Dining: A Greener Shade of Crow

Constable's Wivenhoe Park, Essex, 1816. NGA.The opening scene paints a picture as bucolic as anything John Constable managed, albeit in broad, animated strokes. Green fields at morning, distant mountains, a small, loving farm family and the contented grunt of a well-cared-for pig set a tone of agrarian delight. But just 20 seconds into the short video and that porker is penned up. By the time Willie Nelson starts crooning a Coldplay tune at 0:33, we’re into the age of industrial agriculture, complete with a multi-tiered pork factory pumping out chemically enhanced cubes of pink piggie flesh.

Well before a determined little animated farmer starts kicking over the enclosures and letting the livestock roam free again, I knew that I’d use this tasty bit of sustainable agriculture eco-propaganda as a discussion piece in my environmental communication class at Stanford. The capsule history of agriculture’s struggle with sustainability was nicely handled, but what really grabbed me was the design. The round, eraser-pink pigs, rotund, PlaySkoolish people and model railway backdrops evoke not just a comforting, idealized view of country living, but the innocence of childhood play, turned first foul, and then pure again. The history of agricultural development had become a morality play, all spooled out in a 2-minute stop action film.

Which NGO or advocacy group had come up with the cash and marketing savvy to produce such a sophisticated little emotion-booster, I wondered?

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Abstruse Goose: Partners

Theorists really do think this, that maybe every fundamental particle has a so-far-invisible partner.  The partners’ names are just the names of the regular particles only with an “s” in front: squarks, selectrons.  The Large Hadron Collider (LHC)  in Switzerland is kicking up a lot of dust looking for them (and for another putative particle called the Higgs); and every now and then, the LHC announces it may or may not have found something or other that undermines the foundations of the entire physics enterprise but only somewhere around a 2-sigma level which may or may not indicate these partners exist.  If they do, they’ll solve Richard’s dark matter problem.

Abstruse Goose’s little jokes:  particles are attractive to other particles with the opposite charge; all particles have an assigned mass; quarks (which make up the likes of protons and neutrons) come in six flavors — up, down, top, bottom, strangeness, and charm.  SUSY, the name of the theory proposing the partners, would unify the four forces of the universe; it’s pronounced soosie and stands for SUperSYmmetry.  SOL, I feel sure you already know.

Meanwhile, you’d do well to keep your eye on the LHC.

http://abstrusegoose.com/368

On Culture and Biological Clocks

In our centuries-old tradition of interviewing the Persons of LWON who are authors of newly-published books, here is our interview with Jessa about her new book, The Siesta and the Midnight Sun.

Q:  Your book is about, as you say, “the body clock as a biological universal, a foundation on which cultures lay their own rituals and rhythms.”  So every living thing has a clock and in each one of those living things, each organ also has a clock?  Does the body then have some sort of master clock?  I mean, otherwise how does anything get done?

A:  Circadian rhythms – or biological clocks that run on daily cycles – are a result of life having evolved on a rotating planet. The human body has lots of internal clocks, oscillations that take roughly 24 hours to complete their cycle, and they are all coordinated by the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN), a bundle of neurons in the brain’s hypothalamus. It conducts the body’s internal orchestra in a few different ways, including triggering melatonin release into the bloodstream to initiate sleep.

Q:  How many kinds of clocks are there? or rather, how many kinds of things set the clocks? 

A:  Sunlight is by far the most important calibration tool the body has for setting its clock. Particularly the blue region of the visible spectrum. You might be familiar with rods and cones — the photoreceptors in the eye – and it turns out there’s a third photoreceptor whose only job is to measure light levels and send that message to the master clock. We’re also capable of setting our rhythms based on social cues, activity rhythms  and so on, but those are very weak cues compared with light.

Q:  A third photoreceptor! That we don’t use to see!  We detect light but don’t see anything!  Whoa, calm down.   Continue reading

“Reading Minds” with fMRI

Some of you, I suspect, have read in Time, Slate, NPR, Popular ScienceWired, or dozens of other news outlets that scientists have figured out how to read minds. I hate to always be the neurotech downer, but that claim is just false. Laughably false.

That’s not to say that the study behind all of the commotion, published late last month in Current Biology, isn’t impressive and worth talking about. But, as happens all too often with brain imaging studies, this one was hyped, big time. Few reporters* bothered to look for critical, or even thoughtful, comments from experts outside the research team. And so their stories wound up with headlines like, “Scientists Can (Almost) Read Your Mind,” and “Soon Enough, You May Be Able to DVR Your Dreams.”
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Bed Bug Bugaboo


New Yorkers don’t scare easily. They are blasé about crime, absurdly aggressive behind the wheel, and generally indifferent to even the biggest rats. Even vampires don’t inspire fear. I once saw a pair on the N train in Queens, and no one (but me) batted an eyelash. Blood sucking insects, however, are an entirely different matter. Bed bugs will strike terror in the heart of even the most stalwart New Yorker.

New York City is on the front lines of the war against bed bugs. And its inhabitants are in the grip of full-on bed bug paranoia. Local lore has it that many New York movie theaters are infested. So one of my friends now refuses to see films within the city limits. When her husband returns from the cinema, she forces him to strip down at the door. His clothes go immediately into a plastic bag and then into the washer. Full cycle. Extra hot. Continue reading

The Children’s Hour

There is something rare and elusive on the ceiling of Rouffignac Cave in southern France, something that at first looked like etchings of undulating snakes or bending waterways or even strangely shimmying humans, but that now turn out to be something far more ephemeral and wondrous to my eyes—works of art by very young apprentices: giggling, squirming, skittering Ice-Age children.

Rouffignac’s dark fingering passageways extend more than five miles into the limestone bedrock of the Dordogne region. Thirteen thousand years ago, Paleolithic humans held torches aloft as they penetrated deep into the cave,  exploring its dark twisting passages and chambers. In the flickering light, these ancient cavers saw the raking claw marks of cave bears on the walls and stepped over scatterings of animal bones and gleaming flint nodules on the floor. Continue reading

From Freud to Feynman: Curious Thoughts of Curious Minds

I wonder why. I wonder why.

I wonder why I wonder.

I wonder why I wonder why

I wonder why I wonder!

 The poet: Richard P. Feynman. The occasion: an undergraduate philosophy term paper at MIT. A great work of poetry? Perhaps not. An example of profound thinking and the ability to render a complex process in a way that is engaging, easy to follow, and evoking of an I could do that, too feeling? Absolutely. And that, in a nutshell, is the great man’s genius.

Richard P. Feynman was the physicist who could, it seems, also be anything else he chose to be: a musician (who played the frigideira in a Brazilian samba group and even performed during Carnaval), a composer (who co-wrote and performed music to an award-winning modern ballet), an artist (who, as Ofey, had a one-man show), a specialist on Mayan hieroglyphics (who lectured on the codexes of the ancients and could spot a fake before the experts themselves)—and most of all, always, a profound thinker, who wondered not only about the world around him but about the him the world was around. Who not only wondered why, but then immediately, why he wondered why, and then, why he wondered that. How did his mind work? How did it get to wherever it traveled, and could he find a way to trace it? Continue reading

Dr. Jim Beam, DDS

 

One of the advantages of working at home is that I have more opportunities to talk to my neighbors, who often stop by with interesting news. The other day, a bear got into someone’s chicken coop; not long before that, a stray bull was wandering around in the adjoining field. But the most intriguing recent tidbit came from a neighbor who told me that he gargles with bourbon instead of mouthwash.

“You what?” I said.

“Well,” he said, “I was looking at the mouthwash in the store a while ago, and I thought, ‘Hey, this stuff is basically expensive alcohol with a bunch of weird additives. Why not just buy a bottle of whiskey and be done with it?’”

Now here was an appealing proposition. First of all, how often does one get to combine the pleasures of hard liquor with virtuous feelings about personal hygiene? Secondly, as the overcommitted parent of a toddler, the prospect of drinking while accomplishing something else sounded like the highest form of efficiency.

I should say that my neighbor has a Ph.D. in biology and is, as far as I can tell, eminently sane. He’s also a teetotaler, so he spits out the bourbon. (Seeing my disappointment, he added, “But I don’t see why you’d have to.”) And he doesn’t rinse in the morning, especially if he has to talk to other people. (“Wouldn’t make a good impression.”) He figures his nightly swishes beat mouthwash on several counts: cheaper, no weird additives, and as good or better at killing bacteria.

Sounds too good to be true. Is it? In our efforts to serve you better, the Last Word On Nothing Consumer Affairs Division decided to investigate.

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