The Last Word

February 2 – 6

Ann gave us a posthumous profile of Charles Hard Townes, whom you can thank for astronomers being able to peer inside the centre of the Milky Way, and for conscientious physicists advising the US Defense Department without being muzzled.

Fancy a moth in maroon velvet? Grotesque ripple-lines? Giddy exclamation points and mindblown italics? Check out Roberta’s tour down the rabbit hole of hundred-year-old scientific papers.

Abstruse Goose advances a bold idea about how to organise your bookshelf (n.b. baby sleep books go next to VHS Repair)

Richard wants to know if the workings of general relativity are part of the mainstream of your thoughts. Does it blow your mind or is it just meh, gravity curves the spacetime around an object. Sure.

Do birds have tongues? You bet they do. Cameron surveys a few shocking varieties.

 

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image: shutterstock

 

 

Charles Hard Townes Made Things Happen

298358437_bf04e7f85f_oCharles Hard Townes died a week ago, aged 99.  He was a physicist at Berkeley who came up with the principle of the laser; at age 98, he’d stopped coming into the office every day. His obituaries are thorough and their praise is justified.  I’d met him for reasons the obituaries don’t mention.  He helped set up the Jasons, a group of well-regarded physicists who give the government advice, such that the advice they gave would have no conceivable benefit to them.  And he helped get a classified technology declassified so the astronomers could use it to change astronomy.  Both these things were important, with wide and deep effects, and Townes gets little notice for what he did; nor did he ask for it.  He seemed just as happy to make things happen. Continue reading

Ye Olde Scientific Writing

Quill penA few weeks ago, biologist Stephen Heard blogged about beauty in scientific writing. Among his examples, he cited an elegant explanation of quantum mechanics research and a playful description of a snake surveying a “disconsolate line” of frogs. More details can be found in Heard’s paper on the subject, which calls for scientists to strive not only for beauty, but whimsy and humour.

I’ve often found that the most enjoyable scientific papers are those written more than a century ago. Sometimes I come across them while researching an article that demands historical backstory, and sometimes I just go down a rabbit hole and find myself downloading half a dozen smudged-looking PDFs on early dental prosthetics. Reading these fusty manuscripts nearly always yields some amusement, whether because the authors use a quaint word, a pleasing turn of phase, or writing conventions that strike me as funny today. Continue reading

Tongue in Beak

4658390366_11d14832d1_zThe other day while we were playing at a nearby park, a woman got out of her car and swooped over to where my sons and their friends were trying to flip over small boulders. She had these awesome knee high boots, and bright red lipstick. Seeing her reminded me what happens to everyman hero Emmet in The Lego Movie’s everyman when he first sees master-builder WyldStyle—the world goes fuzzy, and the screen is filled with her smile, her stiffly swooshing hair and an angel choir soundtrack.

Now, in the park, the woman pulled out a pair of binoculars and peered up at the sycamores. Continue reading

Picking Your Brains

head explode

Dear LWON readers, I’d like to ask you a question.

Twice recently I’ve written about properties of black holes that blow my mind. In each instance, my inspiration was a detail from a movie.

First was Interstellar. The great gravitational grip of the black hole in that movie, as is the case for all black holes, distorts space to such an extent that objects on the side opposite the observer become visible. What blew my mind, though, was what happens when you take that idea to its extreme: One of the sources of light looming into view would be the far side of the accretion disk—the blindingly bright ring of debris encircling the black hole—in its entirety.

Next I wrote about A Brief History of Time, a documentary about Stephen Hawking. During a discussion of what you would experience if you were to fall into a black hole, a physicist says that time would appear to pass normally to you, but that the passage of time in the rest of the universe would appear to be speeding up. What blew my mind, though, was what happens when that idea is taken to its extreme: As you reach the very lip of the black hole’s event horizon, time would be accelerating at such a rate that you would witness the future of the universe in its entirety.

In both cases, however, what didn’t blow my mind was the underlying assumption: Gravity distorts space and time.

That concept used to be the extreme—a side effect of general relativity that would blow anybody’s mind. Now I accepted that assumption almost without thinking. Which, when I thought about it, blew my mind.

Continue reading

The Last Word

Snow Shelter

January 26 – 30

In guest writer Lesley Evans Ogden’s essay meditation, an Ontario girl builds a bond with the West Coast rainforest through her trail running.

We have come to understand that Craig does nothing in half measures. When he wants to understand the Younger Dryas, naturally he drags a sled onto frozen Lake Superior and spends a night – true to Pleistocene conditions – without a tent.

Christie gives us her favorite words and reports on a few we’d all rather strike from the dictionary.

Our fates are more indebted to our names than we know. Specifically the letters of our first and last initials.

When Helen lived in Japan, she listened to a pop group called SMAP – presumably an onomatopoeic name, akin to Wham! – and Friday’s launch of the Soil Moisture Active Passive (SMAP) satellite brought it all back.

 

Image: Craig Child’s not-so-cozy accommodations on Lake Superior.

What Does Today’s Possible Rocket Launch Have to Do With Japanese Pop Music? (I’ll Tell You: Very Little)

Delta II Rocket with SMAPFriday morning, if all goes well, NASA is launching a satellite with the name SMAP. As I write late Thursday night, it’s perched atop a Delta II rocket an hour up the California coast from Santa Barbara. It was supposed to launch this morning, but high-altitude winds got in the way.

Like so many things in NASA world, SMAP is an acronym. It stands for Soil Moisture Active Passive. The satellite is monitoring soil moisture, and it’s using both active and passive methods to do so.

I don’t know any more about the science than a quick perusal of NASA’s website got me, but I do know this: SMAP is a really silly-sounding name.

This is not a new opinion. I would like you to know that this is an opinion I have had more than 15 years to develop. This is not the first thing named SMAP to enter my life. Continue reading