Context Is Everything

Along one of the streets in downtown Minneapolis, there is an ad on a bus kiosk. It wants people to support concrete as a paving decision.



Looking to the right, it's certainly easy to see potholes. In concrete.



Next time, they might want to consider just where they want their ads to appear. Oops.

Experiment IV

I read about Republicans getting stupid over NSF grants and shook my head. I'd prefer to not believe it, but....

Then I read that one of these grants studied sounds for video games, and I sat up. Sure, I thought. Sure that's what they're studying. Uh, huh.

Experiment IV

We won't be there to be blamed.
We won't be there to snitch.

No, I know better.

Post-Traumatic Debate Disorder

You may have PTDD if:

• Nobody really disagrees with you.
  
• People who claim they disagree with you are being dishonest.
• People who claim they disagree with you are out to get you.
• You argue that someone (else) getting mobbed online "deserved it."
• You find yourself not understanding a lot of things but don't ask any questions.
• You consider accounting for differing situations to be hypocrisy.
  
• You don't know what your goal is in an argument, but that doesn't stop you.
• You view all discussions that consist of more than, "Yeah, me too," as arguments.
• All disagreements have a right and a wrong.
• All disagreements must have a winner and loser.
  
• Wrong = evil, unforgivable, delusional.
  
• You alone understand what everyone "intends" by what they say. Better than the speaker.
  
• You consider sympathy for both sides in a disagreement to be the same thing as no sympathy for either.
• You crave real-world consequences for things said online, but not for you.

These are but a small sampling of the symptoms of PTDD. If you find yourself experiencing any of these symptoms, it is highly recommended that you log off the internet immediately. Further treatment may consist of quarantine to avoid denialists of all stripes, lots of face-to-face and eye-to-eye conversation, and outdoor exercise.

I'm Torn

It's Donors Choose time again at ScienceBlogs. I've contributed in the past, even earning myself a beautiful print from Jessica at Bioephemera. (That's right, Comrade PhysioProf and I have the same art hanging on our walls, and we're both very happy about it.)

But right now, well....

Philippines

Authorities are bracing for what they described as another "major problem" that may be caused by potential super typhoon "Pepeng" this weekend while the country is still recovering from the massive damage incurred from tropical storm "Ondoy," (international code name: "Ketsana").

The National Disaster Coordinating Council executive officer and concurrent Office of the Civil Defense administrator Glenn Rabonza said on Thursday they are expecting downpour in Metro Manila, one of the areas hardest hit by "Ondoy" which wrecked havoc last weekend.

Meanwhile, data from the NDCC indicated that as of 3 p.m. Thursday, the casualty toll from "Ondoy" has risen to 280 dead, 42 missing and four injured. About 512,092 families or 2,506,845 persons have been affected and caused about P4.8 billion (about $101 million) in damages to agriculture and infrastructure.

United Nations World Food Programme Unicef
Also World Vision (Vietnam)

Samoa

Before the disaster struck, the majority of the population in American Samoa lived below the poverty line, with tuna canneries, coconut plantations and tourism representing the bulk of the territory's economic activity.

The canneries produce the tuna consumed in millions of American households, with StarKist and Chicken of the Sea having huge factories on American Samoa. But the local tuna industry has been in turmoil since the companies were forced to pay workers the U.S.-mandated minimum wage, something they have historically avoided.

Long before the tsunami hit, Chicken of the Sea planned to close its packing plant on the island this week and lay off more than 2,100 workers, amounting to a double-whammy for workers who lost their jobs and saw their homeland ravaged by disaster in the same week.

Operation USA

Sumatra

Throughout a chaotic Thursday in Padang, rescue workers, soldiers and frantic residents searched together into the night with precious little earth-moving equipment or electricity, combing crushed offices, hotels, hospitals and schools for survivors.

The death toll rose to 1,100 people on Thursday, with many hundreds more injured, according to John Holmes, the United Nations humanitarian coordinator, speaking at a news conference at the United Nations.

“I fear these numbers will rise as more information becomes available,” Mr. Holmes said.

On Thursday morning, just as the city’s airport was reopening and rescue teams were setting to work, Padang was rattled by another earthquake, this one registering a magnitude of 6.6. This second quake, which hit about 150 miles south of Padang, damaged hundreds of buildings in the nearby town of Jambi, officials said. There were no reports of casualties so far from the second temblor, Mr. Holmes said.

Operation USA

The Mooney/Kirshenbaum Strategy

I must issue an apology to Chris Mooney and Sheril Kirshenbaum. I admit to having wondered whether their intention in criticizing the world's most popular science blogger and a much-awarded science communicator whose books all remain in print as being bad for science literacy was merely to generate publicity for their own book. After all, picking a fight with someone better known than you has proven successful in drawing heaps of attention to people who would otherwise be ignored.

But lo, I shouldn't have doubted, for while digging back into the history of such conflicts, I discovered what their true purpose in making such an attack must be, and it is a noble purpose. They are simply trying to help the "New Atheists"' cause. We already know atheism has a huge PR problem.

No, I suspect this is a gift to Pharyngula, a gift to Richard Dawkins. The controversy raises the profile of the New Atheists, people--especially with a book like this, which is by its very nature courting controversy and baiting working science communicators.

It took some time and thought, but I must now conclude that Chris and Sheril are doing more here than merely trying to set themselves up as a new voice emerging reflecting our diversity, tolerance, the encouragement of ideas, and ultimately, in fact, promoting a similar message to that of Expelled...that we must question what we're told--in religion, in science, in life.

Because if the general public thinks all they've got to say is 'shut up,' they lose.

Appalled

Talk about disgracing your profession.

According to the criminal complaint:

The pastor, identified in the complaint only as "M.S.O.," first contacted Byington about three years ago by answering an ad for an exotic dancer. He began seeing her at her home in Fargo for dance shows. Eventually, the pastor started paying Byington for sex.

In March, the pastor said he wanted to stop paying her and hoped they could consider their relationship as an affair.

On May 14, she told the pastor that he had to give her $6,000 to keep her from telling his wife and the bishop about their relationship.

Really, I expect better from exotic dancers.

Libertarian Paradise

Too many of them don't listen to themselves, but that hasn't stopped the vacation planners from listening to them.



The makers of the video would like you to know that they didn't start it.

Totally stolen from Vic.

My New Favorite YouTube Channel

"In fairness, Michele Bachmann probably does not have testicles."



"Revolutionaries don't cry! Revolutionaries don't cry!"



Thank you, James.

Norm Coleman Is In

...the Urban Dictionary.

Dude 1: I can't believe my brother is still trying to be an olympic swimmer.
Dude 2: Really, isn't he incontinent?
Dude 1: Yeah man. They banned him from the pool. But every morning he keeps trying to sneak in.
Dude 2: That's weak. He wasn't even that great of a swimmer to begin with.
Dude 1: Yeah, the team, the coach and especially the janitors hate him more and more every day. There's no point in continuing this. He's really pulling a Norm Coleman.

(Totally stolen from Laurie.)

And just in case you didn't get enough teabagging jokes yesterday, people are teabagging movie quotes on Twitter. Oh, yeah.

A Royal Scandal?

Rumors swirled in the monarchy of Heckofalot today, as the Twitter account of The Princess filled with what at first appeared to be postmodern song lyrics:

/;;;;;;..[;[;[;;[;[;;;[[[[p;[[[]][]'[;;[[]\\]]'[;pp[o/ki/'ookk/kkoo''/000/..0'++===p-///=/9i-//uuhh

and later lapsed into apparent code:

.-.0.000/

000000.00

Residents were first amused but rapidly grew concerned for the safety of the royal family. They were promptly reassured by The Prince (or is he The Butler?).

Ummm... Ignore those tweets from @bethanyg. The "Tiny Tyrant" got to her machine before I could close the lid.

The Princess threw her voice and authority behind the story.

Sorry - while I was at Arts Advocacy day, @duchessbeatrix decided to reinvent social media — on my account.

However, rather than calm the masses, these Tweets only raised new concerns. Her Grace, the Duchess of Heckofalot has long been known to Tweet in her own distinct voice.

Thank you to everyone who attended the my official birthday celebration at the palace. Thanks to everyone else for wishing you could.

This charmingly despotic voice is also in evidence at Her Grace's blog.

Unlike other monarchies, we do not grant knighthood to any random pop music star or captain of industry that wonders in the door (Britain I am looking at you). We take such titles seriously here. To become a knight in Heckofalot, I will beat you on the head with my scepter until you cry and beg me for a title. Not only will this prove you worthy but it also makes me giggle.

None of these official communications did anything to prepare the citizens of Heckofalot for today's Tweets. "Is something wrong with our dear Duchess?" they wondered aloud. "Surely, The Princess and The Prince (or is he The Butler?) would tell us if anything were amiss!"

But that was only the public speculation. Away from the prying eyes of the pervasive social media, other theories were put forth. People spoke in hushed tones of thwarted invasions and aborted palace coups. They also whispered of a theory that your correspondent trembles to commit to print.

Yes, in their offline privacy, the citizens of Heckofalot turned to one another and asked, "Does our Duchess tipple while she Tweets?"

Thin Ice

There comes a point, at least once in every Minnesota winter, when the worst thing that someone can do is try to keep the sidewalks free of snow. Most of the time, we want clean sidewalks but not always. With months to go yet before we see warm, dry ground, we've already had a few of these days here.

They come in two flavors. The first kind of day when benign neglect is helpful is the melty day. This is when the ground is still rock hard, but the sun comes out and a warm breeze blows in. Piles of snow shrink and flow away--toward the frozen-over storm sewers. Then the sun sets.

Two things can happen at this point. The water can mix with the packed snow still on the sidewalk and turn into a slushy mess that eventually freezes with boot- and bikeprints all over the surface. It sounds ugly, but the alternative is for the water to flow in thin, smooth sheets over a clean sidewalk. The result is an patchy skating rink, tilted slightly toward the street and traffic. I'll take the rough ice.

The second kind of day when maintenance is unhelpful is the very cold day--with snow. By very cold, I mean right around 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Snow at these temperatures is pretty rare, since air that cold is very dry. It generally requires warmer air up where the clouds are. But it does happen.

When it does, all the businesses downtown get out their power brooms to keep the snow from building up on the sidewalks. This is what they do for any snowfall, and I'm usually happy to see the brooms. Usually, they make my walk much easier. Not on the cold days, though. When slightly damp snow hits a 0-degree sidewalk, it sticks, and no broom is going to get it back up. All the broom can do is knock the snowflake flat.

Power broom, aka sidewalk polisher.
Usually seen with a weather enclosure.

Once again, the safest place to be in on a sidewalk that no one cares for too zealously. It won't be clean, dry pavement, but it won't be a highly polished surface either.

So what do you do when you're stuck walking on the shiniest of ice? Again, two scenarios (aside from getting down on your ass and scooting along the ground). The first, and most popular, is the penguin shuffle. This involves tiny little steps to keep your feet under you and hands held somewhat stiffly by your sides, ready to be thrown in whatever direction is needed for balance. It also involves small cheeps as the inevitable slips and slides still occur.

The other option is much faster. It will get you plenty of strange looks, though, as it will be less familiar looking to most people, even if no dorkier than pretending you're a penguin. If you do tai chi or bellydance or practice any number of other forms of exercise that place a high value on strong, smooth movement, this will be easy. It'll still feel funny, but you'll get the hang of it.

Bend your knees.

Really, that's it. That's the best advice for walking on ice. Bend your knees as much as is comfortable and keep them bent as you walk along. You'll find you don't lift your feet as much, so they're always near the ground. When you do start to slide a little, your legs be in a position to deliver maximum power, flexing or extending, whichever way you need to go. But you won't need it as much, because your center of gravity will already be lower.

Thus ends today's lesson on ice. I didn't really have a point in writing this much about it, but it seemed, somehow, that if I was going to deal with as much of it as I already have this winter, I ought to get something out of it.

A blog post will have to do.

Ensign Sparky, A Fable

Sometimes, things just collide in my head. In this case, it was these posts from Dr. Isis and these posts from DrugMonkey. This particular story, however, is in no way their fault. Yeah, it gets a little strange in here.

Ensign Sparky heard a high-pitched scream and ran forward, pulling out his phaser. Rounding the corner into the Enterprise's dining area, he saw only his captain. Confused, he looked into the corners of the room.

"Ensign!" It came out as a squeak.

Sparky turned back toward his captain and took in the details he had missed in his haste. How could he have failed to note that Kirk was crouching on a chair? His hairpiece askew, his lower lip clenched in his teeth--those were things he could have overlooked. The cowering posture? Not so much.

Kirk cleared his throat. "Ensign!" His voice dropped back to normal.

Sparky snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!"

"Is it gone?"

"Sir?"

Kirk pointed to the floor without letting go of his legs. "Is it gone?"

Sparky looked around, unsure what he was supposed to be seeing. Just as he was about to declare the room clean, he saw movement near the replicator. It was just a tiny flick of...was it a tail? Then it was gone. He marched to the replicator to investigate.

"Be careful!" Kirk's voice drifted upward again.

Sparky pried loose the panel below the chute. More than a dozen tiny things scurried out. He didn't know what else to call the half fuzzy, half leathery creatures that rushed away into shadows.

Kirk screamed again. "Get them! Get them!"

Doubting the propriety of permanently zapping anything that moved like his favorite pet lizard, Sparky set his phaser on its lowest stun setting. As the ensign moved around the room, Kirk squeaked out bloodthirsty encouragement. Then, just as Sparky stunned the last of them, the captain screamed again.

Sparky whipped around. Another of the strange creatures was wriggling its way out of the guts of the replicator. He stunned it too. "All taken care of, sir."

Kirk was still huddled on the chair, staring at the replicator.

"Uh, sir?"

Kirk blinked but didn't look away. "Get me out of here."

"Yes, sir." The captain didn't move. Not sure what to do, Sparky stepped up and held out a hand. "May I help you down, sir?"

Kirk shook his head vigorously. "There might be more of them!"

"Yes, sir." Sparky stepped around behind the chair and tugged on its back. The chair didn't move but Kirk wobbled. He squeaked again.

Sparky sighed. "May I carry you, sir?"

"Of course, ensign."

Scooping the fetally curled captain into his arms wasn't easy, but Sparky managed. Kirk relaxed slightly.

Once they'd passed through the doorway, Kirk uncurled enough to run one finger along Sparky's collarbone. "Blue isn't really your color, ensign. Do you have any engineering background?"

Sparky swallowed. "No, sir."

"Tactical it is, then." Kirk snuggled closer to Sparky. "You'll look so much better in red."

Sparky didn't say anything. He knew about Kirk's young men. Everyone did. Cushy assignment while it lasted but all too likely to end in disaster when Kirk got bored.

Luckily, they heard footsteps ahead just then. Kirk pushed frantically at Sparky's chest. "Put me down!"

Sparky was happy to oblige. The captain straightened his shirt and his hair.

A small squad in red came into sight just ahead and stopped. Their leader stepped forward. "Captain, we heard a report of phaser discharge. Is everything okay, sir?"

Kirk waved away their concern with an excess of nonchalance. "Nothing I couldn't handle." He looked down. "Still, you may accompany me to the bridge."

Sparky was trying to slip away when he felt the captain's hand on his shoulder. "You too, ensign."

Kirk tapped his communicator. "Bones meet me on the bridge in..." He glanced from Sparky to the floor. "Oh, better make it right now."

Sparky had never been on the bridge before. It was a little intimidating, especially when Kirk made him stand just behind the captain's chair as he chewed out Dr. McCoy.

"Bones, you said this was all taken care of after the Tribbles incident. You were supposed to recalibrate the ship's contraception field for every new animal brought on board."

McCoy looked somehow even more sour than usual. "Damn it, Jim, I did. The creature you saw matches the description of Chekhov's new pet, and Nurse Kelly and I recalibrated the field for that."

"Doctor Kelly." A young woman stepped out from behind McCoy. Sparky noticed that she was wearing nonregulation boots to very good effect. "I'm every bit the doctor that you are, McCoy."

Kirk held up a hand to forestall an explosion from McCoy. "Then perhaps, Dr. Kelly, you can explain to us what happened."

"Of course." Dr. Kelly shrugged, which did fascinating things to the hem of her tunic. "Dr. McCoy didn't allow me to test the contraception field thoroughly."

"What!?" Sparky thought McCoy's head might explode. "I told you to use the standard protocol!"

"Standard protocol is to test the males, McCoy. This little creature has six sexes."

Kirk smiled. "Six? How interesting. Why didn't you tell me this, McCoy?"

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a veterinarian. Who cares whether some animal has six sexes or thirteen?"

Full-on squabbling broke out between McCoy and Kelly. Kirk tapped his chin thoughtfully with his forefinger. "Thirteen? Really? Hmm."

Eventually, Spock stepped between the doctors. "If I may?"

Kirk started from his reverie. "What? Oh, yes. Bones, nurse!"

"Doctor!"

"Whatever." Kirk looked at Spock. "You were saying?"

"It seems only logical, captain, that one should test a device in all the sexes available. Human ideas of contraception depend on a standard male-female model, and if the device is only proven to work on males, any females who come into contact with a nonstandard sex may not be protected--obviously, as today's incident shows."

McCoy exploded in earnest at this point. Sparky could barely make out the words, although "green Vulcan blood" was repeated several times.

Dr. Kelly moved away from the fight toward Uhuru, who looked suddenly upset. Sparky was confused. Hadn't she heard McCoy swear at Spock before? Everyone else on the ship had.

The doctor and the communications officer left the bridge together, and Sparky thought it was a wonderful idea. However, as he took a step toward the door, he heard Kirk clear his throat.

"When you boys are done fighting and making up, do see if you can't do something about keeping these things from breeding. I'll be in my cabin when--" He looked over at Sparky. "I'll check back in later."

The captain caught Sparky's arm on the way to the door. "Walk with me, ensign. We need to discuss your transfer--and your uniforms."

Sparky sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable. "Yes, sir." They left the bridge.

Bad Ad

Seen on a billboard for a local auto repair chain:

We'll leave the hoist up for you.

Proof positive that advertising account executives not only have no idea how to care for their own cars but also have no interest in knowing anything about it. The hoist, of course, is only accessible in the down position.

Ironically, many shops do put the hoist up before shutting off the power and going home, but this is to make it inaccessible. Silly ad people.

Now someone just has to explain to me how they got the company to buy the slogan.

Miss Her Yet?

Palin, that is. If so, you're in luck. You can keep her with you for another year by getting the Sarah Palin 2009 wall calendar. No, really. See?



I couldn't make this up. Well, I could, but I have standards.

Those teeth scare me.

Palin on Afghanistan

Today:

Three days after a mostly gaffe-free debate performance, the Alaska governor fumbled during a speech in which she praised U.S. soldiers for “fighting terrorism and protecting us and our democratic values”.

“They are also building schools for the Afghan children so that there is hope and opportunity in our neighboring country of Afghanistan,” she told several hundred supporters at a fundraising event in San Francisco.

Sorry, no video available yet.

I guess it's not too surprising. Previously, she thought that sharing a border automatically meant knowing something about the other country. Now she's just turned that logic around.

When do I get to vote against her already?

What Is the Difference?

Like any good narcissist blogger, I like to see what search terms people are using to find my blog. The most common are "perfect margaritas" and "stereotypes in comedy." I got a new one yesterday, though, a good one.

"What is the difference between Palin and Bachmann?"

What an excellent question. I could talk about the similarities from now until the election (and be warned, I may), but differences? Huh. Well, here goes.

• Sarah Palin hunts wolves from helicopters. Michele Bachmann hunts queers from the bushes.
• Palin tries to deny using a teleprompter. Bachmann makes it all too obvious she's just reading something she doesn't understand.
• Palin's never snogged a leader of the free world, at least not on camera. She may have winked at Putin from her kitchen window, though.
• Palin's hair and wardrobe only admit to being a few years out of date. Bachmann's are screaming that Reagan is still president, damnit.

Okay, this is harder than it looks. The similarities are so much easier. Want to help in the comments?

Alternately, you could send a few bucks to Bachmann's opponent and make sure Bachmann doesn't go back to Washington where she can do more harm. That would be a similarity worth seeing.

Recipe for Dealing with Disaster

Ingredients
For Disaster
1 mother in hospital with acute heart problems
1 father who is coping with less than his usual annoying cheer
1 year already studded with too many family problems

For Dealing
1 date finally scheduled for surgery
1 sibling who can share responsibility
1 friend who has a problem father can help solve
1 evening out with friends
1 Cuban roast pork shoulder with fixings
Choice of rum and coke or gin and tonic
1 viewing of The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension
Liberal dose of snark

Directions
Shake with laughter and release pressure valve.

Feel better soon, Nancy.

Do I Do That?

So I was at the local ScienceBlogs million comment party last night. I was talking to Amanda Laden about something to do with Greg's blog. She started a comment, obviously meant to lead to some other point, with, "There was the guy you were arguing with recently."

I though, Let's see, most recently. "Do you mean X?"

"No." She shook her head. "I know X."

"You don't mean Y?" That was moderately high-profile, as low-profile internet slap fights go.

She waved a hand dismissively.

I thought harder. "Well, I've been going back and forth with Z a bit lately over the election."

She frowned. "No, that wasn't it either."

We never figured out who it was, and I never did find out what the rest of her point was going to be. I did, however, discover that it's possible, just barely possible, that I have a tendency to get into arguments in the blogosphere. Who knew?

Slick 4 Prez

Oh, how I love Sinfest. Er, it's a cartoon. With something to offend everyone. Last week, it was the Republicans.

Start here to watch Slicky choose his VP. Get introduced to the concept of a PILF. And whatever you do, don't stop reading before the "hair-off."

They're Daleks? That Explains So Much

A friend flew out of town on Sunday. While in the airport, he noticed something curious.

The RNC still had an ad running in the commercial loop on the TV monitors in the bookstores. I knew I'd heard the music before, and finally placed it ... it's the Kaled victory march! I loitered in the bookstore and watched that ad at least 3 times, just to be sure. No, I'm not kidding.

The Kaled victory march, for those of you less geeky than my friend (or all of you), is from I, Davros, a Doctor Who audio play done by Big Finish Productions.

For context: this is right after the councilors are exterminated by Davros, and Davros is making his big power play.

Davros being the leader of the Daleks. You know the Daleks.



McCain, Davros. The RNC, Daleks. Beautiful. They really couldn't have done much better if they'd tried, now could they?