Super Duper!

Finally, something worth getting out of bed for:  This weekend (Sunday, Sept. 27) we will be given the opportunity to observe an astronomical event known as a Supermoon.  The event is so called because our sister orb will appear 14% larger and 30% brighter than its norm.  The phenomenon happens when full phase occurs with the moon at perigee (the closest point in its orbit around the earth).  Sunday evening, the moon will rise at 6:35 PM (PDT).  Visibility will depend of course on local weather conditions.  Currently, the forecast calls for clear skies; but on the other hand it was supposed to have rained considerably for the past two days and, well you know.

But Wait, There’s More!!!

We are even luckier than you imagined, because this full moon will be cast into the Earth’s shadow as we experience a lunar eclipse!  The indirect lighting reflected from the moon’s surface will produce a reddish hue known as a Blood Moon. This alignment of the Sun, Earth and moon provide us once again with dramatic proof that we are not at the center of the universe.  

Any female readers of a pagan bent may feel free to celebrate by assuming the persona of dryad, naiad, sylph, nymphet or sprite and dancing naked on my front lawn.  There is nothing that celebrates the wonder of nature like a good debauch!  Frank, you may not assume the undress of a fairy and dance on my lawn.

The eclipse will begin at approximately 1:00 AM GMT (British Time) Monday morning (Sept. 28) which translates to 5:00 PM PDT (local time) Sunday evening (Sept. 27).  The eclipse will last approximately one hour and ten minutes.

Doing the math for you (because it’s really easy… and that’s the kind of math I specialize in), with the eclipse beginning at 5:00 PM and lasting just a bit over one hour and moonrise scheduled for 6:35 PM, by the time the moon rises here in paradise, the whole thing will be… over.

Well, you ladies can come over anyway and dance to celebrate the recent autumnal equinox.  After all, we only have one of those each year.  Clothing optional, of course.

Westward, Ho!

For some time now, we have been following events in that troubled Middle East country, Syria.  It seems some sort of civil war is in progress there spurred on by the continuing dissatisfaction of the population with the performance of their president, Bashar al-Assad.  Beginning in Tunisia in December 2010 the revolutionary wave known as the Arab Spring had spread to other Arab League countries and by the end of February 2012, rulers had been ousted in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and Yemen.  The scope of the movement covered almost all countries of Arabia and Saharan Africa.  While most of the participating nations have settled into some sort of relative peace, Syria’s movement festered into a full civil war.  Despite diplomatic efforts by countries around the world, little progress has been made to amicably settle the conflict.  Certainly Assad does not want to give up his position as president.  And why should he, his daddy (Defense Minister General Hafez al-Assad, who seized power in a “corrective revolution” in 1970) gave it to him in 2000.  Nice gift!

Bashar al-Asad

During the last few years things have gotten quite nasty there and now those with the means and initiative to use them are swarming to Europe.  It seems that from Syria it is a dry trip (meaning one does not have to swim a body of water) across Turkey, Bulgaria, and Serbia to the Hungarian border.  So why do these Muslims eschew their cultural ilk in Turkey?  Why do they not settle in Bulgaria or Serbia where there are substantial numbers of the followers of Allah?  Why do they proceed onward some thousand miles to establish their refugee camps in a Christian, Central European country?  Because Hungary is a member nation of the European Union.

From what I have gleaned watching the news, and who knows how accurate that is, the EU has a very tolerant attitude toward refugees and will support those who qualify for said status.  I do not know what the criteria for refugee status are, but I would conjecture that persecution by a mad dog despot is probably on the list: Very magnanimous of those Europeans.  We should applaud their sense of charity.  Hoo-ray, hoo-ray!

 

But wait, it seems that while the collective EU welcomes the downtrodden with open aid, Hungary, where the refugees are actually making footfall, is not so generously inclined.  Their welcome baskets seem to be filled with teargas and water cannons.  Hmm!

PS Late breaking but unrelated news:  An 8.3 magnitude earthquake occurred off of the western coast of South America at 1845 hrs (ET) Wednesday.  Well, you know what they say, “Chile today, beachfront Argentinean property tomorrow!”

How to Appear Smart

Throughout my life people have asked me, “Dale, how did you get so smart?”  I of course replied in a fashion that relied heavily on modesty and very little, if any, actual advice.  But now that I have crossed the Rubicon that is old age and no longer consider it necessary to compete for money, attention and respect, I feel it is my sacred duty to my fellow fiftieth percentile dwellers to share what I have learned about building a bigger, better intellect.  Nothing!  I am not a particularly smart guy.  I just play one in real life.  Yes, it’s all an act, honed to near perfection by years of practice avoiding hard work.

Before I actually dispense with suggestions for improving your publicly perceived peerless perspicacity let me take a few moments to share my bona fides.  My academic career was mired in mediocrity.  My high school GPA averaged just 3.0 on a 4.0 scale.  And then only because my senior year performance, spent in non-challenging vocational program that included copious field trips, earned a stunning 4.0 GPA.  Thank you George Dowdy. 

I knew that when my high school career ended I would enroll in the local Community College thereby nullifying the need to sit for the SATs.  Ergo, I have no SAT score for which to be embarrassed.  Once again, I succeeded by finding the easy way.  My college career was even less impressive: I graduated from San Diego State University nine years after completing high school.  My so called higher education GPA was a stellar 2.02.  One needs a 2.0 to be awarded a degree form that august institution.  And I spent a good deal of my tenure on academic probation.  It was a close shave.

But here is something to remember as you plan your scholastic career:  None of the details of your college experience appears on the face of your diploma.  Oh sure, it’s impressive if your sheepskin displays some phrase ending with the words cum laude.  But a prospective future employer might consider it braggadocio and classify the applicant as future competition they can avoid by the more advantageous hiring (or non-hiring to be more precise) decision of today.

Now having presented ample confirmation of my limited faculties, I will share with my dear and valued readers one of the most successful mechanisms I have developed to present a façade of knowledge, intellect and mental prowess.

Always answer a question with a question.  I know, this is in direct violation of the maxim drilled into you by parents, teachers and professional mentors as a youth.  But you must understand why you have been admonished against this useful stratagem:  Because questions put one on the defensive.  A question from a professional superior is the first foray into situational control. Your life experience and education have likely prepared you to successfully respond to most questions. But what if your inquisitor delivers a sliding sinker (Is this a proper baseball metaphor?)  You don’t want to seem suddenly delivered at the limit of your competence.  Responding to every information request with a demand for clarifying details will camouflage your diversion efforts from those instances of actual deficiency in your universe of knowledge.

The experienced, well prepared manager may be able to counter your volley off-hand by delivering yet another question, drilling to a deeper level.  Do not be intimidated.  Fortify your defense by staying on offense.  Feigning the need to more precisely understand the needs of your sparring opponent, continue to drill down until you have achieved a level of minutiae that your opponent does not command.  They will, when taxed beyond their mastery of the subject at hand, offer a truce in order that they may collect the answer to the question used to derail the initial assault.  As a side benefit to bolstering your intellectual reputation, you will enjoy the benefit of a reduced task load as questions frequently evolve into work projects.  Once your manager learns that assigning you additional work results in additional work for himself, he will find other minions to whom he can delegate special projects.

 

Do not be deluded.  This is a skill set that must be cultivated and nurtured.  To date we have found that this talent occurs naturally in one subset of the population, two-year olds.  However, asking the question “Why?” repeatedly as an adult will not result in heightened respect for ones intellectual capacity.  And it may result in a visit to the corporate psychologist.  More helpful hints of appearing smarter than you are (without the actual effort) in weeks to come.

Best-ees 3.0

Normally, I would opine on this subject matter during the All Hallows Eve season, but I saw a movie last night that inspired some thought on so-called horror movies.  From my lofty perch of intellectual self-aggrandizement, the subject genre is generally and routinely lacking in that one effect promised by its name, horror.  My experience has taught me that the true horror is that ennui that sets in while the viewer is hoping for a sensational thrill of the macabre sort.  But there are examples of the art that do engender trepidation and offer up goose-bumps much to the viewer’s delight.

The movie to which I refer is Deliver Us from Evil (2014 ScreenGems: Director Scott Derrickson).  It is of the demonic possession order and stars Eric Bana as a New York City Police sergeant who finds himself, by virtue of a series of bizarre case assignments, drawn into the realm of the supernatural.  Dish Network’s movie rating was only two of four stars but I found it engaging on several levels.  There is Sgt. Sarchie’s (Bana) loss of faith; the exorcist priest, Father Mendoza (Edger Ramirez ) battling his personal failings; the victims of the possession, three Marines returned from deployment in Iraq; and Sarchie’s wife (Olivia Munn) and daughter (Lulu Wilson) who become targets of the demon.  While I am generally immune to startle shots (…they are way too telegraphed in most films), I have to humbly admit that among the dozen or so this movie offers, they righteously got me once.  I recommend you see it if you can find it.  But the point of this missive is much broader: More Best-ees!

Seeing this movie gave me pause to reflect on the horror films I have experienced and of those which actually instilled a bit of fear into the experience.  So, for your edification and the further extension of my inexhaustible ego, here are my picks for the best horror movies (I have seen) of all time in ascending order:

No. 5 – Halloween (1978 Compass International Pictures, directed by John Carpenter):  This treasure of the “B” grade slasher movie genre is cheesy in every aspect but two; it engages your fear response and you get to see boobies.  Okay, I realize that second criteria may be a bit skewed to the male audience, but we men have so few real sanctuaries left.  I will not spoil the end of the movie for those who have not seen it, but the closing scene makes you think, “I need a bigger gun!” Oh, if your kids read this, explain to them that a booby is an extinct exotic bird; then you can pass it off as an educational film as well.  Starring: Donald Pleasance, Jamie Lee Curtis, a hockey mask.

  

No. 4 – Alien (1979 Twentieth Century Fox, directed by Ridley Scott):  Perhaps the most effective countdown movie of all time, the audience has no idea who among the crew, if any, is going to survive.  There are many clichéd horror mechanisms within this movie, perhaps the most terrifying is the sheer number of sequels and one prequel it has engendered.  And even though we knew what the “gut” shot was going to look like, we kept going back to see each new iteration of the alien that wouldn’t give up. Starring: Tom Skerrit, Sigourney Weaver, a really ugly monster.

No. 3 – The Shining (1980 Warner Bros., directed by Stanley Kubrick): There is no inference here, from the opening credits you know bad things are going to happen fast and frequently.  A frustrated writer, his demur wife, their big wheeling son (I still get goose bumps when I hear a Big Wheel on the street) and a haunted hotel; it adds up to a perfect recipe for terror.  An aside:  This is a great movie; the book (Stephen King) is better… and way scarier.  In fact, I will admit (fearful of being labeled a little girl) that when read, the topiary garden scene (replaced with the hedge maze scene in the movie), had me so scared I couldn’t get off the couch to go pee for fear of being mauled by a tree lion.  But I digress.  Starring: Jack Nicholson, Shelley Duvall, two of the freakiest twins you’ll ever see, whether they’re there or not!

No. 2 – Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956 Allied Artists Pictures, directed by Don Siegel): Yeah, I know, “What’s so scary about a giant okra pod under your bed?”  Well, if you’d ever eaten my Granny’s fried okra you’d know why I keep a supply of Tums on the nightstand.  But under the circumstances of this movie, you’re hoping for a stomach ache, or anything else to keep you awake.  The terror is you go to sleep and wake up somebody else.  Now I have gone to bed many times not remembering who I am but I’ve always, no matter how thick the hangover is next morning, known who I was upon awakening.  Where I was and how I got there are totally different issues.  Starring Kevin McCarthy, Dana Wynter, pea pods… really big pea pods.

No. 1 – Dracula (1931 Universal Pictures, directed by Tod Browning): This movie is the granddaddy of gothic horror films and why not; it is derived from the novel that is the granddaddy of all gothic novels (Bram Stoker 1897).  We are all familiar with the story of Count Dracula and his thirst for blood.  But what’s a little nibble on the neck between movie goers, especially drive-in movie goers.  No, it is not that scary and the spin-off product has brought this story to near saturation in pop culture.  But there is a bit of personal history here that heightens the fear factor.

When I was about six years old, my parents went out for the evening surrendering my care to a baby sitter.  Of course, this baby sitter completely disregarded my parents’ instructions regarding bed time (didn’t they all?) and allowed me to stay up and watch Dracula with her… maybe for moral support.  I don’t believe I understood or retained much of the thesis of the story.  But I did remember that anytime Dracula was in scene, he was wearing that cape that swayed back and forth energized by whatever wind machine was lurking out of frame.  The swinging cape, that’s what got me.  “Dale, a lion-hearted lad like yourself spooked by a cape?”

Well it so happens that our neighborhood was populated in large part by John Birch Society members.  For readers under forty years old, The John Birch Society was a right-wing, stolidly anti-communist political organization. (If you want more info, look it up.)  I didn’t know much about them but I do recall that my parents expressed some modicum of distaste for their movement.  One of the identifiers of the “Birchers” was that they all flew the American Flag at their homes.  While the rest of us would only display a flag on traditional holidays, these true red, white and blue patriots displayed it every day.  And some, like our next door neighbors, flew that Star - Spangled Banner at night requiring, per proper flag etiquette, that it be illuminated by a spot light during hours of darkness.  Well, the spotlight, flag and my window shades were so positioned in relation to each other that the flag cast a shadow, a swaying in the on-shore flow breeze shadow, on my bedroom curtains.  So every night for about two years, I lay in bed waiting for Dracula to come into my room and suck my blood until I fell asleep from pure watchful exhaustion.  There have been many aspersions cast upon my emotional and psychological stability over the years.  I proffer that this may have been one of the contributing factors.  Starring: Bela Lugosi, Helen Chandler, a guy eating bugs.

Enjoy the movies!

Katrina, Katrina

According to the headlines I read this week, it is the tenth anniversary of the devastating hurricane named Katrina.  I am catching bits and pieces of the dialogue on TV news evoking memories of the hellacious destruction rent by that storm.  I remember the death and devastation reported from the Crescent.  For God’s sake, the New Orleans Saints had to play their home games in Houston!  Or was it San Antonio?  I forget.  But as much as Texans love football, they were praying for rain. I think the memory that stayed with me most though, was that of the climate pundits who warned that this was just a harbinger of things to come.

Another scandal, I recall, was the loss of life at nursing homes for the elderly.  Apparently the surging waters made it impossible to evacuate those most vulnerable of citizens.  No, wait a minute.  I think the staff members of those affected facilities were mostly indicted for not taking appropriate care and action to safeguard their charges.  What was that word:  Abandonment?

Katrina was marking the beginning of the end.  Sea levels would rise and within a few years our coastal cities would be underwater.  Killer storms would attack with a ferocity and frequency never before seen in history or as recorded in the geologic record.  A watery doom was knocking at our door. I’m waiting.  I’ve got my life jacket in the garage. (I take this stuff seriously, even though I live at an elevation of 1,700 ft.)

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers was vilified for its lack of foresight and failure to prepare the levy system for what seems, ten years later, an anomalous event.  But not to worry, the government has spent uncounted billions on preparing the Mississippi for the next storm of Katrina like proportions.  It may be a decade, or century, or millennium before we find out just how well the improvements perform.  Our emergency services motto has become, “For the Worst Case Scenario!”  (‘cause the Feds will borrow money to pay for it).

Well, as with most predictions related to the threat of global warming (I guess the scientists have agreed to stop using that language and have shifted instead to “extreme climate change”) I’m still waiting.  Hell, I’m still waiting for the next ice age they predicted on Earth Day 1970!  As I recall we had an outdoor assembly for the purpose of inculcating us into the green fold.  And what I remember of that day’s weather was the fear-driven chill I felt as the sweat rolled off my forehead into my eyes.

I spend much of my TV time allotment watching educational programming.  My favorite subject is astronomy (cosmology, astrophysics, etc.).  And most recently, there have been many shows devoted to the future viability of Earth as a life friendly biosphere.  And it’s not.  Between the constant increase in energy output from the Sun, which is the single most critical element affecting our terrestrial weather, and the weakening of our magnetosphere, which keeps the solar wind from glowing away our atmosphere (the air we breathe, no matter what the temperature is), we’re pretty much screwed survival wise.  So, yeah; I’m running my air conditioner at full speed this evening, carbon footprint be damned!

If you are wondering, “Dale, where is your usual humorous bent?  Where is the funny we’re so used to?”  Sorry, the subject matter just doesn’t support it this week.

Poop!

Yeah, you read it right.  Poop!  No, not Pooh; that’s a fictional character that has trouble dressing himself (if you don’t understand that allusion, e-mail me and I’ll explain it).

I engaged a young acquaintance of mine in conversation regarding her recent vacation.  As the sojourn was of a wilderness bent, I asked her, in hopes of generating some shock humor, if she had carried out her poop.

For the non-rustics out there, primitive camping (among other things) translates to no restroom facilities.  In my backpacking days, to answer the call to nature one dropped their backpack, grabbed their roll of toilet paper and hiked off of the trail.  Hidden behind some sort of vegetation for modesty’s sake, a hole was dug, pants were lowered, the squat position was assumed and there you go (literally).  The hiker buried the evidence as best they could and returned to the trail to continue the day’s trek.

Sometime after my retirement from backpacking, the rules were changed.  The official authority now requires that stool be packed out.  It seems that the increased interest in outdoor communion pushed the ecosystem beyond its capacity to integrate the human contribution into the soil in an efficient manner.  Testing of meadows and such demonstrated that human digestive bacteria was polluting the ground water and grazing leas.  Apparently, it is not to the deer population’s benefit to ingest feces tainted grass.

I will not share the answer that my question generated.  But I was surprised, taken aback really, that this question caused absolutely no anxiety; no nervous titter, no embarrassed blush.  In fact, we proceeded to have quite an in depth discussion of human evacuation practices and experience.  You just have to love the Millenials!

It seems that the heirs apparent to human culture skipped over the lessons on polite discourse and in so doing are rather uninhibited regarding most topics.  I am starting to understand the tattoos and body piercings.  I don’t particularly care for them, but I think I’m getting it.  Somewhere along the way, as we progressed form Boomers to X-gens to Y-gens to Millenials, the veneer of shame was stripped away and inhibitions disappeared.  The hippies of my youth (all burned out dope smokers now) were rank amateurs by comparison.

Let me make my point completely clear.  I am not criticizing the generation poised to rule the world in the coming twenty years.  Quite to the contrary, I applaud their sense of freedom.  Perhaps, with some of the walls of propriety breached, they will find the harmonies necessary for peaceful coexistence that have eluded us.  Or, maybe we won’t.

At any rate, I’m not going to live that much longer so if it turns out they chose the wrong path, I won’t be too much inconvenienced.  In the meantime, Millenials, I salute you: Just as long as you don’t poop on my grave.

   

Perseid Meteor Shower 2015

As you read this Thursday (Aug. 13, 2015) you will be saddened to learn that last night, between 11:00 PM and 4:00 AM this morning was the optimal viewing time for this year’s iteration of the Perseid meteor shower.  And this is supposed to be a banner year as the event is occurring during a new moon (not visible).  I guess that will teach you to rely on me for all things scientific.  But don’t despair; you should be able to experience a relatively satisfying observation tonight during the same time window.

Comet Swift-Tuttle

“So what causes a meteor shower?” you ask.  Well, as we perceive it, it seems like dozens, or hundreds depending on conditions, of little lights are falling from the sky.  In reality, the Earth, in its normal orbital trip around the Sun, is barging through a debris field of very small remnants of material blown off of a comet as it made its way around on its own orbital path.  In the case of the Perseid shower, the debris is from the comet Swift-Tuttle.  Swift-Tuttle was discovered independently by Lewis Swift and Horace Tuttle in 1862.  It was last close enough to Earth to be visible in 1992 (I saw it.  Did you?).  As the comet nears the Sun (one orbit takes 133 years) the solar wind heats the ice enough that some of it melts and is left as a trail in the orbital path.

Every year, in its normal orbit around the Sun, the Earth crosses the Swift-Tuttle’s debris trail and the collisions between the Earth’s atmosphere and the tiny little pieces of ice (and perhaps some minerals) light up as “shooting stars” as they burn up in our atmosphere.  It is really the Earth’s trespass into the comet’s debris field that causes the light show.  This happens independent of where the comet is in its orbit.

Although the peak viewing window was last night, you will still have an opportunity to witness a fairly good show, weather conditions allowing, Thursday night/Friday morning. While you can see the meteors in any quadrant of the sky, the direction from which most will emanate is north.  The shower is named “Perseid” as it is the Perseus constellation from which they seem to be radiating.  But remember, we are running into them.  You needn’t focus solely on the radiant (apparent source) as the distribution of occurrences will be somewhat random across the sky.  The only danger is if you get dizzy form looking up and fall down.

The highest concentration of meteors will once again be between midnight and 4:00 AM.  If you have trouble finding these “shooting stars”, feel free to not call me.  I am unplugging my phone when I go to bed.

PS  The weather did not cooperate overnight, thus I saw no shooting stars... alas.  Hope you have better luck tonight.