Holy chemtrails, Batman!

If there's one thing I've learned from nine years of writing here at Skeptophilia, it's that there is no idea so weird that someone can't alter it so as to make it way weirder.

On Saturday, we looked at the woman in Japan who is convinced that the way to get rid of pesky ghosts is to buy a high-quality air purifier.  This would put ghosts in the same class as indoor air pollutants and that greasy smell left behind when you fry bacon, which is not how I'd like to be remembered by my nearest and dearest.  "Gordon's back!  Turn on the air purifier!" is not what I'd want to hear, if I was a ghost.

But according to a Roman Catholic bishop in Colombia, there's another way to get rid of evil spirits.  Have an airplane fly over and create a "chemtrail"...

... out of holy water.

I'm not making this up, but I kind of wish I was, because I did some repeated headdesks while researching this post while trying to find out if it was actually true or the result of someone trying to trap me (and others) in Poe's Law.  Sadly, it appears that the whole thing is real.  Monsignor Rubén Darío Jaramillo Montoya, bishop of the city of Buenaventura, is distressed by the unpleasant stuff that goes on down in this port city of 340,000 inhabitants.  So far this year there have been 51 murders, says Monsignor Montoya, which is double what occurred during an equal-length time interval last year.  So the only answer is to douse the entire city in holy water, to "take out these demons that are destroying the city's port."

[Image is in the Public Domain]

Amazingly enough, the powers-that-be in Buenaventura are all-in on this idea, and plan on spraying the city on July 13 or 14.   "In Buenaventura we have to get rid of the devil to see if we return the tranquility that the city has lost with so many crimes, acts of corruption with so much evil and drug trafficking that invades our port," a church representative told reporters.

There's no doubt that Buenaventura is kind of a mess.  Besides the murders, which are certainly shocking enough, there's the fact that it's a major hub of the drug trade (especially of cocaine) heading north to the United States.  Efforts by the government to clean the place up have been largely ineffective, and a lot of the city is controlled more by the Cali cartel than it is by law enforcement and elected officials.

On the other hand, mass exorcisms to get rid of crime and drug trafficking have been tried before, and the results were fairly unimpressive.  Back in 2015, Mexican "renowned exorcist" Father José Antonio Fortea organized an "Exorcismo Magno" to evict the demons that were behind all the murders and mayhem and drug trade, and as far as I can tell Mexico is still as dangerous as it ever was.  So as far as I can tell, exorcisms aren't that great a solution to crime and drug trafficking, ranking right behind building a wall to stop the Bad Hombres from getting in.

So sadly, loading up holy water in a crop duster isn't likely to do much, either.  I suppose it falls into the "no harm if it amuses you" department, although it must be said these sorts of "thoughts and prayers"-type solutions are problematic in that they give people the impression that you're doing something when you really aren't.

But that's not going to stop Monsignor Montoya and the rest of the Holy Chemtrails Squad from doing their thing the second week of July.  I'm just as glad I won't be there when it happens.  If I got sprayed with holy water, I'd probably spontaneously combust, which would be unpleasant for me, even if it might be entertaining for any onlookers.

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Richard Dawkins is a name that often sets people's teeth on edge.  However, the combative evolutionary biologist, whose no-holds-barred approach to young-Earth creationists has given him a well-deserved reputation for being unequivocally devoted to evidence-based science and an almost-as-well-deserved reputation for being hostile to religion in general, has written a number of books that are must-reads for anyone interested in the history of life on Earth -- The Blind Watchmaker, Unweaving the Rainbow, Climbing Mount Improbable, and (most of all) The Ancestor's Tale.

I recently read a series of essays by Dawkins, collectively called A Devil's Chaplain, and it's well worth checking out, whatever you think of the author's forthrightness.  From the title, I expected a bunch of anti-religious screeds, and I was pleased to see that they were more about science and education, and written in Dawkins's signature lucid, readable style.  They're all good, but a few are sheer brilliance -- his piece, "The Joy of Living Dangerously," about the right way to approach teaching, should be required reading in every teacher-education program in the world, and "The Information Challenge" is an eloquent answer to one of the most persistent claims of creationists and intelligent-design advocates -- that there's no way to "generate new information" in a genome, and thus no way organisms can evolve from less complex forms.

It's an engaging read, and I recommend it even if you don't necessarily agree with Dawkins all the time.  He'll challenge your notions of how science works, and best of all -- he'll make you think.

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

Who ya gonna call? DustBuster!

While I've always wanted to have a direct experience of something supernatural, I have to admit that a lot of the options aren't that attractive.  I'd love to be contacted by an alien, but being abducted and having the traditional examination of my body via various orifices doesn't sound like much fun.  Some of the interactions people have had with various cryptids haven't ended all that well, and a few have resulted in one or more people being strewn in tiny bits over a large geographical area.  And while establishing the veracity of psychic communication would be cool, I'm not really all that keen on there being honest-to-goodness telepaths.

I'm pretty sure that what goes on in my mind on a daily basis isn't all that different from what goes on in others' minds, but even so, I really would prefer not to have my every thought potentially becoming public knowledge.

Then there's ghosts.  No one would be happier than me to find out that there's an afterlife, and I'd love to have the opportunity to have another chat with my paternal grandma, not least because I'd like to ask her about her wonderful chocolate fudge recipe, that I've tried unsuccessfully for years to recreate.  I have questions for various other ancestors, too, not to mention curiosity about historical figures.

But there's the inevitable downside, which is that if there are ghosts, and they choose to take up dwelling in your house, there isn't much you can do about it other than a full-on exorcism, which seems like overkill to me, kind of like using a flamethrower to kill a housefly.  So it was a bit of a relief to find out that a Japanese woman has discovered that if you're visited by a troublesome spirit, and want to get rid of it, all you have to do is...

... turn on an air purifier.

[Image is in the Public Domain]

I'm not making this up, and the woman who made the claim (known only as "Shinuko") seems fairly earnest about it herself.  Shinuko says:

When I first moved into the apartment I’m living in now, there were a lot of strange happenings that really freaked me out.  But then I got a (Sharp) Plasmacluster air purifier, and it all completely stopped.  I did some research on ghosts, and I found out that ghosts are kind of like plasma.  Isn’t it amazing that air purifiers can not only clean the air but also exorcise ghosts?

"Amazing" isn't the first word that came to my head when I read this, but that's just me.  The Sharp Plasmacluster is indeed an air purifier, which allegedly works as follows:

Ions are dispersed into the air.  Positive and negative ions are created using water vapor in the air.  Ions actively attach to and break down pollutants.  The ions neutralize their charge by pulling apart airborne pollutants, thereby reducing the pollutants in the air.  [Afterwards] the ions return to the air as invisible water vapor.

Amongst the things this is supposed to take care of (according to the website) are bacteria, mold spores, viruses, and molecules causing bad odors.

The website mentions nothing about ghosts, and you have to wonder how that would work anyhow.  If the Plasmacluster's ions stick to things, wouldn't that create a static charge?  As far as I can tell this would result in the ghost stuck to your ceiling in the fashion of a balloon you've rubbed against your shirt, which seems kind of counterproductive.  Not only would that mean the ghost would still be hanging around (literally, in this case), it'd probably be really pissed off.

I know I'd feel that way if I were a ghost and suddenly found myself stuck next to the dining room chandelier.

My own doubts aside, there were a lot of members of the Twitterverse who were fully in support of Shinuko's idea.  Here are a few of their responses:

• Yesterday my bedroom light turned on and off on its own and I couldn’t sleep by myself. Maybe I’ll buy a Plasmacluster.
• Even in ancient times, it was popular to purify places with salt and alcohol, and sometimes they had an anti-bacterial function, too.  In today’s Reiwa period we can use high-tech gadgets to exorcise and purify instead!
• Maybe the air was stagnant. When you move into a building that isn’t new, sometimes, even if there wasn’t an accident or something, traces of the person who lived there before can remain in the form of spirits and souls.

Then there was the person who said that if you're troubled by ghosts, you don't need to shell out five hundred bucks for a Plasmacluster, all you need is... a bottle of Febreze:

Apparently a horror game company kept hearing mysterious sounds in their office.  They stopped after they aired out the office and used Febreze.  Changing the air is really important.

Just for the record, bolstering a crazy claim with an even crazier claim is not really all that successful as a strategy for convincing people.  If someone says they've rid their house of evil spirits using magic ash wand, it's probably not going to be helpful if you mention that you had once achieved the same results using a plastic spork.

But if you think an air purifier might help you with your ghost problem, I encourage you to have at it.  If you end up with my grandma stuck to your ceiling, give me a call.  Maybe I can get her to tell me her fudge recipe before she figures out how to get herself loose.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a little on the dark side; Jared Diamond's riveting book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Starting with societies that sowed the seeds of their own destruction -- such as the Easter Islanders, whose denuding of the landscape led to island-wide ecological collapse -- he focuses the lens on the United States and western Europe, whose rampant resource use, apparent disregard for curbing pollution, and choice of short-term expediency over long-term wisdom seem to be pushing us in the direction of disaster.

It's not a cheerful book, but it's a very necessary one, and is even more pertinent now than when it was written in 2005.  Diamond highlights the problems we face, and warns of that threshold we're approaching toward catastrophe -- a threshold that is so subtle that we may well not notice it until it's too late to reverse course.

[If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Puppy dog eyes

Conversation between Carol and me a few days ago:

Me:  Honey, I think Guinness is sad. 

Carol:  Sad?  What does he have to be sad about?  He spends his whole day sleeping, playing, and eating. 

Me:  I dunno.  But just look at him.

Carol:  That's not sad, he just wants something. 

Me:  See?  He needs something.  That's what's making him sad. 

Carol:  He's just manipulating you. 

Me:  Is not. 

Carol:  Is too.  That dog has you wrapped around his little paw. 

Me:  [to Guinness]  I'm sorry, buddy.  I guess Mommy just doesn't love you as much as I do. 

Guinness:  *heavy sigh* 

Carol:  *eyeroll*

Turns out, much as I hate to admit it, a piece of research that came out in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences last week suggests that Carol is probably correct.  In "Evolution of Facial Muscle Anatomy in Dogs," by Juliane Kaminski, Bridget M. Waller, Rui Diogo, Adam Hartstone-Rose, and Anne M. Burrows, we learn that since domestication, dogs have experienced significant evolution of one specific set of muscles, as compared to wolves.  The authors write:

Domestication shaped wolves into dogs and transformed both their behavior and their anatomy. Here we show that, in only 33,000 years, domestication transformed the facial muscle anatomy of dogs specifically for facial communication with humans.  Based on dissections of dog and wolf heads, we show that the levator anguli oculi medialis, a muscle responsible for raising the inner eyebrow intensely, is uniformly present in dogs but not in wolves.  Behavioral data, collected from dogs and wolves, show that dogs produce the eyebrow movement significantly more often and with higher intensity than wolves do, with highest-intensity movements produced exclusively by dogs.  Interestingly, this movement increases paedomorphism [retention of juvenile-appearing characteristics] and resembles an expression that humans produce when sad, so its production in dogs may trigger a nurturing response in humans.  We hypothesize that dogs with expressive eyebrows had a selection advantage and that “puppy dog eyes” are the result of selection based on humans’ preferences.

It's not really manipulation, though, unless you call our nurturing reaction toward little children manipulation; we're evolutionarily programmed to nurture our offspring for obvious reasons.  What's interesting is that the nurturing instinct -- our reaction to round faces with large eyes and comparatively small noses, ears, and chins -- has been more or less accidentally transferred to other animals, which is why we ooh and aah over puppies, kittens, bear cubs, and so on.

What's interesting in my case -- and Carol's, too, actually, although she might hesitate to admit it -- is that we have a much stronger positive reaction to puppies than we do to children.  When family friends came over with their six-month-old baby a year ago, and asked me if I wanted to hold the baby, my reaction was:  "Um... sure."  *takes baby*  "Um... hi, baby.  You're cute.  Wow, what a cute baby."  *quickly hands baby back to the parents*

If it'd been a puppy, though?  I'd have been on the floor rolling around with the puppy and completely ignoring our friends, except insofar as to consider how I might successfully steal the puppy without their noticing.  I can't pass a dog on the street without asking the owner if it's okay if I say hi.  And dogs, for their part, seem to take to me immediately.

Kids, though?  Not so much.  Probably a lot of it is that they sense my awkwardness, but for whatever cause, dogs generally like me way more than people do.

So I guess Carol has a point about Guinness's sad look.  He's probably not really sad, he just knows when he uses it, he'll get what he wants.  Now,  y'all'll have to excuse me, because I need to go... um... outside for...  a reason.  Yes, I have a tennis ball in my hand.  That's just a coincidence.   Maybe I'll have some use for it later.  You never know when a tennis ball might come in handy.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a little on the dark side; Jared Diamond's riveting book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Starting with societies that sowed the seeds of their own destruction -- such as the Easter Islanders, whose denuding of the landscape led to island-wide ecological collapse -- he focuses the lens on the United States and western Europe, whose rampant resource use, apparent disregard for curbing pollution, and choice of short-term expediency over long-term wisdom seem to be pushing us in the direction of disaster.

It's not a cheerful book, but it's a very necessary one, and is even more pertinent now than when it was written in 2005.  Diamond highlights the problems we face, and warns of that threshold we're approaching toward catastrophe -- a threshold that is so subtle that we may well not notice it until it's too late to reverse course.

[If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Dark arrow

The more we find out about how the universe works, the weirder it gets.

We've come a long way from Isaac Newton's vision of a mechanistic "clockwork cosmos" -- where everything is governed by a handful of simple mathematical laws, and where if you knew the mass, velocity, and acceleration of every particle in the universe, you could backtrack that knowledge and find out everything that had happened in the past, or extrapolate it and figure out everything that will happen in the future.  The one-two punch of relativity and quantum mechanics put paid to that idea; because of phenomena like nonlocality, entanglement, quantum indeterminacy, and the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, it turns out that this isn't even theoretically possible.

But the weirdness doesn't end there, and every time it looks like we're getting closer to a Theory of Everything, after which all that'll be left is filling in the details, we find something else that doesn't fit with what we know, that requires us to modify our understanding.  The latest is the discovery of dark matter and dark energy, which together far outweigh the mass of the entire universe's collection of ordinary matter and energy by a significant margin.  We don't know what either of those are, how (or if) they interact with ordinary matter other than gravitationally, and what abstruse laws of physics might govern their properties.  In other words, we know virtually nothing about them at all.  All we see is the gravitational pull they exert on the matter around them, like a shadow somehow cast by an otherwise-invisible figure standing near you.

Astrophysicists recently got another piece of the puzzle, and the discovery was presented at last week's annual meeting of the American Astronomical Society.  After analysis of a stream of stars in our own galaxy, astronomer Ana Bonaca of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics found evidence that its movement had been altered by a "close encounter with a massive and dense perturber" -- meaning that a clump of dark matter swept through it, creating a slingshot effect that altered the stars' trajectories and flung them out of the stream.

The most amazing part is the size and speed of this dark arrow that shot its way through our galaxy.  According to Bonaca's data, the dark matter blob was equivalent to five million solar masses, and was traveling at 800,000 kilometers per hour.  No wonder it disrupted things.  But despite this, Bonaca calls this clump "slow-moving" -- which seems ridiculous until you recall that light travels at 300,000 kilometers per second.  So as fast as Bonaca's stream disrupter was moving, it was still only traveling at 1/1350 of the speed of light.

"Only."

Bonaca admits that there could have been other causes than dark matter, but still thinks that her explanation is the most plausible.  "Any massive and dense object orbiting in the halo could be the perturber," she said, "so a wandering supermassive black hole is definitely a possibility... The most plausible explanation for the gap-and-spur structure is an encounter with a dark matter substructure, like those predicted to populate galactic halos."

[Image is the Public Domain, courtesy of NASA/JPL]

If true, this indicates a few interesting things -- the first of which is that dark matter interacts with itself strongly enough to form clumps.  What those interactions consist of is completely unknown.  But the coolest thing is how these disruptions in stellar streams could be used as a dark matter telescope -- helping us to "see" what is invisible in every other respect.  most excitingly, these features demonstrate that cold stellar streams are extremely fine-tuned detectors, sensitive at a level that was only hoped for beforehand," Bonaca and her co-authors, David Hogg, Adrian Price-Whelan, and Charlie Conroy, write in a pre-print of their paper.  "In addition to GD-1 [the stellar stream they studied], there are over forty known streams in the Milky Way halo.  In the era of Gaia, we now have both the incentive and the resources to study them all in detail.  With the full network of streams we could learn not only about individual halo substructures, but about the population as a whole."

So this has definitely given the astrophysicists something to chew on.  I still have the feeling that dark matter will turn out to be this century's "luminiferous ether," the hypothesized substance through which light supposedly propagates -- and which was conclusively shown not to exist when Einstein published his paper on the Special Theory of Relativity.  But that's only a hunch, and I'm certainly not an expert.  We'll have to wait to see what the scientists come up with, and whatever that is, I can guarantee it's gonna be interesting.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a little on the dark side; Jared Diamond's riveting book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Starting with societies that sowed the seeds of their own destruction -- such as the Easter Islanders, whose denuding of the landscape led to island-wide ecological collapse -- he focuses the lens on the United States and western Europe, whose rampant resource use, apparent disregard for curbing pollution, and choice of short-term expediency over long-term wisdom seem to be pushing us in the direction of disaster.

It's not a cheerful book, but it's a very necessary one, and is even more pertinent now than when it was written in 2005.  Diamond highlights the problems we face, and warns of that threshold we're approaching toward catastrophe -- a threshold that is so subtle that we may well not notice it until it's too late to reverse course.

[If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Titans of the ocean

As far as scary critters go, you'd have to look hard to find one scarier than the elasmosaurs.

If you've never seen an artist's reconstruction of one of these beasts, picture something like the body of a sea turtle, with an incredibly long neck and snake-like head, with lots of big, nasty, pointy teeth.  The largest ones reached a length of twelve meters, and a weight of several tons.  The conventional wisdom is that they "mostly ate crustaceans and mollusks," but my feeling is that if they encountered a swimmer, the result would be something like what happened in the movie Jaws, only worse.

Artist's reconstruction of Thalassomedon haningtoni, a late Cretaceous elasmosaur [Image licensed under the Creative Commons DiBgd, Thalassomedon haningtoni, CC BY-SA 4.0]

Fortunately for us, they are one of the groups that ran afoul of the Chicxulub Meteorite Impact 66 million years ago, and they all became extinct, unless you believe in the Loch Ness Monster, which would definitely be an elasmosaur if it actually existed.

This comes up because last week, paleontologists announced that they have unearthed a nearly-complete fossil of the largest-known elasmosaur, Aristonectes, which when alive would have been thirteen meters long and weighed twelve tons.  The fossil was found on Seymour Island in 1989, but was only excavated now because Seymour Island is at the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula, and is windswept, cold, hostile, and hard to get to even during the brief Antarctic summer.  The research team, led by José O’Gorman, a paleontologist with the National Scientific and Technical Research Council of Argentina (CONICET) who is based at the Museum of La Plata near Buenos Aires, has finished the excavation and submitted their results to the journal Cretaceous Research.

What to me is most fascinating about this specimen -- besides its sheer size, which is eye-opening enough -- is that it dates to only thirty thousand years before the K-T Extinction, which (palenontologically speaking) is barely any time at all.  So these big guys were thriving (and diversifying) right up to the moment the big crash occurred -- further evidence that the meteorite was the trigger to the entire extinction event.

O'Gorman says that the work to recover the specimen was grueling.  It began in 2012, proceeding at a snail's pace because the site was only accessible a couple of weeks a year, in late January and early February, and sometimes not even then if there was an unexpected storm. "The weather is one of the problems," O'Gorman said.  "The weather controls all.  Maybe one day you can work, and the next day you cannot because you have a snowstorm."

But their painstaking labor has finally paid off, and given us a picture of a truly awesome critter who was swimming around the oceans right on the verge of one of the "Big Five" extinction events.  Like I said, as a swimmer and scuba diver, I'm just as happy they're not around any more, but getting a glimpse of one of the largest aquatic predators the Earth has ever produced is enough to leave me in awe.
 
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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a little on the dark side; Jared Diamond's riveting book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Starting with societies that sowed the seeds of their own destruction -- such as the Easter Islanders, whose denuding of the landscape led to island-wide ecological collapse -- he focuses the lens on the United States and western Europe, whose rampant resource use, apparent disregard for curbing pollution, and choice of short-term expediency over long-term wisdom seem to be pushing us in the direction of disaster.

It's not a cheerful book, but it's a very necessary one, and is even more pertinent now than when it was written in 2005.  Diamond highlights the problems we face, and warns of that threshold we're approaching toward catastrophe -- a threshold that is so subtle that we may well not notice it until it's too late to reverse course.

[If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

A face in the underpass

As part of my research for Skeptophilia, I spend way too much time perusing questionable websites.

Not that kind of questionable.  Get your mind out of the gutter.  I'm talking about fringe-y sites dealing with Bigfoot, and UFOs, and hauntings, and paranormal phenomena of all sorts.  One of the most useful -- from the standpoint of someone who needs material for six blog posts a week -- is The Anomalist, which acts as a news aggregate for the World of the Weird.  (To his credit, the guy who runs The Anomalist is a pretty good skeptic, and unhesitatingly calls out ridiculous claims for what they are.  He's inclined to give some of them more credence than I would, but I admire his commitment to applying at least some of the tools of skeptical logic to claims of the paranormal.)

One of the links that popped up on The Anomalist last week came from Coast to Coast with George Noory.  Coast to Coast became prominent under the late Art Bell, who interviewed hundreds -- possibly thousands -- of people on the topic of the supernatural, conspiracy theories, and so on.  One of the most famous is the so-called "Frantic Caller" who back in 1998 phoned in to the show and proceeded to tell a fantastic story -- that he was a worker in Area 51 and had found out stuff he shouldn't have, and now the government was chasing him with the intent to silence him permanently.  The guy was either telling the truth or was a hell of an actor -- he legitimately sounded terrified.  (Interesting side note: the transmission from Coast to Coast cut out in the middle of the call, and Art Bell acted genuinely baffled as to why.  The whole thing has become a famous story amongst the conspiracy theorists, lo unto this very day.)

But I digress.

Anyhow, I was on The Anomalist, looking for ideas, and I saw one from Coast to Coast about people seeing a spooky face in a pedestrian underpass.  These sorts of things are almost always cases of pareidolia -- the tendency of the human mind to pick up face-like patterns in things like coarse-grained wood, rust patches, and grilled-cheese sandwiches.  But I thought I'd take a look, and when I did, the first thing I noticed was not a face -- in fact, I'm having a hard time seeing a face in the clip even when I look for it -- but that the underpass looked awfully familiar to me.

Then, with a sudden shock, I realized that it was a photo from the Cayuga Waterfront Trail, only ten miles from where I live.

I've often complained about the fact that things like UFO and Bigfoot sightings never happen near enough to me to justify a road trip.  So when I found out how close I was to the mysterious face, I thought, "Oh, hell yes.  I'm gonna check this one out myself."

So on Saturday I drove down to Cass Park, just north of the underpass in question, and struck off toward it.  I arrived there and started snapping photographs and poking around the place -- and for the record, I didn't see anything even remotely facelike.

After about five minutes of this, I was startled by a voice nearby, and turned to see an obviously stoned guy sitting on the rocks with his back against the cement buttresses of the underpass.  The following conversation ensued:

Stoned guy:  Dude.  Why are you taking pictures of that? 

Me:  Because people have been seeing a face up in the I-beams.  I read about it, and thought I'd take a look. 

*long pause to let that settle in.*  

Stoned guy:  Whoa. 

Me:  I don't see anything, though.  Have you seen anything weird down here? 

Stoned guy:  No, man.  Not a face, anyhow.  But why are you interested in this? 

Me:  I'm a paranormal researcher.  [Yes, I got this phrase out without laughing.] 

Stoned guy: [reverently]  That is so fuckin' cool.  I've never met an actual paranormal researcher. 

Me:  I've been interested in the paranormal for years.  [That much at least was true.]  When I found out this was happening close by, I figured I'd better check it out. 

Stoned guy:  [suddenly brightening up]  Dude, I haven't seen any faces, but there is some creepy fuckin' graffiti over there.  *points*

I was immediately reminded of the graffiti saying, "Duck, Sally Sparrow!  Duck NOW!" from the brilliant Dr. Who episode "Blink."  So I thought I'd ask the Stoned Guy what he thought.

Me:  What does "Don't Go Into the Light" mean? 

Stoned guy:  No idea, man.  All I know is if I see any weird lights, I'm hauling ass right out of here. 

Me:  That sounds like a good idea.  Thanks for your help. 

Stoned guy:  Rock on, dude.  Hope you catch a fuckin' ghost, or whatever. 

Me:  Me too.

So my first opportunity to investigate an actual paranormal claim near where I live kind of was a bust.  Unfortunate, but I suppose it's to be expected.

But it was kind of fun to go check out some place local, and I hope it's not the last.  I'm hereby putting in my request to any aliens, Bigfoots, ghosts, and such-like who may be reading this that I would be much obliged if they'd make an appearance somewhere in, say, a twenty-mile radius of my house.  Because I may be a paranormal researcher, but I also like staying close to home.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a little on the dark side; Jared Diamond's riveting book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Starting with societies that sowed the seeds of their own destruction -- such as the Easter Islanders, whose denuding of the landscape led to island-wide ecological collapse -- he focuses the lens on the United States and western Europe, whose rampant resource use, apparent disregard for curbing pollution, and choice of short-term expediency over long-term wisdom seem to be pushing us in the direction of disaster.

It's not a cheerful book, but it's a very necessary one, and is even more pertinent now than when it was written in 2005.  Diamond highlights the problems we face, and warns of that threshold we're approaching toward catastrophe -- a threshold that is so subtle that we may well not notice it until it's too late to reverse course.

[If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

End of an era

Today is my last day as a classroom teacher.

We still have finals week yet to go, but for all intents and purposes, this is it.  The last day of class.  This year, when I say goodbye to my students, it's really goodbye.

I'm of two minds about retirement, which I suppose is only natural.

First, I've taught biology (and various other subjects) for 32 years, and I am seriously ready to do something different.  While I love my subject -- I still get ridiculously excited when I get to teach genetics and evolutionary biology -- there are parts of it that I will not miss.  Over three decades, and I still haven't figured out how to make The Parts of the Cell interesting.  And while I personally love biochemistry, it doesn't seem to be a Fan Favorite.

And that's putting it mildly.

I also am rather notorious in my school for my antipathy toward Staff Development.  I detest bureaucracy, and the increasing motion in New York -- and, I suspect, elsewhere in the United States -- toward micromanagement and a standardized-tests-über-alles approach to education absolutely infuriates me.  So I won't miss curriculum mapping and high-stakes exams and administrative b-b stackers who don't have the slightest clue what makes teaching vital and relevant and interesting.

But.  I still love the students.  The relationships I've formed over the years have meant a great deal to me, and the trust and interest and friendship the students have shown me are something I value more than I can put into words.  Also, that "Aha!" moment you see in kids' eyes when something finally makes sense, when suddenly some piece of the universe becomes clear to them -- there's nothing like that in the world.

The room where I spent a significant chunk of the last 27 years

I also have been privileged to work with a truly incomparable staff.  Our school district is very, very lucky, from the leadership on down to the rank-and-filers like myself.  In particular, the science department in our school is made up of incredibly talented, caring, and smart individuals, who have exactly the right attitudes toward education and have been, one and all, a delight to work with.  I'll truly miss the camaraderie.

The science department's yearbook photo this year.  We were supposed to include in the photo something that was important to us, and "make it memorable."  We nailed the latter part, at least.

There are also more specific, personal memories that I'll cherish forever.

• The moment in my Critical Thinking class a few years ago, when I was talking about how (or if) we can establish knowledge in the absence of hard evidence.  I said, "I want you right now, with what you have right here, to prove to me that pandas exist!"  And a student silently reached into her backpack... and pulled out a stuffed panda.  After we stopped laughing, I said, "You win this round."  At the end of the semester, she gave me the panda, which still sits on my desk.
• Superintendent's Conference Days.  This may come as a surprise, given my general hatred of staff development as described above -- but I always know that on conference days, the physics teacher and I get fried chicken from the village grocery store for lunch, and that chicken is damn tasty.
• My first day of teaching in Trumansburg High School, when I was teaching in three different classrooms, and second period accidentally went to the wrong one.  I started calling roll, and (of course) no one answered.  After three tries of getting someone, anyone, to answer "Here," one of the students said, in a small voice, "I think the kids you're looking for are next door."  Thereby establishing myself as slightly daffy, a reputation that still haunts me for some reason.
• The student who asked me, in complete seriousness, if Friday the 13th ever fell on a Sunday.
• The incredibly talented artist who, as part of a senior project focused on human faces, did an amazing portrait of me, which I still cherish.
• Finding out that despite my having moved here 27 years ago knowing no one, I've met two students who are distant cousins of mine.
• All the times students have asked me questions that made me step back and say, "Whoa.  I've never thought about that" -- resulting in my learning something along with them.

So all in all, it's been a good run, and retirement was a really hard decision to make.  But it's the right one at the right time.  I've got a lot of things I want to do -- writing, mostly, although I'm sure that a large part of my retirement will be occupied with "let dogs in, let dogs out, let dogs in, let dogs out" -- and I'm content with turning over the reins to a new teacher.  (Really new, in my case.  I know the person who was hired to replace me, and she's a first-year teacher, right out of the starting gate -- and is incredibly talented, dedicated, enthusiastic, and smart.  I have to admit to feeling better about leaving given that I know the students are in good hands.)

So this is it.  In a few hours, the last bell will ring on my teaching career, and that'll be that.  I'm gonna try not to cry, but we'll see how long that determination holds.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is a little on the dark side; Jared Diamond's riveting book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Starting with societies that sowed the seeds of their own destruction -- such as the Easter Islanders, whose denuding of the landscape led to island-wide ecological collapse -- he focuses the lens on the United States and western Europe, whose rampant resource use, apparent disregard for curbing pollution, and choice of short-term expediency over long-term wisdom seem to be pushing us in the direction of disaster.

It's not a cheerful book, but it's a very necessary one, and is even more pertinent now than when it was written in 2005.  Diamond highlights the problems we face, and warns of that threshold we're approaching toward catastrophe -- a threshold that is so subtle that we may well not notice it until it's too late to reverse course.

[If you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]