.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons ExRat, Finnic languages, CC BY-SA 4.0]

The team came to this conclusion after analyzing the DNA from 33 skeletons dated from 1200 B.C.E. to 1600 C.E., which allowed them to see how the genetics changed due to the infusion of migrants.

What's interesting is when this happened -- the first millennium B.C.E., which is a lot later than I would have expected (not that my opinion means much; my area of linguistic research in graduate school focused on Scandinavian and northern Germanic languages).  The newcomers from Siberia intermarried with the pre-existing western European populations, resulting in today's Finns, Estonians, and Hungarians:

Our findings are consistent with [Bronze-Age Estonia] receiving gene flow from regions with strong Western hunter-gatherer (WHG) affinities and [Iron-Age Estonia] from populations related to modern Siberians.  The latter inference is in accordance with Y chromosome (chrY) distributions in present day populations of the Eastern Baltic, as well as patterns of autosomal variation in the majority of the westernmost Uralic speakers.  This ancestry reached the coasts of the Baltic Sea no later than the mid-first millennium BC; i.e., in the same time window as the diversification of west Uralic (Finnic) languages.  Furthermore, phenotypic traits often associated with modern Northern Europeans, like light eyes, hair, and skin, as well as lactose tolerance, can be traced back to the Bronze Age in the Eastern Baltic.

"Since the transition from Bronze to Iron Age coincides with the diversification and arrival time of Finnic languages in the Eastern Baltic proposed by linguists, it is plausible that the people who brought Siberian ancestry to the region also brought Uralic languages with them," Saag said, in an interview with Science Daily.  "Studying ancient DNA makes it possible to pinpoint the moment in time when the genetic components that we see in modern populations reached the area since, instead of predicting past events based on modern genomes, we are analyzing the DNA of individuals who actually lived in a particular time in the past."

When they merged with the indigenous population, it injected this Siberian DNA signature into a population that already had its own distinct characteristics.  "The Bronze Age individuals from the Eastern Baltic show an increase in hunter-gatherer ancestry compared to Late Neolithic people and also in the frequency of light eyes, hair, and skin and lactose tolerance," said Kristiina Tambets, also of the University of Tartu.  "We see these characteristics continuing amongst present-day northern Europeans."

The coolest thing about this is that a study of DNA extracted from skeletons can shed light on how languages have changed.  I'd love to see this done elsewhere -- especially in places where there are linguistic isolates, which are languages that seem to be unrelated to any other extant languages.  (Examples are Ainu, Basque, Korean, Etruscan, and Vedda.)  These intersections in research have resulted in some fascinating answers to previously unsolved questions -- and show us again that understanding the past is the window to understanding the present.

*************************************

I grew up going once a summer with my dad to southern New Mexico and southern Arizona, with the goal of... finding rocks.  It's an odd hobby for a kid to have, but I'd been fascinated by rocks and minerals since I was very young, and it was helped along by the fact that my dad did beautiful lapidary work.  So while he was poking around looking for turquoise and agates and gem-quality jade, I was using my little rock hammer to hack out chunks of sandstone and feldspar and quartzite and wondering how, why, and when they'd gotten there.

Turns out that part of the country has some seriously complicated geology, and I didn't really appreciate just how complicated until I read John McPhee's four-part series called Annals of the Former World.  Composed of Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain, Rising from the Plains, and Assembling California, it describes a cross-country trip McPhee took on Interstate 80, accompanied along the way with various geologists, with whom he stops at every roadcut and outcrop along the way.  As usual with McPhee's books they concentrate on the personalities of the people he's with as much as the science.  But you'll come away with a good appreciation for Deep Time -- and how drastically our continent has changed during the past billion years.

[Note:  If you order this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds will go to support Skeptophilia!]

My goodness...

In this week's installment of Research I Can Get Behind, we have: some scientists who have figured out why bubble cascades happen in a pint of Guinness.

Being a big fan of the classic Irish dark brew, I've wondered the same thing myself.  When a pint is poured, a good bartender will make sure the patron doesn't drink the beer until it's settled for a minute or two.  This has afforded me the opportunity to observe a very strange thing; the bubbles in Guinness seem to sink rather than float.  I'd always figured that this was an optical illusion of some kind, since the beer definitely clarifies from the bottom upward (and the foam forms at the top), but it's a pretty persistent illusion, so that's where I left it.

Probably also because immediately after considering the question, I have a pint of beer to drink and thus more pressing matters to occupy me.

But according to Tomoaki Watamura, Fumiya Iwatsubo, and Kazuyasu Sugiyama of Osaka University, and Kenichiro Yamamoto, Yuko Yotsumoto, and Takashi Shiono of the Research Laboratory for Beverage Technology (of Yokohama), the bubbles really are sinking.  The authors write:

Following Archimedes’ principle, bubbles in liquid generally rise because of the gas-liquid density difference.  Despite the natural rising behaviour of bubbles, after pouring Guinness beer in a pint glass, the bubbles can be observed to descend.  At the same moment, a vast number of small bubbles with a mean diameter of 50 μm (only 1/10 the size of those in Budweiser or champagne) disperse throughout the entire glass.

The downward motion was explained through convection and drag:

Curiously, although creamy bubbles have been served in Guinness beer for more than half a century, the mystery of such a cascading motion of bubbles has been debated in terms of fluid dynamics ever since.  Because the black colour of Guinness obstructs the physical observation in a glass, computational simulations have been a valuable tool to understand the bubble distribution and motion.  The computational investigation has concluded that when Guinness is poured into a typical pint glass, which widens towards its top, the rising motion of bubbles creates a clear-fluid (bubble-free) film above the inclined wall.  The dense clear-fluid film falls, whereas the bubble-rich bulk rises, which is known as the Boycott effect.  Accordingly, we can observe the descending bubbles entrained into the downward flow in Guinness, which is seemingly paradoxical in light of Archimedes’ principle.

Then they got interested in how the "texture" of the beer appeared to move downward in waves, which couldn't be explained by the bubbles simply being dragged along by downward fluid flow.  They attribute it to roll-wave instability -- the same principle that creates the pulses of rainwater sheeting down a window during a rainstorm.  I have to say that at this point I got lost in the technical details -- despite my bachelor's degree in physics, my comprehension of the mathematics of fluid flow is virtually nil -- so if you want more information, you'll just have to check the paper out for yourself.

Who knew that beer could be that complicated?

But one other thing came out of the study that I found fascinating, and that is that they discovered the optimal tilt angle for pouring a pint -- fifteen degrees from vertical, including the curvature of the glass.  Which probably explains why I have a difficult time pouring a pint without it ending up 90% foam and 10% beer, and having to sit around waiting for twenty minutes while the whole thing simmers down before I can drink it.

So that's our scientific research for today.  Consider that the next time you think that scientists don't know how to have fun.  It's kind of cool to know why the sinking-bubble thing happens, although I'm sure my comprehension of the Watamura et al. paper was rudimentary at best.  Or maybe I should just do my own empirical research.  Nothing like hands-on experimentation.

If you see me tonight at the pub, that's what's going on.

*************************************

I grew up going once a summer with my dad to southern New Mexico and southern Arizona, with the goal of... finding rocks.  It's an odd hobby for a kid to have, but I'd been fascinated by rocks and minerals since I was very young, and it was helped along by the fact that my dad did beautiful lapidary work.  So while he was poking around looking for turquoise and agates and gem-quality jade, I was using my little rock hammer to hack out chunks of sandstone and feldspar and quartzite and wondering how, why, and when they'd gotten there.

Turns out that part of the country has some seriously complicated geology, and I didn't really appreciate just how complicated until I read John McPhee's four-part series called Annals of the Former World.  Composed of Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain, Rising from the Plains, and Assembling California, it describes a cross-country trip McPhee took on Interstate 80, accompanied along the way with various geologists, with whom he stops at every roadcut and outcrop along the way.  As usual with McPhee's books they concentrate on the personalities of the people he's with as much as the science.  But you'll come away with a good appreciation for Deep Time -- and how drastically our continent has changed during the past billion years.

[Note:  If you order this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds will go to support Skeptophilia!]

Into the expanse

Last week, I did a post about dark matter and dark energy -- and how those could potentially drive a reworking of what we know about physics.  Today, there's another finding that is causing some serious head-scratching amongst the physicists:

The universe may be expanding faster than we thought.  Not by a small amount, either.  The difference amounts to about 9%.  Further, this means that the universe might also be younger than we'd thought -- by almost a billion years.

This rather puzzling conclusion is the result of work by a team led by Adam Riess, of Johns Hopkins University.  At issue here is the Hubble constant, the rate of outward expansion of spacetime.  It's not an easy thing to measure.  The usual method has been to use what are called standard candles, which need a bit of explanation.

The difficulty with accurately measuring the distance to the nearest stars is a problem that's been apparent for several centuries.  If two stars are equally bright as seen from Earth, it may be that they're shining at the same luminosity and are the same distance.  It's more likely, however, that they're actually at different distances, but the brighter one is farther away.  But how could you tell?

For the nearest stars, we can use parallax -- the apparent movement of the star as the Earth revolves around the Sun.  Refinements in this technique have resulted in our ability to measure a parallax shift of 10 microarcseconds -- one ten-millionth of 1/3600th of the apparent circumference of the sky.  This translates to being able to measure distances of up to 10,000 light years this way.

But for astronomical objects that are farther away, parallax doesn't work, so you have to rely on something that tells you the star's intrinsic brightness; then you can use that information to figure out how far away it is.  There are two very common ones used:

1. Cepheid variables.  Cepheids are a class of variable stars -- ones that oscillate in luminosity -- that have an interesting property.  The rate at which their brightness oscillates is directly proportional to its actual luminosity.  So once you know how fast it's oscillating, you can calculate how bright it actually is, and from that determine how far away it is.
2. Type 1a supernovae.  These colossal stellar explosions always result in the same peak luminosity.  So when one occurs in a distant galaxy, astronomers can chart its apparent brightness peak -- and from that, determine how far away the entire galaxy is.

A Cepheid variable [Image is in the Public Domain, courtesy of the Hubble Space Telescope]

So the standard candle method has allowed us to estimate the distances to other galaxies, you can combine that information with its degree of red shift (a measure of how fast it's moving away from us) to estimate the rate of expansion of space.

And here's where the trouble lies.  Previous measurements of the rate of expansion of space, made using information such as the three-degree microwave background radiation, have consistently given the same value for the Hubble constant and the same age of the universe -- 13.7 billion years.  Riess's measurement of standard candles in distant galaxies is also giving a consistent answer... but a different one, on the order of 12.8 billion years.

"It’s looking more and more like we’re going to need something new to explain this," Riess said.

John Cromwell Mather, winner of the 2006 Nobel Prize in Physics, was even more blunt.  "There are only two options," Mather said.  "1. We’re making mistakes we can’t find yet. 2. Nature has something we can’t find yet."

"You need to add something into the universe that we don’t know about,” said Chris Burns, an astrophysicist at the Carnegie Institution for Science.  "That always makes you kind of uneasy."

To say the least.  Throw this in with dark matter and dark energy, and you've got a significant piece of the universe that physicists have not yet explained.  It's understandable that it makes them uneasy, since finding the explanation might well mean that a sizable chunk of our previous understanding was misleading, incomplete, or simply wrong.

But it's exciting.  Gaining insight into previously unexplained phenomena is what science does.  My guess is we're awaiting some astrophysicist having a flash of insight and crafting an answer that will blow us all away, much the way that Einstein's insight -- which we now call the Special Theory of Relativity -- blew us away by reframing the "problem of the constancy of the speed of light."  Who this century's Einstein will be, I have no idea.

But it's certain that whoever it is will overturn our understanding of the universe in some very fundamental ways.

*************************************

I grew up going once a summer with my dad to southern New Mexico and southern Arizona, with the goal of... finding rocks.  It's an odd hobby for a kid to have, but I'd been fascinated by rocks and minerals since I was very young, and it was helped along by the fact that my dad did beautiful lapidary work.  So while he was poking around looking for turquoise and agates and gem-quality jade, I was using my little rock hammer to hack out chunks of sandstone and feldspar and quartzite and wondering how, why, and when they'd gotten there.

Turns out that part of the country has some seriously complicated geology, and I didn't really appreciate just how complicated until I read John McPhee's four-part series called Annals of the Former World.  Composed of Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain, Rising from the Plains, and Assembling California, it describes a cross-country trip McPhee took on Interstate 80, accompanied along the way with various geologists, with whom he stops at every roadcut and outcrop along the way.  As usual with McPhee's books they concentrate on the personalities of the people he's with as much as the science.  But you'll come away with a good appreciation for Deep Time -- and how drastically our continent has changed during the past billion years.

[Note:  If you order this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds will go to support Skeptophilia!]

Literal antennas

That loony people have loony ideas is kind of a tautology.  But what amazes me is when other people listen, and continue listening, once the person has established himself as a raving wackmobile.

Today we're referring to Mark Taylor, the self-styled "firefighter prophet," who has already appeared twice here at Skeptophilia.  The first time was back in 2017, when Taylor appeared on the radio program Pass the Salt, and gave us a terrifying warning that the Freemasons and Illuminati are controlling our DNA by making orchestras tune to A = 440 hertz, with the result that we get sick and dislike Donald Trump.  Then last year, he announced that Hurricane Michael was sent to Florida by the Democrats because they were angry over the fact that Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed as a Supreme Court Justice, despite the fact that Kavanaugh wasn't anywhere near Florida at the time.

So there's no reason we'd expect that anything Taylor is saying would be correct, or even make sense.  Despite that, he's still a frequent flier on programs geared to right-wing conspiracy nuts and evangelical Christians, who seem to eat this stuff up.  In fact, last year some people at Liberty University made a movie about Taylor called The Trump Prophecy wherein we find out that Taylor struggled with persistent nightmares caused by the fact that one of his ancestors had been a Freemason, so he had to "rid himself of the generational curse" before he could throw himself into helping to fulfill God's will that Donald Trump had to win the election.

Oh, and the border with Mexico is the site of a "demonic gate" that will only be sealed if Trump builds his border wall.

So a pinnacle of reason and logic this guy isn't.  But this time, he's outdone himself.

Because he appeared last weekend on the evangelical radio program Blessed to Teach with his latest warning, which goes something like the following:

Everything gives off frequencies.  So does God.  When you pray, you're tuning into God's frequency.  But now Satan is using chemtrails to "block God's frequency" so that humans turn into "giant antennas" tuned in to Satan's frequency instead.

How does he know this?  Because, he said, he was researching chemtrails, and he found that they are primarily composed of barium and aluminum.

"The chemtrails, all the spraying is to detract us from hearing God’s frequency," Taylor says.  "They are spraying aluminum and barium in the chemtrails and if you look on the periodic table—barium is BA, aluminum is AL; it spells BAAL.  That’s deep.  That’s no coincidence."

He's right that it's no coincidence.  The symbols for barium and aluminum are "Ba" and "Al" because that's the first two letters of each of their names.

For fuck's sake.

[Image is in the Public Domain]

But Taylor never lets anything like logic get in his way.  "We are literally walking antennas because we’ve been breathing the aluminum, we’ve been breathing the barium," he says.  "We are literally giant antennas, which was intended.  If you want to get really deep on this, these entities that the devil has put down here that these satanist worship or tap into for this knowledge, if you will, they have told them how to do this stuff.  They’ve showed them how to do this stuff for decades, for thousands of years, but they’ve tapped into this stuff about how to clog up man’s ears and eyes to be able to sense and feel God every time you’re walking around."

I hesitate even to lend him any credence by refuting his claim, but the origin of the whole chemtrails idiocy was a guy in Louisiana who collected some dew in a bowl, claimed it was from a jet contrail, and had it tested.  Then he notified a television station, and the reporter mistakenly stated that the amount of barium contained in the water was being measured in parts per million of barium instead of parts per billion, with the result that it appeared the water had a thousand times the amount of barium it actually did.  (The minuscule amount of barium it did contain almost certainly came from airborne dust.)

And that's how chemtrails started, which continueth lo unto this very day.

But the good news is you don't have to worry about "literally turning into a giant antenna."

Anyhow, that's the latest, but almost certainly not the last, from the "firefighter prophet."  Even writing about this is making me wonder if the contrails over my house might be contaminated with beryllium and erbium, because it leaves me feeling like I need a beer.

That's BeEr, you know.

And that's no coincidence.

*************************************

I grew up going once a summer with my dad to southern New Mexico and southern Arizona, with the goal of... finding rocks.  It's an odd hobby for a kid to have, but I'd been fascinated by rocks and minerals since I was very young, and it was helped along by the fact that my dad did beautiful lapidary work.  So while he was poking around looking for turquoise and agates and gem-quality jade, I was using my little rock hammer to hack out chunks of sandstone and feldspar and quartzite and wondering how, why, and when they'd gotten there.

Turns out that part of the country has some seriously complicated geology, and I didn't really appreciate just how complicated until I read John McPhee's four-part series called Annals of the Former World.  Composed of Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain, Rising from the Plains, and Assembling California, it describes a cross-country trip McPhee took on Interstate 80, accompanied along the way with various geologists, with whom he stops at every roadcut and outcrop along the way.  As usual with McPhee's books they concentrate on the personalities of the people he's with as much as the science.  But you'll come away with a good appreciation for Deep Time -- and how drastically our continent has changed during the past billion years.

[Note:  If you order this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds will go to support Skeptophilia!]

Color commentary

The "what colors do you see in this photograph?" thing is back with us, only instead of a dress, this time it's a shoe.

Personally, I see this shoe as gray and a sort of turquoise-greenish-blue, but apparently there are people who see it as pink and white.  What's certain is that once you see it a particular way, you can't somehow see it the other way, as you can with flip-flop illusions like the famous duck and rabbit.

What's different about the claims floating around this time is that supposedly, the fact that I see it as gray and green means I'm a left-brain, logical, sequential, concrete type, and the people who see it as pink and white are right-brain creative, holistic, abstract thinkers.  The problem with this is that a 2017 study at the University of Utah concluded that there is nothing to the right-vs.-left brain dichotomy, at least insofar as personality is concerned.  "It is certainly the case that some people have more methodical, logical cognitive styles, and others more uninhibited, spontaneous style," said Jeffrey Anderson, a neuroscientist who co-authored the study.  "This has nothing to do on any level with the different functions of the [brain's] left and right hemisphere."

It is true that people do tend to have a dominant side of the brain, and this can influence you physically -- for example, what hand you write with and which eye is dominant.  I know on brain-dominance tests I tend to score right in the middle -- left on some tasks, right on others.  When I was in kindergarten I switched which hand I wrote with about a dozen times, till my frustrated teacher told me to simmer down and pick one, for pity's sake, so I ended up right handed.  But I still do a lot of things with my left hand, and probably would be considered mixed-brain dominant.

But the point here is, it has nothing whatsoever to do with my personality, nor with how I perceive color.

The unfortunate part is that this simplistic and inaccurate account of the gray/green vs. pink/white split ignores the fact that we do have a possible explanation for why this happens, and it's actually a good bit more interesting than "you're a right-brained creative type."  The reason seems to be that we evaluate and interpret colors by comparison with their context, not in any sense the "absolute color" of the object (which, as you'll see, is a meaningless concept).  As a rather startling illustration of this, how would you compare the color saturation of the two squares marked A and B in the drawing below?

Nearly everyone is absolutely convinced that A is a lot darker than B, but the fact is, they're exactly the same shade of gray.  The reason your brain made the decision that they're different -- a decision that, even once you know what's going on, is damn near impossible to shake -- is that you interpret B as if it were in a shadow, so in order to appear the shade it is, it must be inherently lighter.  If A and B were observed in the same level of light (your brain says), B would have to be lighter.

Even more striking is the image below:

I'm sure you've already figured out that the band in the middle is all the same shade of gray -- which you can prove to yourself by blocking out the background with a piece of paper.  But as I said, once your brain has made the decision that it's a gradient, it's impossible to compromise.

You do the same thing with colors.  Here's an example -- and once again, A, B, and C are all exactly the same color:

You get the point.  The thing is, you're doing this all the time without being aware of it, and once you have settled on what you're seeing, your brain won't admit it's wrong.  The same is happening with the shoes.  You decide which part of the image to compare the color to, and interpret every other color in the image on the basis of that decision.

We still don't know why some people settle on gray/green and others on pink/white.  But it has nothing to do with which side of the brain is dominant, nor whether you're creative or logical.  It has to do with our faulty method for integrating the data coming from our eyes.  It works well enough most of the time, sure; but when it fails, it fails spectacularly.

So feel free to repost the shoe pic and ask your friends which they see, but kindly don't attribute any differences to your favored side of the brain.  Instead, think about what's really going on here -- which, honestly, is far more interesting.

*************************************

I grew up going once a summer with my dad to southern New Mexico and southern Arizona, with the goal of... finding rocks.  It's an odd hobby for a kid to have, but I'd been fascinated by rocks and minerals since I was very young, and it was helped along by the fact that my dad did beautiful lapidary work.  So while he was poking around looking for turquoise and agates and gem-quality jade, I was using my little rock hammer to hack out chunks of sandstone and feldspar and quartzite and wondering how, why, and when they'd gotten there.

Turns out that part of the country has some seriously complicated geology, and I didn't really appreciate just how complicated until I read John McPhee's four-part series called Annals of the Former World.  Composed of Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain, Rising from the Plains, and Assembling California, it describes a cross-country trip McPhee took on Interstate 80, accompanied along the way with various geologists, with whom he stops at every roadcut and outcrop along the way.  As usual with McPhee's books they concentrate on the personalities of the people he's with as much as the science.  But you'll come away with a good appreciation for Deep Time -- and how drastically our continent has changed during the past billion years.

[Note:  If you order this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds will go to support Skeptophilia!]

Spam, spam, spam, spam, eggs, and spam

Yesterday I got a spam reply on one of my old Skeptophilia posts.

It happens pretty often, and I usually just ignore them, being that (1) I'm not stupid enough to reply, and (2) I have no particular interest in black-market anabolic steroids, penis growth pills, or helping out exiled Nigerian princes.  But this one was so funny that I read it aloud to a student of mine who happened to be hanging around, and we both had a good enough laugh that I thought I should share it here.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Cypher789, Spam 2, CC BY-SA 3.0]

So here it is, along with some interspersed editorial comments from yours truly.

ATTENTION TO THE WHOLE WORLD:

Not just me, eh? You want the whole world's attention?  That's pretty ambitious.

Hello and blessed are you who found me.

Well, you found me, technically.  But hello back atcha.

My name is DR SHAKES SPEAR, and am here to help you change and transform your life in the most positive way possible.

Is that William Shakes Spear?  Huh.  I thought you had Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil four centuries ago.  Shows you what I know.

I use the power of white, black craft and Wicca and voodoo spell casting to help people just like you they get the love they want and the money they deserve.

Did you even read my blog, bro?  You are seriously barking up the wrong tree.

My love spell offer amazing and quick results.  Do you want to find your soulmate?

Already have, thanks.

Do you want to reunite with a past lover and make him or her love you again?

Merciful heavens above, no.  My past lovers are past for a reason.

Do you need to bind a troublemaker from causing problems in your relationship?

Unless you count the fact that my dog takes up way more than his fair share of the bed, I think I'm fine in that regard.

With my spell casting service, I can cast a love spell on your behalf that will help all of your wishes and dreams come true.  I also do other custom spells, such as money spells, job spells, friendship spells, and good luck spells.

Versatile, that's you!  But you have to wonder why, if you can just cast money spells, you are trying to bilk cash from a poor struggling writer.

You may have already tried the power of spells and prayers to get what you want.

No, "hard work" and "a reasonable supply of brainpower" have always worked for me.

Although it is true that everyone has the ability to cast spells and perform magic, spell casting is like a muscle.  Everyone have this 'muscle' but the more you use it, the stronger it gets, and the more things you are able to do with it.

Well, that's a mighty fine sales pitch.  However, the muscle it mostly made me think of was the gluteus maximus, because you seem to be talking out of your ass.

If you are not an experienced spell caster, your spell may not be as strong, and the results not as quick as you may desire.  GET YOUR PROBLEMS SOLVE HERE AND BE FREE!!

Ooh, I can't wait for my problems to be solve!

Hello to people that want to be Great,

Hi there.

Note: This Spell casting do not have any effect on any one, But just to get your problem solve ok.

Ok.  But if it do not have any effect on any one, how the hell do it get my problem solve?

Get your problem solve in master... You can get the bellow problems solve here.

Yes, those bellow problems can be a bitch, it's true.

1. Bring back lost lover, even if lost for a long time

Cf. my previous comment about lost lovers.  They can stay lost, thanks.

2. Remove bad spells from homes, business & customer attraction etc.

Now you're talking.  If you could cast a spell that would make 9th graders less annoying, I'd be much obliged.

3. Get promotion you have desired for a long time at work or in your career.

Promotion?  To what, administrator?  That'd be a big "nope."  If I had to choose between becoming an administrator and receiving a colonoscopy from Edward Scissorhands, I'd have to think about it.

4. Remove the black pot that keeps on taking your money away

So that's where it's going!

5. Find out why you are not progressing in life and the solution

If you could progress one of my novels to "bestseller" status, I'd take back everything I said about you.

6. Ensure excellent school grades even for children with mental disabilities

Who needs the Common Core, when you have Dr. Shakes Spear?

7. I destroy and can send back the Nikolos if request

I'm not going to request, because I have no idea what the fuck that even means.

8. We heal barrenness in women and bad issue and disturbing menstruation

I'm disturbed just thinking about this one.

9. Get you marriage to the lover of your choice

Too late, because I got me marriage to her all by myself.  But it's a nice offer.

10. Guarantee you win the troubling court cases & divorce no matter how what stage

Shouldn't #10 come before #9?  Just saying, you know, as a pitch.  As is it seems like getting the cart before the horse.

11. Mental illness & bewitched

What about them?

12. Extreme protection for those doing dangerous jobs like security guards, Bank manager, cash transporters, etc

Not teachers, eh?  No "extreme protection" for us?  Just your ordinary, garden-variety protection?

I can help you, and I want to help you.  Read through my words and CONTACT ME VIA:shakesspear23@yahoo.com OR shakesspear23@gmail.com AS MY POWERS ARE SO STRONG AND VERY EFFECTIVE AND HAS NO BAD EFFECT INSTEAD IT HAVE A VERY GOOD RESULT AFTER CASTING THE SPELL.

Maybe you should work on a spell for getting your caps lock unstuck.

So, there you have it.  A tasty meal of spam, courtesy of Dr. Shakes Spear.  I strongly recommend against sending anything to the email addresses, because of course that only would alert Dr. Spear that (s)he has a fish on the line, and pretty likely result in your being inundated by further offers.  So unless you have a particular need for steroids or penis growth pills, or are feeling a sudden desire to help down-on-their-luck Nigerian princes, it's probably best just to press "delete" and forget about it.

*************************************

I grew up going once a summer with my dad to southern New Mexico and southern Arizona, with the goal of... finding rocks.  It's an odd hobby for a kid to have, but I'd been fascinated by rocks and minerals since I was very young, and it was helped along by the fact that my dad did beautiful lapidary work.  So while he was poking around looking for turquoise and agates and gem-quality jade, I was using my little rock hammer to hack out chunks of sandstone and feldspar and quartzite and wondering how, why, and when they'd gotten there.

Turns out that part of the country has some seriously complicated geology, and I didn't really appreciate just how complicated until I read John McPhee's four-part series called Annals of the Former World.  Composed of Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain, Rising from the Plains, and Assembling California, it describes a cross-country trip McPhee took on Interstate 80, accompanied along the way with various geologists, with whom he stops at every roadcut and outcrop along the way.  As usual with McPhee's books they concentrate on the personalities of the people he's with as much as the science.  But you'll come away with a good appreciation for Deep Time -- and how drastically our continent has changed during the past billion years.

[Note:  If you order this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds will go to support Skeptophilia!]

An exercise in futility

I'm going to ask a question, not because I'm trying to lead my readers toward a particular answer, but because I honestly don't know the answer myself.

To what extent are we ethically obligated to confront strangers on social media who post immoral or offensive claims?

I ask this because this morning I saw a post by a friend of a distant relative on Facebook stating that "the origin of homosexuality is in pedophilia."  First of all, this is factually wrong; there probably are some homosexuals who are pedophiles, but they're no more common among the LGBTQ population than they are among the cis-heterosexuals.  But worse, this is vile homophobia, implying that there is an equivalence between a loving, committed relationship between two adults of the same sex, and a person of either sex harming or abusing a child.

So I wrote, "this is bullshit."

The response came back almost immediately: "Typical libtard excuses for the immorality that is destroying America."

I answered, "You want research showing that there's no connection between homosexuality and pedophilia?  I can provide it."

The response: "Why would I be convinced by pro-gay atheistic scientists?  They are hand-in-glove with the queers anyhow."

At that point, I gave up.

This is troubling from a plethora of angles.  Not only does this person espouse ugly bigotry, she has decided that anything contrary to her views must be a "libtard" opinion motivated by a desire to destroy America's moral fiber.  She's successfully insulated herself from ever discovering she's wrong.  About anything.  Further, this enables her to write off anyone who disagrees with her as a dupe at best and actively evil at worst.

So the argument I got into was an exercise in futility, which I knew it would be from the outset.  Someone who would post what she did isn't going to have their views changed by a nasty exchange with a total stranger.  All it did was raise both of our blood pressures and leave us more firmly entrenched in what we already believed.

But does that mean we shouldn't try?

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons David Shankbone creator QS:P170,Q12899557, Anger during a protest by David Shankbone, CC BY-SA 3.0]

That doesn't set well with me, either.  If you don't challenge evil when you see it, what good are your moral convictions?  It also bears consideration that my antagonist is not the only person who saw the back-and-forth.  Presumably a lot of people read what we wrote -- and interestingly, not a single person, including my (very conservative and religious) cousin, decided to weigh in.  It may be that one of them was on the fence, and seeing his or her unexamined views expressed in such a blatantly vicious fashion caused some level of reconsideration.

But I don't know.  I detest conflict, and am the last person who would seek out a battle just for the hell of it.  Also, I can say that when I've engaged in this kind of thing with a stranger, it has resulted in an exactly zero percent success rate of moving the person who posted the initial comment.  So was it worth the unpleasantness?

I honestly don't know.  It felt a great deal like tilting at windmills to me.  But like I said, with some things staying silent really isn't an option.

If anyone has any better perspective on this, I'd love to hear it, either privately or in the comments section.  Because right now, I'm feeling pretty despondent about ever convincing anyone of anything -- even when their views are immoral, unfair, bigoted, or demonstrably false.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is for any of my readers who, like me, grew up on Star Trek in any of its iterations -- The Physics of Star Trek by Lawrence Krauss.  In this delightful book, Krauss, a physicist at Arizona State University, looks into the feasibility of the canonical Star Trek technology, from the possible (the holodeck, phasers, cloaking devices) to the much less feasible (photon torpedoes, tricorders) to the probably impossible (transporters, replicators, and -- sadly -- warp drive).

Along the way you'll learn some physics, and have a lot of fun revisiting some of your favorite tropes from one of the most successful science fiction franchises ever invented, one that went far beyond the dreams of its creator, Gene Roddenberry -- one that truly went places where no one had gone before.