Freedom!

… Oh, sorry, that was a mis-type.  I meant Free Dom!  Open up a bottle of the bubbly to celebrate the turn of the New Year.  I think we’re all going to need a little anesthetizing to get through 2016. (If you don’t understand the word play resident in the opening, e-mail me under separate cover and I will individualize a witty, sarcastic retort tailored to your specific likelihood to be offended.)

I am afraid that the upcoming Presidential (et al) election, while showing early signs of providing some level of humorous entertainment, will be distilled to the ever widening and deepening usual party politics.  Now I have promised to avoid political commentary as much as I could and I promise this rant will not turn in the direction of an endorsement of either party or candidate.  I hate them all.

One of the fundamental flaws of our current state of self-government is that we have turned over its operation to mercenaries.  You probably know, if you are among my highly educated readership, that originally our representatives (congressmen, in case you have already gotten lost) served as a matter of civic duty being remunerated only by per diem recompense for expenses incurred in furtherance of their service.  Today, they are paid nearly $200,000 per year (probably considerably more when all perks and benefits are added to the sum); why wouldn’t they fight tooth and nail to retain their positions?  And although the focus of party hoopla is the Presidential seat, it is in Congress that the real power lies.  Every four years we debate the merits of this candidate over that and totally ignore the real problem, that those truly important changes that we look to them to make (regardless of which direction you want the government to turn) are not under the control of the President, but of Congress.  We complain that nothing gets done then reelect the same clowns to Congress, or their party backed heirs, in the case of retirements, that vow to make real change when in fact it is in their best interest to maintain the status quo!

Perhaps it is true that while we shout our displeasure with the state of the State, we in fact also want the return of the “don’t rock the boat candidate”.  Without assessing relative merit, it looked like this time we would at least be entertained somewhat by those vying for political power, but even eleven months out it looks like were forming up ranks along the same old lines.

“So Dale,” you ask, “what is your solution?”  Well, Turner Classic Movies (TCM) is running a Marx Brothers marathon today.   Need I say more, Mrs.Potter?

Christmas Special Best-ees

Last year about this time I wrote a piece on the best Christmas films from the Golden Age of Hollywood (Golden Holiday Bestees Dec. 4, 2014).  And when I say best, I of course mean my favorite.  All objective analysis of these choices was avoided with the utmost diligence.

This year, I will grace your holiday season with my opinion as regards the best animated television specials of Christmas.  I have set a self-imposed limit of five programs, quite arbitrarily.  If your favorite did not warrant inclusion on my list, it is either because your taste is horrible or you are so much younger than I that our experiences do not overlap.  If you don’t care for my choices, shut up and start your own blog.  Now, in the true spirit of the season, the best animated television programs of the Christmas Holiday:

No. 5 – A Charlie Brown Christmas (first aired Dec. 9, 1965 – CBS) Directed by Bill Melendez.  You are Probably asking, “How can a beloved icon like A Charlie Brown Christmas rank so low?”  Because the main vehicle for humor in this timeless classic is pathos (look it up!).  The whole plot revolves around a kid who is sad because nobody can tell him the true meaning of Christmas.  It is all introspective crap!  Please understand me.  I grew up on Charles M. Schultz’ comic strip.  It is probably the best newspaper comic ever.  If you want to laugh yourself silly get hold of one of the retrospective volumes that contain the strips from the first ten years.  The kids lived in a kid’s universe, dealing with the challenges of understanding their world.  Then all of a sudden (maybe it was part of the Viet Nam syndrome) about this time, Schultz turned philosophic and the beagle (Snoopy) became the only funny character.  Still, you (or at least, I) cannot watch this, or even hear the ubiquitous theme music, without getting a bit nostalgic for those years between Santa Claus and gift certificates.

No. 4 – Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (first aired Dec. 6, 1964 – NBC) A stop-motion animation (if you don’t know what that means, think Gumby) special produced by Rankin-Bass, this tale of potential unrecognized is the longest running Christmas special of all time, marking fifty years in 2014.  We all know the song, but who among us can name (without help) the eight tiny reindeer whose careers were minimized by the upstart with the electric nose?  What really sets this story apart from most song-based cartoons is the introduction of characters unique to the teleplay: Hermey the elf who wants to trade in his toy-making tools for a dentist’s drill; Yukon Cornelius, a prospector who tutors Rudolph on the value of self-esteem; and the Abominable Snow Monster of the North who adds absolutely nothing to the fabric of the story but elicits laughs from children and me.  I, like most children of blue collar parents, was forced to imagine Rudolph’s nose of red, as we were all still sucking at the teat of the black & white Philco.  Remember, “Bumbles bounce!”

No. 3 – Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol (first aired Dec. 18, 1962 – NBC) This was the first animated holiday special specifically produced for television.  It is a musical version of the Charles Dickens’ Christmas tale of Ebenezer Scrooge.  Yeah, we all know the story now (there must be some reason so many versions of this parable have been produced, like greatness) but for my generation, this was our introduction to Victorian Era literature.  And in my case it worked… caught like a fish on a hook. I will forgo this opportunity to bore you with my opinions of nineteenth century literature. What made it work for us baby-boomer tykes, of course, was the talent of Mr. Jim Backus, voice of Mr. Magoo.  Add to that easily memorized song lyrics like, “La, la… la, la, la, la, laah!” and “Ringle, ringle, coins when they jingle make such a lovely noise!” …well, it was destined to be a classic.  The downside was the poor production quality resultant of the cost of animation.  But for its role in raising our cultural I.Q., it rates a high position on my list.

No. 2 – How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (first aired Dec. 18, 1966 – CBS) Mix authorship by Dr. Seuss, direction by Chuck Jones (Warner Bros. animation) and narration (plus the voice of the Grinch) by Boris Karloff; how can you lose?  Well, seems you can’t.  This gem from the days of hand-drawn animation has every element of a classic.  I will not labor your emotions by repeating the plot here, ‘cause everybody knows it from the top of Mt. Crumpit to the streets of Whoville.  The best part is the Grinch’s sleigh ride with his dog Max disguised as a reindeer; I still nearly bust a gut laughing and I’ve been watching this thing since I was twelve years old.  Now, every one, with your best voce di basso, “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch…”

Wallace and Gromit

No. 1 – Intentionally Left Blank  I know what you’re thinking, “But Dale, I’ve never heard of that one before.”  That’s because I’m reserving this space for something yet to come: A Wallace and Gromit Christmas Special.  It seems so obvious that I can’t believe nobody has ever thought of it.  “Who are Wallace and Gromit?” you ask.  They are the creation of one Nick Park, aka Aardman Animations.  Claymation (stop-motion animation) characters; a man (Wallace) and his uber-intelligent dog (Gromit).  I was first introduced to them via the Spike and Mike Animated Film Festival that used to play at the La Jolla Museum of Modern Art.  The finale film was The Wrong Trousers; (released Dec. 26, 1993).  Despite the proximity to the great holiday, it is not a Christmas story.  Nor are the other three shorts and one feature length offering.  These are commercially available on DVD if you haven’t seen them.  I feel the feature length Curse of the Were-Rabbit stalled as is often the case when attempting to stretch short-subject material too far; one gets too much of a good thing.  Editorializing aside, a Christmas themed story would be the perfect platform for the antics of Wallace and Gromit… in the meantime, make sure you see their other hilarious adventures.

So, Where's the Blog?

I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.  I was not captured by pirates, well not the kind you think.  In fact, I made a good faith effort to write and post a blog entry last week but the fates conspired against me.  The subject of the much anticipated missive was animated Christmas specials.  And you would have loved it.  But circumstances beyond my power took control and blocked my effort.  So here is my sad, sad, happy ending story. 

Over the last few weeks my six-year old Fujitsu laptop computer had demonstrated growing indications of obsolescence. It was running slow.  I was encountering an increasing number and frequency of screen lockups.  Some weeks ago the gods of computing had advised me that Microsoft would no longer support my Windows Vista operating system.  I downloaded the offered Mozilla Firefox remedial software.  But it did not perform as Vista had when new.  So, succumbing to frustration, I decided to purchase a new machine.  And the climax occurred Wednesday last week as I was authoring your weekly treat.  I opted to break from my efforts, make my purchase the following day then complete my opus. 

I am more a features shopper than bargain hunter.  I like to touch what I buy before laying out the cash (or as in this case, borrow from VISA using their billing cycle to float the outlay into next month).  So my favorite tech supply option is Fry’s.  They generally have three or four more models available for immediate purchase and delivery than any competitor, their advising staff actually listen to ones questions and make a good effort to direct the customer to a satisfactory acquisition. 

Within one-half hour of entering the store I was on my way with my new HP Envy laptop under my arm.  Well actually, it was in a shopping cart as I took advantage of their offer to sell me a new HP printer for an additional twenty-five (yes, $25) dollars.  I also purchased the most recent version of Microsoft Office as I was currently working with the 2007 model.  For me, it’s all about compatibility.  

So scurrying home all anxious to set up my new toy…um, tool, my plan to complete my blog post before too late in the day was coming together nicely.  Do you remember your first personal computer purchase?  Before you could push the start button you had to read a three-hundred-page manual, diagram a plan of attack and make at least one trip back to the store to pick up the cable that was not included with the purchased hardware.  Ah, those were the days when setting up electronic devices of any kind separated the men from the boys.  

Not so in our modern age.  The manual of operation has been reduced to a one-page, cartoon-drawn instruction sheet that indicates the location of the power-supply connection port, the power button, and the Wi-Fi connection button. And that’s it; flaps-down, full-power, wheels up… fly boy, fly! 

The next step then was to set up the printer.  Same discipline; power cord, Wi-Fi connection, install printer drivers to computer.  Wait, there is no disk drive installed in this computer.  Of course silly, this is the era of the cloud.  One simply locates the appropriate web site as per instructions and downloads the necessary software; smooth.  And hide your surprise, I did this without difficulty.  Now one last step, load the Microsoft Office suite of applications. 

Once again, as with the printer drivers, one is expected to locate the appropriate web site and using a twenty-five-digit code (you know, there are only twenty-six digits in the whole stinking alphabet) to prove valid purchase.  Once validated the, software loads itself magically onto the hard drive ready to meet ones every clerical need.  And so I proceeded. 

Wait a minute.  The web site is responding with an error code: not an indication that I miss keyed the password, but an error code.  This is why I don’t use ointment, there are always flies lurking about.  Hallo!  There is a 1-8XX number displayed on the screen instructing the user to call in just such an occurrence.  Well, it seems rather old fashioned to use a voice communication device when dealing with high-speed data transfer issues but if it must be… 

Of course, the respondent at the other end of the line had an eastern accent (I’ll guess Indian, but the din of other voices in the background was of such volume I couldn’t be sure) and politely asked me how he could help.  I explained my dilemma.

“Perhaps your version of Microsoft Office is not compatible with your Window’s operating system.’ He suggested in his overly conciliatory manner.  I thought to myself, “Widows 10; brand new.  Microsoft Office 2016; brand new: Incompatibility unlikely!”  He continued, ‘There must be a problem with your computer.  May I have permission to sign into your computer and check?”  This is where I should have stopped the process and regrouped.  But, anxious to get this train on the tracks I agreed.  Mowgli put me on hold.

When he returned my computer screen was putting itself through some diagnostic gymnastics.  It did this for a few minutes and stopped.  Punjab came back on the phone and highlighted some indecipherable language on my screen.  “You have a Trojan virus on your computer.  We have to remove that before we can install Office.” 

“What are you talking about?”, I asked rather accusingly, “I just bought this thing today!  How did I get a virus?” 

“Well, I can’t answer that question, Sahib.  But we can remove it and help you with your problem.”  And then a table popped up on my screen listing different time periods and how much their anti-virus protection for said durations would cost:  One hundred fifty dollars for one to two years; $499 for lifetime protection.  I felt like Rikki-tikki-tavi in a spitting contest with a cobra.

“Okay Gunga Din, I get it now.  You’ve scammed me.  Now close out all those windows and get out of my computer!”  I hung up while he was squawking something or other and shut down my machine.  I rebooted and changed my password.  Then I packed up the machine and hustled off to Fry’s, arriving about six o’clock.  The service desk was not busy… just wait until the day after Christmas.  I explained to the technician the events of the day. He turned on my machine and found I had indeed been hacked.  He offered to wipe the hard drive and reload all of the original software, if he could.  He started the process.  At seven o’clock his shift ended and he explained the situation to his coworker, “If you can’t get this to load, just swap out a new computer for him if they have one in stock.”  He also gave me a phone number for Microsoft that he knew to be reliable and instructed I call them for assistance with the Office download so as not to get sucked into another scam website. 

About nine o’clock, the second technician and I agreed the new operating system was not loading. At ten after nine, I was showing my receipt to the guy at the door, new computer under my arm. By the time I arrived home, I was too fatigued to mess with computers and such.  But the next morning, I brought the machine to life and loaded the printer drivers.  Then I called Microsoft and got a competent tech speaking understandable English in a quiet environment.  She patiently walked me through each step including identifying the correct website.  Several times she stated I could proceed on my own but when I asked her to stick with me she did all the way to the end.  She even called me three hours later to make sure everything was working to my satisfaction.  I considered this to be very good customer service. 

But the real heroes in this story are the guys at Fry’s.  They had no culpability in my failure to successfully install the Office software.  Failing to find the correct website we solely on me.  Yet, without prompting from me, and without running it up the chain of command, they made sure I left their store with a brand new, perfectly healthy computer. 

Lesson to us all:  In these days of web acquired games, software and media, electronic piracy and hostage taking is blossoming as an industry.  Sadly, there is little that can be done to pursue and prosecute such criminal activity because of its anonymous nature.  It is up to us to be weary and proceed very carefully when doing business with web based providers. 

Oh yeah, the point of this story… shop at Fry’s! 

Stay tuned; next week… best Christmas animated specials of all time!

Eco-Crisis, comme ci, comme ca

Contrary to appearances this treatise is not a political polemic.  Rather, it is a skeptical analysis of “dogma” currently being bandied about in contextual proximity to the recently concluded 2015 United Nations Climate Change Conference.  I will not argue data as that exercise becomes a tedious tit-for-tat exchange not dissimilar to the juvenile ritual of sticking ones tongue out at another.  While generally emotionally satisfying, it very rarely results in a reconsideration of tightly held dogmatic position.  In plain English (or as close as I can allow myself to come to that vulgar level of communication), you cannot argue with a brick.

So instead, I will employ the Socratic method of asking questions in hopes that the answers you, the reader,  provide will illuminate new and alternative paths of understanding.

Question number one:  If ninety-nine percent of all species that have inhabited the Earth are now extinct, how can we be so egotistic as to believe that human activity alone will be responsible for the next mass extinction?

Question number two:  If the sun is the source of heat energy that drives our climate (just stand in a non-shaded spot for a while, even on a cool day), and the sun’s energy output has been increasing steadily since the day of ignition (about four and one-half billion years ago), how can we assign blame to human activity for the gradual increase in ocean temperatures on our planet (well, it’s not really our planet so much as we are its inhabitants… new tenants will gladly take ownership in the event of our departure, see question number one)?

Questions number three and four:  How can we use Venus’ atmosphere (the planet, not the Roman goddess) for making predictions about green house gasses on Earth when the chemical composition (CO₂ on Venus is 96.5% of the atmosphere, on Earth it is 0.04%) of their respective atmospheres is so different?  And how can one cite the temperatures on Venus as a future model for Earth when Venus is (average) 67 million miles from the sun compared to the 93 million miles for Earth?

Question number five:  When charging animal husbandry since the nineteenth century with adding untold amounts of methane (CO₂’s delinquent younger sibling in the green house gas hierarchy) to our atmosphere, how does one account for the tens of millions of American Bison (buffalo) that roamed the plains for eons prior to European settlement and westward expansion?  Don’t buffalo fart?

I believe I have given you enough to think about for this week.  And please, don’t exhale so much.

An Offering

Thomas Jefferson

This has been a bad week, humanity wise.  And as such, I have been compelled to listen to pundits “A” through “Z” offer their opinions on the failings of our President (forgive me, but tradition demands I capitalize the first letter of that title) and his government regarding all things political.  If we read history (and I do) we are left to understand that the responsibility with which the President of the United States of America is charged is the administrative management of the federal government.  The office was so designed as to minimize institutional interference in our private lives.  Thomas Jefferson was vehement, almost obsessive in his efforts to warn his fellow architects of the Republic against the natural tendency for governmental self-promotion and growth.  With small effort one can find text upon text reinforcing that truth and yet, here we are in 2015 with political leadership (and this happens within the conclaves of both parties, my dear pupils) that ignores the fact that our (well, it was supposed to be ours) government has lost control of those functions for which it was formed (say, national security) and has encroached itself almost totally into those social environs forbidden to it by our sacred Constitution.

I really prefer to use this forum as a canvas for my peculiar brand of wit.  But sometimes I reach a level of frustration with behavior so counter to the tenets of this Nation that I need an avenue through which I can release the building steam pressure.  I’ve tried talking to people about the state of our government and how it is killing the spirit of our noble cause.  But I find I get one of two reactions:  They run away screaming, rending their garments in a biblical manner; or their eyes glaze over as they yearn for the shelter of their I-phones.

Today I am once again standing at the edge of that precipice, where, if I step over the edge, I will start a one man mission to correct the problem.  I can see far enough into the future to know that this would not be a path of pleasant, or particularly beneficial outcomes.  So, I step back, take a breath, click on my mental safety and re-holster my emotional weapon.

Charles Darwin

But I want to be part of the solution as opposed to just another whining voice in the fog.  So here is my offering:  Government should disband itself; but just before it does, it should issue to each and every citizen with the strength to grasp it firmly, a pointy stick.  Then we revert to pure Darwinism; survival of the fittest.  Them that can, do.  Them that can’t become part of the food supply.  Now this may seem a bit gruesome to the more genteel among you.  But take heart, you won’t have to witness this experiment for very long (if you know what I mean; if you don’t you may have even less time).

Okay, I feel better now.  Be sure to tune in next week for more fun and learning.  And always remember, the world is what you make it… not what they tell you it should be.

Outrage!

I have to admit that the subject of today’s media outrage is far more interesting than what we have been served in recent weeks.  I’m not sure how much one is paid by a media outlet to manufacture outrage, but if it is decent coin I may just look into a career change.  Because the standard drivel is very rarely worth ones effort to clear ones throat (harrumph!).

Among the recent spate of outrages we can count: One presidential hopeful’s suggestion that as a nation of laws it is our moral duty to enforce immigration statutes and apply such actions they may require, say deportation of violators; the political witch hunt currently directed at one former presidential cabinet member in regards the criminal mismanagement of sensitive, nationally critical information; use of a government charge card by another presidential hopeful for payment of personal expenses, although directly paid for by the candidate when due.

But these are mere trifles compared with today’s (that would be Wednesday, November 11, 2015, as this is being written) egregious affront to our cultural heritage:  Starbucks’ seasonal cup is anti-Christmas!  How could they do this?  Well let me elucidate.  It seems the cup design for this year is, gird yourselves… red!  It’s just plain red, with the traditional Starbucks mermaid.

There are no snowflakes.  There are no Christmas tree ornaments.  There are no snow men, no stylized pine branches, no carolers, rein deer, not one nutcracker.  It is just a red cup with a green logo.  How could they be so exclusionary?

Well I for one applaud their decision!  I don’t drink Starbucks’ coffee for the decorations.  Hell, I don’t even drink it for the taste.  That’s right; I don’t like the coffee that much.  The only way I can tolerate it is to load it up with sugar and half-and-half. I go to patronize Starbucks because I can enjoy a good read on their patio while watching the attractive women come and go.  And how can I do this in the dead of winter?  Because I live in Southern California where there are no snowflakes, snow men, or pine trees.  There is just mild weather that makes coffee on the patio at Starbucks one of the simple pleasures in life.

Oh, and let’s not forget the attractive baristas.  The female baristas, I didn’t really need to clarify that, did I?

How Big Is It?

Have you ever looked up at the sky and wondered, “How big is it?”  I mean when you’re not stoned; a genuine thirst for knowledge.  Well, here’s a shocker, nobody knows.  We do know that it is pretty huge.  I mean, it’s the universe and all.  And maybe we should consider rethinking the term universe.  Originally, we used the term universe to describe everything.  For people of faith, it meant God’s creation.  Now we really have no idea what the universe is (I mean physically; if you’ve wired it philosophically, good for you).

Edwin Hubble

Scientifically, until the twentieth century, astronomers believed that the physical universe was what we know today to be the Milky Way galaxy; our galaxy.  Then in 1924 Edwin Hubble concluded several spiral nebulae he was observing were too distant to be part of the Milky Way and were in fact galaxies outside of our own (see The Big Pffft! May 9, 2013) .  Thus the universe grew exponentially with the publication of his work.  With advances in telescope technology and observational technique thousand of galaxies were mapped, again increasing the size of our universe.

Then, along came another Hubble.  Well, a telescope bearing the name of our hero.  In 1995 (were you born yet?) The Hubble Orbiting Telescope was used to make a long exposure (probably archaic language on my part, but when I was taking pictures we were still using film) of a heretofore seemingly empty piece of sky in Ursa Major (the Big Dipper, north).  The target area is just 2.5 arcminutes across (sorry, I don’t know what that means either) which is about one 24-millionth (oh, there’s a number I can relate to – NOT!) of the whole sky.  Anyway, it is small!

“And what did they fine, Dale?”  Well little ones, they found 3,000 identifiable galaxies out there that had never been seen before.

There's Pie?

“Is that a lot, Dale?”  Well, while three thousand is a number we can relate to, remember they were looking at a very small piece of the sky.  Kind of like that skinny piece of pumpkin pie you get at Thanksgiving while your cousin gets a quarter of the pie.

“Thanks for putting it into terms we can relate to, Dale.”  My pleasure, children… my pleasure; but I digress.

Now here is the only math we’re going to do today. Assuming an even distribution of matter throughout the universe (and the Hubble Deep Field Image seems to suggest it is), the answer to how many galaxies are there (that we can see) is the product of 3,000 X 24,000,000!  No, I don’t know what to call that number linguistically, but numerically it would be 72 with a poop load of zeros behind it, like nine or something.  So is that 72x10⁹?  I get so confused with this math speak.

Well in any communication method, that’s a lot.  And we can’t even see all the way back to the beginning, yet.  And we haven’t even begun to consider the notion of multi-verse yet.

Okay then, back to the original question.  How big is it?  Pretty friggin’ big!  Yes, you will be held accountable for this information on the final.

Hot Dog!

I am thrilled at the news.  After years of being maligned by fellow epicures, I have been exonerated by the scientific community.  Let me bring you up to speed.  Since childhood, I have hated hot dogs.  It is not one of those, “nobody knows what’s in it conspiracy hatreds”.  It was, and remains to be, the taste.  I cannot stand the mix of spices that give said pseudo sausage its particular, and to me peculiar, flavor.

Thanks, Mom!

On that rare occasion when the pride of Oscar Mayer was the only dining option, I would have to drown the beast in condiments.  Bring me catsup!  Bring me relish!  Bring me mustard!  Or, if you can, bring me a hamburger!  Many a time I have fought back the urge to retch when I witnessed some tyke roaming around with a bare Ball Park frank, listlessly gnawing away as they uncaringly teetered this way and that.

And why, I inquire, must we befoul the blessed stew, chili, by pouring it over a questionably kosher Hebrew National?  Toss the dog, put it in a bowl and I will sop the remnants with the now unnecessary bun.  Carroll Shelby will rest easier in his grave.

Charlton Heston, "Soylent Green"

But now my stand against miniature bologna (yeah, you guessed right, I don’t eat that either) is reinforced by academic investigation.  A recent study of hot dog hygiene issues by Clear Foods, results published October 26, 2015, reveals two percent (2%) of wieners tested contained human DNA. Aghhh!  You’ve been eating people.  And not only were you unaware, you developed a passionate liking for it!  The age of Soylent Green (look it up!) is here; or would this be Soylent Pink.

For those vegetarians out there breathing a sigh of relief, the study also found that ten percent (10%) of “vegetarian hot dog products contain meat.”  And two-thirds (67%) of vegetarian samples contained human DNA.  I know true vegans are okay because they wouldn’t ever eat a food product named for an animal. Too bad for them bear claws are so delicious… well, more for you and me.

Coming soon, “California’s New Right to Die Initiative; Coincidence or Correlation?” (See Soylent Green)

The Right Honorable Edmund Gerald Brown, Jr., Governor

The Crowded Sky

Well, truth is, I just forgot.  So, here’s some stuff to occupy your time.

The Orionid meteor shower peaked this morning (Thur. October 22).  You missed it.  But you may be able to catch some action Friday morning just before dawn (about 6AM).  Just go outside and look into the sky to the south.  Find the constellation Orion and watch.  If you don’t know what Orion looks like, Google it.  The meteor shower is caused by Earth cruising through the particles left as Comet Halley last passed this way (1986).  Good luck.

Then, on October 31, 2015, Earth will be passed by a massive (1,542 feet in diameter) asteroid with its closest approach being 310,000 miles (the Moon is 240,000 miles away).  This baby is whippin’ through the solar system at a mere 78,000 miles per hour.  So, do you think all of that is scary?  Well hang on to your “depends”, the asteroid was discovered only 11days ago!  Once again, Orion will be the backdrop for the action.  The closest approach will occur at 10:05 AM San Diego time (17:05 UTC) but the rock is not large enough or close enough to see in daylight.  The best chance is the previous night, Oct. 30 (my source article says 11:50 PM CT, so 9:50 PM San Diego time?).  If you want more information, just Google “Halloween Asteroid”.

And if that’s not enough, the world’s astronomers are all agog about a star (KIC 8462852… sexy name, huh?) they found out there somewhere that is behaving rather oddly.  While none of the eggheads will allow themselves to say it, the phenomenon could indicate the presence of an alien population capable of building a structure somewhat like the Halo from the computer game… or it could just be an asteroid field.  But they’re not sure because they’ve never seen anything like it.  So, anyway, they’re searching for radio signals that may indicate the presence of any intelligent population.  They should be done with the data collection this week and once the numbers have been crunched, they will start the peer review process meanwhile keeping mum about what they think it all means.  We will probably hear from them some time next year.  Plenty of time to draw up your last will and testament... of build a laser blaster.

That’s it for this week, sleep tight!

Cameroon

Breathe easily, this promises to be a short and probably unexciting missive.  It is one of those weeks that offer little in the way opportunity for self-expression through sarcasm.  Nothing funny, well humorous, seems to be happening.  There all kinds of funny things happening if you apply the proper nuance to the word funny.

As I was beginning to generate some small anxiety over selection for this week’s topic of elucidation, my efforts turned to scanning the journalistic headlines as is my wont when faced with such a crisis.  Nope, couldn’t find anything useful from the reporting (if that’s what you’d like to call it, a more apt synonym might be drivel) on the Democratic Presidential debate.  Say, when did the Three Stooges join forces with the Battling Bickersons to create the quintet of soulless acolytes anyway?  Anderson Cooper should be pilloried for cowardice in the face of the friendly.  But I digress.

So what, of any substance, have we been wringing our hands over the past few days?  Of course, the withdrawal timing of remaining U.S. troops in Afghanistan and the number of support personnel to remain as a stabilizing force.  We know the administration has set a course for total abandonment of said locale.  And I have heard some growling opposition from the Republican led houses of our esteemed legislature.  But true to his campaign word, Obama will make sure that by the end of his tenure no American troops will remain to aid in the safe-guarding of that ancient and honorable culture which some thirty years ago chewed up the formidable Soviet Army.  Nope, the war against Islamic extremism is moving to… Cameroon?

This week, the President notified Congress that he was deploying three hundred “non-combat” troops to Cameroon to help with surveillance and intelligence activities in that country’s efforts to resist incursion by Boko Haram: The daughter stealers of Nigeria, not the 1970s English rock group Procol Harum.  Obama said the troops would remain there only until they are no longer needed.  That seems kind of counter to his strategy for Iraq.  Well, maybe his understanding of things military is expanding.

Now doesn’t that just turn your skin a whiter shade of pale?

Economics for Chickens

About two weeks ago I happened to breakfast at the local Coco’s restaurant.  I opted for the raspberry cheese blintz pancakes combo, with bacon, eggs over easy.  It was very good, thanks for asking; it is hard to beat raspberries.

As I was waiting to pay my bill at the front counter, I noticed a rather disturbing hand-crafted sign announcing no meringue pies would be available do to the egg shortage.  I perused the refrigerated cabinet on the wall behind the counter and confirmed by brief visual inspection that indeed there were no meringue pies to be counted among the inventory.  I looked again at the hand-written sign to see if I had missed any explanatory information that might shed light on the root cause of this epicurean catastrophe.  By the time I had exhausted that resource, the cashier arrived.  In poring over her vacuous facial expression, I determined there was no information available in that quarter to shed light on this most troubling crisis.

So I pursued the course of any ambitious pseudo-intellectual and duly forgot all about it.   But a kernel of curiosity stayed with me and finally today, desperately searching the news headlines for some subject with which to entertain you as is my wont, I stumbled upon an article reporting a shortage of pumpkin pie filling for this year’s Thanksgiving season. (As I learned from my fictional mentor, Ford Prefect… “DON’T PANIC”, but more about the pumpkin worriment later.)  This revivified my wonderment over the aforementioned egg shortage.  So, lacking any ambition, as is also my wont, I Googled “egg shortage”.

It seems that since sometime earlier this year, we have been experiencing a dire egg shortage.  This was caused not by lack of effort on our hens’ part, but rather an outbreak of avian flu that has affected some forty-eight million birds including chickens, geese and TURKEYS.  I am not sure if I have stumbled onto some nefarious Islamo-fueled, anti-Pilgrim plot to deprive us of our God-given right to overeat on the third Thursday of November, but something reeks of marine odiferousness (smells fishy for you ESLs out there).

Somewhat to my relief, as I continued into the factual, non-inflammatory depths of the article, I learned that the shortage to date has really only affected the liquid egg supply.  (I am going to ask you to take a leap of faith here and assume as I did that the phrase “liquid eggs” refers to egg product that has been extracted from its ovoid protector and shipped sans shell for the intended use as an ingredient in commercial food applications.)  Any noticed price increase in the retail egg market is due to pressure from liquid egg product providers seeking an alternative supply source.  There are still plenty of eggs available to the non-commercial consumer.  We are assured by those who know (or at least speak as if they do) the condition will have corrected itself by 2016.  I’m not sure how the retail turkey market is poised to deal with their seasonal concerns.

But more importantly, we must prepare ourselves for the prognostication that there will be a shortage of pumpkin pie filling.  This potential calamity is the result of record rainfall levels in Illinois.  It seems, ninety percent of all pie filling pumpkins are raised within ninety miles of Peoria.  Kinda sounds like a monopoly to me (that’s the economic term for close control of a commodity or product, not a Parker Bros. game), and that’s wrong.

At any rate, Libby’s, the most prodigious pumpkin pie filling producer, recommends you buy your canned pumpkin pie filling early and often, as the supply may run short.  Go figure!

  

Mars Attacked... Yet Again!

Mars

Earlier this week, or maybe it was last week (time has no fixed reference point when you live the life of the idle moderately-comfortable) NASA announced unequivocally that they had found water on that planet most likely for extra-terran human migration, Mars.  For those of you unfamiliar with our solar system, Mars (so named for the Roman God of War due to its reddish appearance; the planet, not the god) is the fourth planet from the Sun (we’re number three, and we appear to be blue; the color, not the state of mind).  It is also, due to feature similarity and proximity of orbit, the most likely target for establishment of a permanent human colony.  As such, Mars has become a frequent subject for science fiction genre literature and films, e.g. The Martian due to be released Oct. 2^nd.  (Ray Walston will always be my favorite Martian!)

Venus

When I was in my youth, about fifty-five solar orbital cycles ago, Venus was portrayed in science fiction films as the most likely candidate for human exploration, perhaps even having produced indigenous intelligent life forms.  Venus, after all, is in the goldilocks zone; that distance from the sun where a planet may experience a temperature range not hazardous to life as we know it (someday I will take on the implications of that phrase, but I need to be in a particularly snarky state of mind).  It is also very similar in size to Earth which suggests comparable gravitational parameters, necessary to hold an atmosphere.  But as our science acumen increased we learned two things.  One: Venus does indeed have an atmosphere; unfortunately consisting primarily of carbon dioxide.  This atmospheric chemistry yields surface pressure of nearly 1,400 psi (92 times that of Earth: 15psi).  Two: Venus’ rotation rate is one per 243 Earth days, (and it rotates backwards, it is the only planet in the Solar System that rotates from east to west (we, as you could infer, rotate from west to east).  This causes the extreme temperature of 872^oF and results in wind speeds of 220 mph.  Russia has successfully sent several probes to Venus, delivering data for twenty-three minutes to two hours before giving up and going to satellite heaven (or wherever atheist satellites go).  Venus is also the obvious inspiration for that Earthly phenomenon that began to signal our future doom in 1970, the runaway greenhouse effect.  Venus’ atmosphere is does indeed exexperience greenhouse warming. However, Venus: CO₂ percentage > 95%.  Earth: CO₂ percentage < 0.05%.  We are not planning to colonize Venus in the near future, she is a false seductress.  But I digress.

Venus Surface Image

Do you understand the implications of flowing water on Mars?  If sufficient free-flowing water is present, it significantly reduces the amount of weight a spacecraft would have to devote to carrying potable water.  There is no substitute for potable water, how else would an astronaut make his Tang?

Hydrates Salts Streaks

But wait!  Before you launch that rocket take note.  NASA has pulled back a bit from the overly enthusiastic reporting of the popular press.  The New York Times opening line was “Scientists have for the first time confirmed liquid water flowing on the surface of present-day Mars, …”  Well isn’t that nice?  Doesn’t that just conjure up an image of a riparian paradise with a rippling rill flowing down a gentle slope into a mirror-like tarn?  Get your picnic basket, Yogi.  We’re going a wandering in the lea.  But as one reads paragraph after paragraph it seems the flowing water is indicated not by direct evidence of standing pools.  Rather, dark striations (streaks in NY Times parlance) photographed by the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter (not the Mars rover Curiosity, although they boldly inserted a picture of that vehicle in the article) that may be hydrated salts, evidence of damp spots at some recent time.  Now damp spots are hardly free flowing water.  The spectrometer on the orbiter is not sensitive enough to provide chemical analysis on said streaks which are a few yards wide at most.

Curiosity Selfie

So, why not just send Curiosity over and take a sample of one of these “evidence of flowing water” skid marks?  Well there are two concerns.  One: The Rover is two years away from the suspected hydrated salts trails (yeah, but I’ll bet he’s getting’ great gas mileage).  Two:  It seems the eager little beaver, whose prime mission was to search for life, is not sterile and some scientists fear contaminating the Mars aquatic environment with Earth born microbes.  NASA tells us, that building the rover and transport craft to standards allowing Earth-bound sterilization by heat prior to launch would have required the addition of too much weight.  (I’m sterile and all it took was a bit of novocaine, two judicious snips and a bag of frozen peas… but I digress)  In space travel, weight is everything.  So I ask: In building a rover (actually, two rovers) to go to another world where we knew there was some probability of the presence of water from orbital photographs of the erosion patterns on the planet’s surface, not to mention the ice at the polar caps, did we not think we might just stumble across one of these damp spots by chance and contaminate that?

The estimated cost of sending a manned mission to Mars is $6 billion to $500 billion (wow, that’s razor cut budgeting, huh?).  What’s a half-trillion when your national debt is approaching $20 trillion?  I say, let the market decide.  If some clever entrepreneur can convince private investors there is gold in them thar red hills, let him.  And welcome to the profits.  But I’m seeing little real benefit for the common taxpayer.  I believe I will continue to focus on Earth-bound investment opportunities for the time being.  Unless of course you are planning to send Matt Damon along with the first sortie; then all I need to know is where to send my check.

Breaking News Post Scripts:

 PS  I trust you are all keeping up with your Russian language lessons.

PPS  Your Chinese manufactured prayer rugs are on back order.

PPPS  To paraphrase (British Prime Minister) Neville Chamberlain:  The world will fall to pieces in our time!

PPPPS   Sea monkeys found on ISS!