The Last Word

By: | May 26, 2018

May 21 – 25, 2018

Sarah’s ingenious new way of measuring the heat index: a finely-calibrated, exquisitely-sensitive dogmometer.  You won’t know how you lived without one.

Jenny’s guide to the healthiest ingestion of insects (it’s called entomophagy, but you already knew that) includes nutritive value and the all-important assessment of flavor.

Former Person of LWON, Roberta Kwok, on the only way that olden-times people could look at images in groups and be educated & entertained thereby: the magic lantern.

Jessa has veered off the straight-and-narrow of journalism over to ghostwriting, and finds pleasure, appreciation, and a reasonable living.  Move over, Jessa.

Under the spectacular pictures of volcanos/earthquakes/tornadoes/hurricanes/fires/floods and behind the fascinating science, are people who go through it and know what it’s like and what it means.

 

Redux: Much As I Loved It, I’m Not Going Back

By: | May 25, 2018

We live surrounded in time by unavoidable, uncontrollable catastrophes.  Depending on where we live, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, volcanoes, and wildfires are just a matter of time.  When they happen, they’re all over the news and for good reason, those of us who are not wiped out like to ignore those of us who are.  Here’s an old catastrophe that might become new again.

This originally ran February 4, 2014.  It begins:  Behind science news stories, which are facts or predictions of facts, is a reality which gives them their context and sometimes their meaning.

Science magazine, January 23, 2014: “A new analysis . . . indicates that modern-day rumblings in the New Madrid Seismic Zone are not echoes of the 1811 to 1812 quakes, however. Instead, they are signs the seismic zone is still alive and kicking.”

Like New Madrid, Missouri, my home in Baltimore, Maryland is in the stable center of the stable North American plate.  Earthquakes don’t happen here, except when they do.  July 22, 2010, a little magnitude 3.6 earthquakerumbled through my bedroom and back out again, I woke up, thought “Oh, earthquake,” and went back to sleep.

August 23, 2011, a much bigger magnitude 5.8 earthquake rumbled into my office building, stuck around for a bit, left, then came back and rumbled around some more.  The four-story 19th century brick factory building shimmied, it shuddered, and I was viscerally afraid.  Like when I was a kid in the cellar because the radio was saying a tornado was coming and the air was thick, the sky was dark, the winds in the clouds going crazy and tearing apart the black clouds showing their green insides.  Whatever is happening, it’s big.  And I’m small, soft, and easily smashed, and I’m afraid. I’m so afraid. Continue reading →

The Joys of Ghostwriting

By: | May 24, 2018

I remember the thrill of my first byline. The feeling faded pretty quickly but it returned every time I broke into a new publication and saw my name on the page of a magazine I respected. Having a little bit of name recognition has been useful. But for the last seven years—the same length of time I’ve been blogging here—I’ve been gravitating more and more toward writing under someone else’s name.

For the general public, ghostwriting has a mysterious air about it. Nobody quite knows how secret it’s supposed to be and how you can tell when someone didn’t write their book themselves. To fellow writers, though, ghostwriting is not a well-regarded activity. It’s kind of déclassé—the top-tier writers seldom do it—and the mendacity of the whole thing puts journalists on edge.

If my colleagues are being generous, they put my ghostwriting into the same general sell-out category as communications work—the place where journalists go to die, lemming-like, throwing ourselves onto Print Media’s funeral pyre. Continue reading →

Guest* Post: The Scientist Who Became Obsessed with Magic Lanterns

By: | May 23, 2018
A magic lantern slide.

When Kentwood Wells was 12 years old, he and his parents stumbled across a magic lantern in an antique shop during a Maine vacation. The instrument, an old image projector that used a kerosene lamp for illumination, came with beautiful German glass slides depicting scenes of hunters, soldiers, and children. Wells’ family became fascinated by these historical objects and started collecting them on trips. One of their rituals was to bring a bottle of kerosene and project pictures on the wall of their room. “Luckily, we didn’t burn down any motels,” he says.

Wells grew up, went to college to study biology, and dropped the hobby. He became a herpetologist at the University of Connecticut, investigating questions such as how frogs communicate and care for their young. But after his parents passed away in 2003, leaving him a collection of about 85 magic lanterns and roughly 5,000 slides, he decided to return to the topic. “That was the main motivation—just to do something other than having all this stuff sitting in a cabinet in my house,” he says. Wells began editing The Magic Lantern Gazette, a publication of the Magic Lantern Society of the United States and Canada, and scouring newspaper archives for details about the use of these instruments in 19th- and early 20th-century American society. Continue reading →

Redux: Meal, Worm

By: | May 22, 2018

shutterstock_108198206Reminder: There’s protein in that there bug. (And yes, I know that “bug” and “insect” aren’t one in the same, but please allow it.) Can you stomach this redux written long before my vegetarian days? Sure you can.

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I eat meat. Most kinds. Beef, pork, chicken, bison, turkey.* Dark meat, white meat, legs, breasts. I’m not big on lamb—too much flavor, or perhaps too fragrant. Same goes for goat and venison. And I say no to veal, no matter how delicious it may be. Not that other farm animals aren’t treated poorly, but those little lambs immobile in those tiny crates…I can’t stand it.

Even if we promise to be cruelty free, those of us who are carnivores think little about carving away parts of animals to gobble down the protein and fat and vitamins disguised within. And yet, when we think about another kind of meat, insect meat, we cringe in disgust.

Of course, it’s all about what you’re used to. People who grow up with insects (and their insect-like relatives) for dinner don’t consider them unpalatable. But those who shriek bloody murder at a spider sighting or own the long-handled “bug vacuum” (try SkyMall) to avoid close encounters are less likely to order grasshopper tacos, if given the option. Give us our ground up cow or shredded chicken any day.

I’ve asked around. Part of what turns some away from entomophagy (insect eating) is the idea that you are eating the whole animal then and there. A baking sheet in the oven with rows of caterpillars—full bodies, lots of legs, and eye-topped stalks intact—is somehow harder to stomach than the wings of a bird on a grill (which don’t really look like what they are at that point). And there’s the “ick” factor of bugs to begin with. Other than spidery basements or mothy pantries, most modern houses are pretty good at keeping insects out. And when bugs do find gaps and sneak in, we are willing to spray noxious chemicals rather than spoon a weevil out of our oatmeal.

We’re fooling ourselves, though: Continue reading →

Redux: Doom and the Dogmometer

By: | May 21, 2018

This post originally appeared June 21, 2017

One way to understand a really big problem is to break it down into more manageable parts. That’s why scientists use specific, smaller systems to help them grasp the overall health of the planet. The Arctic, for example, is regarded as a bellwether for the catastrophes of climate change that will soon afflict us all, thanks to its temperatures that are rising faster than those in any other region on Earth. There’s also the escalating loss of glacier ice around the world. Or this week’s “heat attack,” which will basically force residents of the American Southwest to go hide deep underground in caves or risk perishing in temperatures predicted to climb past 120 degrees Fahrenheit.

But since long before the famous hockey stick graph, scientists have also secretly relied on another, much more ancient analog to skry the hot ’n’ doomy future: The dogmometer.

The dogmometer is an accurate indicator of ambient air temperature, gradating from “so cold I have reduced my body to the size of a fist and buried my face in my own butt” to “all the other dog owners buy kiddie pools when it’s this hot, you asshat” and “OK I’m basically dead of hotness I will never move again not even for treats.” But its readings are more precise than a regular thermometer’s, because they also incorporate a dog’s uncanny ability to pick up on ambient vibes to put those temperatures in local, regional, and even global ecological and geopolitical context.

Even better, you don’t need some fancy degree to read a dogmometer. And you’d better learn, because with Trump in the Whitehouse, U.S. government funding for climate change research is bound to plunge. Here, let’s go through some examples. More…

 

The Last Word

By: | May 19, 2018

May 14-18, 2018

To start the week, Emma has some good news: butterflies are adapting more nimbly to the Anthropocene that some might have thought. This happy ending surprised the researchers. “Our mindset in 2014 was simply to reconfirm the extinction, and we were very surprised to find larvae,” they write. To be fair, ecologists are often unprepared for good news.

Michelle reduxes a post about the taxonomically-frustrating caribou—and a collaborative study about these animals. When he explained to them that Polfus was asking whether residents would be willing to collect caribou scat in exchange for gasoline gift cards, they thought at first they had misunderstood; then, they burst out laughing.

Abstruse Goose is back! Hooray!!

Cassie has a pain in the ankle, and ends up accidentally getting a reflexology treatment that sets off her skeptic alarms . . . and a surprising sense of hope. I lay quietly and tried not to grimace or yelp or giggle as J– pressed her fingers deep into my feet while saying things like “your breast area feels great,” “your kidney is tense,” and “you have so many ribs out,” a phrase I find totally baffling.

At the end of the week, Rebecca takes us to the moon, where a Lunar Library may be installed in 2020—a moon landing that is a different kind of giant leap. It is a reflection of our most fundamental desire, the deepest ache in all our hearts that ties us to everyone who has ever lived. It is a way for us to send versions of ourselves into the future.

*

Image: Thomas Cole, The Course of Empire: Desolation, via Wikimedia Commons (public domain)

 

To The Moon, For the Last Refuge of Human Knowledge

By: | May 18, 2018

After several thousand years spent looking up and contemplating the nature of the cosmos, as well as what’s for dinner, we humans have amassed a lot of knowledge. We know the precise age of the Earth and the universe. We know how life sends copies of itself into the future. We know, with amazing accuracy, how strange mistakes in those copies lead to endless forms of life. We know who won the 1998 World Series and how to calculate area and the best way to make a beef bourginon. This is a lot of information to have in one brain, so humans also invented a way to offload some of that information and store it someplace else, through writing.

The loss of collective knowledge, either through deliberate acts of destruction or via accidents, remains one of the most potent sources of psychic pain — at least on a humanistic level. So there was something so touching about the press release I got from Astrobotic Technologies this week. Continue reading →