Morphine Apparently in Your Head
"'Without doubt, human cells can produce the alkaloid morphine,' Zenk wrote in the paper. 'The studies presented here serve as a platform for the exploration of the function of 'endogenous morphine' in the neurosciences and immunosciences.'"
I have a lurking suspicion that the brain, properly triggered, can produce just about any psychoactive substance or its functional equivalent.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Researchers Discover 'Hole' in Global Warming Predictions
"Using a detailed regional climate model, these researchers estimate summertime daily maximum temperatures will not climb as high in a Midwestern region -- centered on the Missouri/Kansas border -- as anywhere else in the United States. The hole stretches for hundreds of miles and includes Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska and Oklahoma."
Hey! Lucky me!
"Using a detailed regional climate model, these researchers estimate summertime daily maximum temperatures will not climb as high in a Midwestern region -- centered on the Missouri/Kansas border -- as anywhere else in the United States. The hole stretches for hundreds of miles and includes Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska and Oklahoma."
Hey! Lucky me!
John Shirley writes:
"When I was having thyroid problems, I began having visions of suicide and a feeling of 'do it, do it'. When I got thyroid medication, those suicidal images and urges went away. Certain people (often teens) taking certain antidepressants, paradoxically get suicidal urges. Men who are very territorial and possessive of their families often--when their chosen mate decides to leave them--fall victim to a 'I must kill my family and myself' syndrome. It seems triggered by a specific set of circumstances. This pattern of self destruction, prompted with such cerebral automaticity, suggests that suicide is designed into us by nature. There may be a 'suicide program' wired into the brain, which is triggered at times, sometimes accidentally. This to me also argues that nature is up to something--that it has intention. It is willing to make us kill ourselves if we don't get with the reproductive program. It is more winnowing."
I bang my head against this issue all the time; am I a merely a convenient receptacle for selfish DNA molecules or am I a sentient individual fortuitously perpetuated by the machinations of DNA? Both, quite possibly. If so, which is the more important aspect of my being? What's the raison d'etre of intelligent carbon-based life?
Maybe it's a yin-yang sort of thing. Life and death; the solace of the inanimate waging perpetual war against the sense of individuality and purpose (however ill-defined) taking place inside our skulls -- and, just possibly, elsewhere.
Like Shirley, I've wanted to cash it in. At times there's an almost palpable drop in what can only be called "life energy" -- a sort of subjective energy-level maintained by the subconscious. Think of it as one of those little glowing meters that accompany characters in video games. You take so many bullets, or lasers, or punches to the face, and the meter drops to zero and you "die."
To Freud, the psyche was ruled by the immutable laws of Sex. I suspect the mind cares less about actual sex than it does the perpetuation of DNA. Superficially, of course, they're one and the same, but the ensured output of viable genetic material is far more abstract and depersonalized. It's as if we share our bodies with mechanistic genies with their own purely selfish agendas -- and when our own agendas begin to conflict with the deoxyribonucleic overmind, our "life meters" start to plunge -- maybe just a little bit, enough to produce a bit of existential unease -- or maybe a considerable fraction all at once, like blowing a tire.
It's then that the genetic overmind plants its roots in the fertile soil that once housed your volition and identity. You become a husk, loping android-like from once task to another until effectively lobotomized. As G.I. Gurdjieff stressed, we are literal machines. And although he didn't specifically invoke biochemistry, he may as well have harped on Richard Dawkins' inspired notion of the "selfish gene," had the idea existed in his time.
The irony is that a being constructed (and in certain critical respects defined) by genes bent on self-preservation can be lured to (or actually programmed for) self-destruction. I wonder if other planetary ecologies have produced intelligent creatures to whom suicide is a physiological impossibility; such creatures may exist among us in coming decades, and we will know them as robots.
Maybe that's the answer. Perhaps we are larvae, subject to incurable neuroses that will cease to exist only when we ourselves cease to exist, supplanted by something new, and -- in strictly Darwinian terms, if nothing else -- fundamentally better. Maybe Shirley's "winnowing" -- seemingly psychotic from our narrow vantage on the evolutionary bridge -- is an essential instrument in the betterment of our species, or at least a lens through which to glimpse where we're headed.
"When I was having thyroid problems, I began having visions of suicide and a feeling of 'do it, do it'. When I got thyroid medication, those suicidal images and urges went away. Certain people (often teens) taking certain antidepressants, paradoxically get suicidal urges. Men who are very territorial and possessive of their families often--when their chosen mate decides to leave them--fall victim to a 'I must kill my family and myself' syndrome. It seems triggered by a specific set of circumstances. This pattern of self destruction, prompted with such cerebral automaticity, suggests that suicide is designed into us by nature. There may be a 'suicide program' wired into the brain, which is triggered at times, sometimes accidentally. This to me also argues that nature is up to something--that it has intention. It is willing to make us kill ourselves if we don't get with the reproductive program. It is more winnowing."
I bang my head against this issue all the time; am I a merely a convenient receptacle for selfish DNA molecules or am I a sentient individual fortuitously perpetuated by the machinations of DNA? Both, quite possibly. If so, which is the more important aspect of my being? What's the raison d'etre of intelligent carbon-based life?
Maybe it's a yin-yang sort of thing. Life and death; the solace of the inanimate waging perpetual war against the sense of individuality and purpose (however ill-defined) taking place inside our skulls -- and, just possibly, elsewhere.
Like Shirley, I've wanted to cash it in. At times there's an almost palpable drop in what can only be called "life energy" -- a sort of subjective energy-level maintained by the subconscious. Think of it as one of those little glowing meters that accompany characters in video games. You take so many bullets, or lasers, or punches to the face, and the meter drops to zero and you "die."
To Freud, the psyche was ruled by the immutable laws of Sex. I suspect the mind cares less about actual sex than it does the perpetuation of DNA. Superficially, of course, they're one and the same, but the ensured output of viable genetic material is far more abstract and depersonalized. It's as if we share our bodies with mechanistic genies with their own purely selfish agendas -- and when our own agendas begin to conflict with the deoxyribonucleic overmind, our "life meters" start to plunge -- maybe just a little bit, enough to produce a bit of existential unease -- or maybe a considerable fraction all at once, like blowing a tire.
It's then that the genetic overmind plants its roots in the fertile soil that once housed your volition and identity. You become a husk, loping android-like from once task to another until effectively lobotomized. As G.I. Gurdjieff stressed, we are literal machines. And although he didn't specifically invoke biochemistry, he may as well have harped on Richard Dawkins' inspired notion of the "selfish gene," had the idea existed in his time.
The irony is that a being constructed (and in certain critical respects defined) by genes bent on self-preservation can be lured to (or actually programmed for) self-destruction. I wonder if other planetary ecologies have produced intelligent creatures to whom suicide is a physiological impossibility; such creatures may exist among us in coming decades, and we will know them as robots.
Maybe that's the answer. Perhaps we are larvae, subject to incurable neuroses that will cease to exist only when we ourselves cease to exist, supplanted by something new, and -- in strictly Darwinian terms, if nothing else -- fundamentally better. Maybe Shirley's "winnowing" -- seemingly psychotic from our narrow vantage on the evolutionary bridge -- is an essential instrument in the betterment of our species, or at least a lens through which to glimpse where we're headed.
Cool site of the day: The Open SETI Initiative
"But SETI is nothing more than a badly-contrived myth. It seeks legitimacy through claiming membership in the larger scientific community, which itself is a collection of old myths that have outlived their usefulness."
"But SETI is nothing more than a badly-contrived myth. It seeks legitimacy through claiming membership in the larger scientific community, which itself is a collection of old myths that have outlived their usefulness."
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
One of my biggest flaws is my desire to be approachable and accommodating to strangers. The trouble, simply, is that I'm not discerning enough, and the Crashing Bores of the world universally see this as a select opportunity to take advantage. I'm burdened by this naively Mr. Roger-ish view that because I perceive myself as fundamentally decent, everyone else must be, too. I want to be liked. And I pay dearly for it.
This was pounded home a couple months back when I was signing books at Borders. It was a weeknight and the turnout was far from outrageous, but I found myself signing more copies than I'd expected and basically enjoying myself. Enter two Crashing Bores: a young married couple with this inexplicable -- and in hindsight, totally spurious -- interest in Martian archaeology. They nodded over my book, commending my intelligence. That should have been the tip-off; strangers don't go around attempting to boost someone's ego unless there's something in it for them. In this case, all I could offer was a signed copy of a book they'd never heard of which, to my surprise, they actually purchased.
But not before dropping veiled references to a lucrative "work from home" scheme they thought would be up my alley.
"What's involved?" I asked, politely skeptical.
"It's basically e-commerce," the male Bore replied.
"What's your email address?"
The Bore conceded that he didn't have one. Strange for someone supposedly making big money in e-commerce, I thought, but since he and his wife were talking Mars and making to buy my book, I let it pass and let the husband hand me a very unimpressive business card with the original address in Lawrence, Kansas scribbled out and the new one scrawled in its place. Finally they departed and I resumed my evening.
A few days later I get a message on my answering machine. It's the male Bore wanting to discuss his business and requesting a call back. I groaned and promptly deleted it.
Then one morning the phone splinters my sleep. I answered groggily, defenses in limbic shambles. It's the Crashing Bore again, wanting to meet me at the Borders where he bought my book.
"Can you explain what, exactly, this is . . . ?"
The Bore informed me that it was "mostly visual" in nature and that it "wouldn't make sense" over the phone. Half-asleep, I didn't summon the will-power to question this absurdity. Instead, I agreed to meet him and his wife to hear out whatever they had in mind -- furious at myself but placated by the thought of strolling the aisles at Borders after they'd finished their spiel.
I met them as planned. The spiel was indeed "mostly visual," consisting of the male Bore drawing crudely annotated diagrams in a spiral notebook. I smiled over my coffee and said "no." He persisted. So did his disturbingly Stepford-like wife, who I abruptly felt like kicking forcibly in the shins. Again, I politely declined to no avail.
The husband, with a tepid show of good cheer, handed me a CD and color leaflet. I looked at it briefly: lots of condescending stock imagery of guys 'n' gals conducting "business" in the privacy of nicely furnished living rooms. Lying, I said that I would be happy to peruse it and contact him if interested. No good; the leaflet and CD, it seemed, were quite valuable materials that needed to be returned as soon as possible -- preferably that very Saturday when a local work-from-home/e-commerce convention was to take place. Bing!
Then the guy tries to leave in a hurry, letting me know that he wants his materials returned and that he'll see me Saturday. I finally had to virtually shove the fucking brochure into his hands: "Take it now, please; this isn't for me and I'm not going to able to return it."
The two of them stalked off, visibly discomfited, and I watched them conversing from the cafe as they walked rapidly to their car.
Then I looked at books.
This was pounded home a couple months back when I was signing books at Borders. It was a weeknight and the turnout was far from outrageous, but I found myself signing more copies than I'd expected and basically enjoying myself. Enter two Crashing Bores: a young married couple with this inexplicable -- and in hindsight, totally spurious -- interest in Martian archaeology. They nodded over my book, commending my intelligence. That should have been the tip-off; strangers don't go around attempting to boost someone's ego unless there's something in it for them. In this case, all I could offer was a signed copy of a book they'd never heard of which, to my surprise, they actually purchased.
But not before dropping veiled references to a lucrative "work from home" scheme they thought would be up my alley.
"What's involved?" I asked, politely skeptical.
"It's basically e-commerce," the male Bore replied.
"What's your email address?"
The Bore conceded that he didn't have one. Strange for someone supposedly making big money in e-commerce, I thought, but since he and his wife were talking Mars and making to buy my book, I let it pass and let the husband hand me a very unimpressive business card with the original address in Lawrence, Kansas scribbled out and the new one scrawled in its place. Finally they departed and I resumed my evening.
A few days later I get a message on my answering machine. It's the male Bore wanting to discuss his business and requesting a call back. I groaned and promptly deleted it.
Then one morning the phone splinters my sleep. I answered groggily, defenses in limbic shambles. It's the Crashing Bore again, wanting to meet me at the Borders where he bought my book.
"Can you explain what, exactly, this is . . . ?"
The Bore informed me that it was "mostly visual" in nature and that it "wouldn't make sense" over the phone. Half-asleep, I didn't summon the will-power to question this absurdity. Instead, I agreed to meet him and his wife to hear out whatever they had in mind -- furious at myself but placated by the thought of strolling the aisles at Borders after they'd finished their spiel.
I met them as planned. The spiel was indeed "mostly visual," consisting of the male Bore drawing crudely annotated diagrams in a spiral notebook. I smiled over my coffee and said "no." He persisted. So did his disturbingly Stepford-like wife, who I abruptly felt like kicking forcibly in the shins. Again, I politely declined to no avail.
The husband, with a tepid show of good cheer, handed me a CD and color leaflet. I looked at it briefly: lots of condescending stock imagery of guys 'n' gals conducting "business" in the privacy of nicely furnished living rooms. Lying, I said that I would be happy to peruse it and contact him if interested. No good; the leaflet and CD, it seemed, were quite valuable materials that needed to be returned as soon as possible -- preferably that very Saturday when a local work-from-home/e-commerce convention was to take place. Bing!
Then the guy tries to leave in a hurry, letting me know that he wants his materials returned and that he'll see me Saturday. I finally had to virtually shove the fucking brochure into his hands: "Take it now, please; this isn't for me and I'm not going to able to return it."
The two of them stalked off, visibly discomfited, and I watched them conversing from the cafe as they walked rapidly to their car.
Then I looked at books.
THE SKY IS ALWAYS FALLING
"The human brain appears to have a receptor for such stories, as for opiates, because the neo-doomsday crowd never lacks an audience. Just now, a lot of people again imagine the world ending very soon." (Via The Anomalist.)
This is tricky territory. Because yes, there's a ton of bullshit "end of the world" memes swarming all over. But the risk exists that while discerning neo-eschatologists chortle knowingly, we might miss an authentic threat. Worlds do end, after all; take a good look at Mars or Venus.
Also, who says the world has to end with a bang? Our planet is being recklessly poisoned, and the effects can seem innocuous enough until a critical threshold is reached. It's quite plausible that we'll go out with a whimper. No pyrotechnics necessary.
"The human brain appears to have a receptor for such stories, as for opiates, because the neo-doomsday crowd never lacks an audience. Just now, a lot of people again imagine the world ending very soon." (Via The Anomalist.)
This is tricky territory. Because yes, there's a ton of bullshit "end of the world" memes swarming all over. But the risk exists that while discerning neo-eschatologists chortle knowingly, we might miss an authentic threat. Worlds do end, after all; take a good look at Mars or Venus.
Also, who says the world has to end with a bang? Our planet is being recklessly poisoned, and the effects can seem innocuous enough until a critical threshold is reached. It's quite plausible that we'll go out with a whimper. No pyrotechnics necessary.
I realized that I just blogged about politics.
Well, not so much politics as much as image-manipulation and the questionable application of tax-dollars. But in any case, stuff that's suffocatingly boring and ultimately pointless.
I generally approach the political landscape in much the same way some people approach fantasy baseball or model railroading, only without the fervor. Political grumbling is at best a distraction, potentially more masturbatory than disk-golf or incessant cellphone use.
Frankly, if you're interested in the so-called election, you're better off reading the latest by Michael Moore or Rush Limbaugh; they're both eminently useful idiots, certain to distract. Most Posthuman Blues readers know this perfectly well. But maybe you're the new guy. And I'm here to help.
Well, not so much politics as much as image-manipulation and the questionable application of tax-dollars. But in any case, stuff that's suffocatingly boring and ultimately pointless.
I generally approach the political landscape in much the same way some people approach fantasy baseball or model railroading, only without the fervor. Political grumbling is at best a distraction, potentially more masturbatory than disk-golf or incessant cellphone use.
Frankly, if you're interested in the so-called election, you're better off reading the latest by Michael Moore or Rush Limbaugh; they're both eminently useful idiots, certain to distract. Most Posthuman Blues readers know this perfectly well. But maybe you're the new guy. And I'm here to help.
How my taxes are helping finance Bush's "re"-election campaign
A long time ago I impulsively ordered a free DVD called "Up From Zero" from a U.S. government website. "Up From Zero" is a drippingly patriotic documentary on the events of 9-11-01 and the subsequent courage and fortitude of the American people. We Will Never Forget. All that crap.
My apartment manager slipped the disc under my door a few hours ago after at least a year of -- what? Shipping? I'm convinced no one should expect prompt or efficient service from the government -- regardless of context -- but the grossly belated delivery of "Up From Zero" was anomalous even by bureaucratic standards.
Then I realized what was, in all probability, really going on: "Up From Zero" is Bush administration campaign propaganda masquerading as sappy patriotic docudrama.
The timing is perfect:
Thousands of Americans will watch "Up From Zero" right in time for the election.
They'll see a quaint, by-the-books retelling of 9-11, replete with lavishly edited footage of Bush doing his best to look solemn and paternal.
They'll remember those post-attack days of "coming together" under W's steely, competent watch.
More importantly, though, they'll vote for Bush.
If "Up From Zero" had arrived on time -- say, after two or three months -- the 2004 election would have seemed remote. Certainly no one would have been talking about John Kerry. People would have dutifully watched the DVD, perhaps thrown it out with that week's bushel of AOL CD-ROMs, and quietly forgotten about it.
But the suspiciously long delay between order and receipt seems conveniently timed to coincide with the upcoming electoral farce. The image of Bush that proliferated in the weeks and months after 9-11 is one of power and abiding leadership in the face of massive uncertainty. It was never more than a media artifact, of course, just as W's current TV ads are perilously subjective renderings of the (P)resident's psyche.
"Up From Zero" is a tax-funded attempt to exhume the W of old. A self-declared "War President," Bush stands to benefit substantially by the DVD's delayed release. It captures him at his teleprompted best, as a man of action not yet committed to a backfired war of "liberation." No flight suit footage here.
If you find yourself glazing over while watching "Up From Zero," don't be alarmed. That means it's working.
A long time ago I impulsively ordered a free DVD called "Up From Zero" from a U.S. government website. "Up From Zero" is a drippingly patriotic documentary on the events of 9-11-01 and the subsequent courage and fortitude of the American people. We Will Never Forget. All that crap.
My apartment manager slipped the disc under my door a few hours ago after at least a year of -- what? Shipping? I'm convinced no one should expect prompt or efficient service from the government -- regardless of context -- but the grossly belated delivery of "Up From Zero" was anomalous even by bureaucratic standards.
Then I realized what was, in all probability, really going on: "Up From Zero" is Bush administration campaign propaganda masquerading as sappy patriotic docudrama.
The timing is perfect:
Thousands of Americans will watch "Up From Zero" right in time for the election.
They'll see a quaint, by-the-books retelling of 9-11, replete with lavishly edited footage of Bush doing his best to look solemn and paternal.
They'll remember those post-attack days of "coming together" under W's steely, competent watch.
More importantly, though, they'll vote for Bush.
If "Up From Zero" had arrived on time -- say, after two or three months -- the 2004 election would have seemed remote. Certainly no one would have been talking about John Kerry. People would have dutifully watched the DVD, perhaps thrown it out with that week's bushel of AOL CD-ROMs, and quietly forgotten about it.
But the suspiciously long delay between order and receipt seems conveniently timed to coincide with the upcoming electoral farce. The image of Bush that proliferated in the weeks and months after 9-11 is one of power and abiding leadership in the face of massive uncertainty. It was never more than a media artifact, of course, just as W's current TV ads are perilously subjective renderings of the (P)resident's psyche.
"Up From Zero" is a tax-funded attempt to exhume the W of old. A self-declared "War President," Bush stands to benefit substantially by the DVD's delayed release. It captures him at his teleprompted best, as a man of action not yet committed to a backfired war of "liberation." No flight suit footage here.
If you find yourself glazing over while watching "Up From Zero," don't be alarmed. That means it's working.
Green, leafy spinach may soon power more than Popeye's biceps
"Baldo and other researchers from MIT, the University of Tennessee and the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory, including electrical and biomedical engineers, nanotechnology experts and biologists, collaborated on the world's first solid-state photosynthetic solar cell. The work was reported in NanoLetters, a publication of the American Chemical Society."
Yes, I know this one is making the rounds on the "weird news" circuit. But I couldn't resist.
"Baldo and other researchers from MIT, the University of Tennessee and the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory, including electrical and biomedical engineers, nanotechnology experts and biologists, collaborated on the world's first solid-state photosynthetic solar cell. The work was reported in NanoLetters, a publication of the American Chemical Society."
Yes, I know this one is making the rounds on the "weird news" circuit. But I couldn't resist.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Bruce Sterling cites Natasha Vita-More as the source for this delightful list of technological predictions:
"Computers in the future may weigh no more than 1.5 tons."
--Popular Mechanics, forecasting the relentless march of science, 1949
"I think there is a world market for maybe five computers."
--Chairman of IBM, 1943
"I have traveled the length and breadth of this country and talked with the best people, and I can assure you that data processing is a fad that won't last out the year."
--The editor in charge of business books for Prentice Hall, 1957
"But what ... is it good for?"
--Engineer at the Advanced Computing Systems Division of IBM, 1968, commenting on the microchip.
"There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home."
--President, Chairman and founder of Digital Equipment Corp., 1977
"This 'telephone' has too many shortcomings to be seriously considered as a means of communication. The device is inherently of no value to us."
--Western Union internal memo, 1876.
"The wireless music box has no imaginable commercial value. Who would pay for a message sent to nobody in particular?"
--David Sarnoff's associates in response to his urgings for investment in the radio in the 1920s.
"The concept is interesting and well-formed, but in order to earn better than a 'C,' the idea must be feasible."
--A Yale University management professor in response to Fred Smith's paper proposing reliable overnight delivery service. (Smith went on to found Federal Express Corp.)
"Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?"
--Warner Brothers, 1927.
"I'm just glad it'll be Clark Gable who's falling on his face and not Gary Cooper."
--Gary Cooper on his decision not to take the leading role in "Gone With The Wind."
"A cookie store is a bad idea. Besides, the market research reports say America likes crispy cookies, not soft and chewy cookies like you make."
--Response to Debbi Fields' idea of starting Mrs. Fields' Cookies.
"We don't like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out."
--Decca Recording Co. rejecting the Beatles, 1962.
"Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible."
--President, Royal Society, 1895.
"If I had thought about it, I wouldn't have done the experiment. The literature was full of examples that said you can't do this."
--Spencer Silver on the work that led to the unique adhesives for 3-M "Post-It" Notepads.
"So we went to Atari and said, 'Hey, we've got this amazing thing, even built with some of your parts, and what do you think about funding us? Or we' ll give it to you. We just want to do it. Pay our salary, we'll come work for you.' And they said, 'No.' So then we went to Hewlett-Packard, and they said, 'Hey, we don't need you. You haven't got through college yet.'"
--Apple Computer Inc. founder Steve Jobs on attempts to get Atari and H-P interested in his and Steve Wozniak's personal computer.
"Professor Goddard does not know the relation between action and reaction and the need to have something better than a vacuum against which to react. He seems to lack the basic knowledge ladled out daily in high schools."
--1921 New York Times editorial about Robert Goddard's revolutionary rocket work.
"You want to have consistent and uniform muscle development across all of your muscles? It can't be done. It's just a fact of life. You just have to accept inconsistent muscle development as an unalterable condition of weight training."
--Response to Arthur Jones, who solved the "unsolvable" problem by inventing Nautilus.
"Drill for oil? You mean drill into the ground to try and find oil? You're crazy."
--Drillers who Edwin L. Drake tried to enlist to his project to drill for oil in 1859.
"Stocks have reached what looks like a permanently high plateau."
--Professor of Economics, Yale University, 1929.
"Airplanes are interesting toys but of no military value."
--Professor of Strategy, Ecole Superieure de Guerre.
"Everything that can be invented has been invented."
--Commissioner, U.S. Office of Patents, 1899.
"Louis Pasteur's theory of germs is ridiculous fiction".
--Professor of Physiology at Toulouse, 1872
"The abdomen, the chest, and the brain will forever be shut from the intrusion of the wise and humane surgeon."
--British surgeon, appointed Surgeon-Extraordinary to Queen Victoria 1873.
"640K ought to be enough for anybody."
-- Bill Gates, 1981
"Computers in the future may weigh no more than 1.5 tons."
--Popular Mechanics, forecasting the relentless march of science, 1949
"I think there is a world market for maybe five computers."
--Chairman of IBM, 1943
"I have traveled the length and breadth of this country and talked with the best people, and I can assure you that data processing is a fad that won't last out the year."
--The editor in charge of business books for Prentice Hall, 1957
"But what ... is it good for?"
--Engineer at the Advanced Computing Systems Division of IBM, 1968, commenting on the microchip.
"There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home."
--President, Chairman and founder of Digital Equipment Corp., 1977
"This 'telephone' has too many shortcomings to be seriously considered as a means of communication. The device is inherently of no value to us."
--Western Union internal memo, 1876.
"The wireless music box has no imaginable commercial value. Who would pay for a message sent to nobody in particular?"
--David Sarnoff's associates in response to his urgings for investment in the radio in the 1920s.
"The concept is interesting and well-formed, but in order to earn better than a 'C,' the idea must be feasible."
--A Yale University management professor in response to Fred Smith's paper proposing reliable overnight delivery service. (Smith went on to found Federal Express Corp.)
"Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?"
--Warner Brothers, 1927.
"I'm just glad it'll be Clark Gable who's falling on his face and not Gary Cooper."
--Gary Cooper on his decision not to take the leading role in "Gone With The Wind."
"A cookie store is a bad idea. Besides, the market research reports say America likes crispy cookies, not soft and chewy cookies like you make."
--Response to Debbi Fields' idea of starting Mrs. Fields' Cookies.
"We don't like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out."
--Decca Recording Co. rejecting the Beatles, 1962.
"Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible."
--President, Royal Society, 1895.
"If I had thought about it, I wouldn't have done the experiment. The literature was full of examples that said you can't do this."
--Spencer Silver on the work that led to the unique adhesives for 3-M "Post-It" Notepads.
"So we went to Atari and said, 'Hey, we've got this amazing thing, even built with some of your parts, and what do you think about funding us? Or we' ll give it to you. We just want to do it. Pay our salary, we'll come work for you.' And they said, 'No.' So then we went to Hewlett-Packard, and they said, 'Hey, we don't need you. You haven't got through college yet.'"
--Apple Computer Inc. founder Steve Jobs on attempts to get Atari and H-P interested in his and Steve Wozniak's personal computer.
"Professor Goddard does not know the relation between action and reaction and the need to have something better than a vacuum against which to react. He seems to lack the basic knowledge ladled out daily in high schools."
--1921 New York Times editorial about Robert Goddard's revolutionary rocket work.
"You want to have consistent and uniform muscle development across all of your muscles? It can't be done. It's just a fact of life. You just have to accept inconsistent muscle development as an unalterable condition of weight training."
--Response to Arthur Jones, who solved the "unsolvable" problem by inventing Nautilus.
"Drill for oil? You mean drill into the ground to try and find oil? You're crazy."
--Drillers who Edwin L. Drake tried to enlist to his project to drill for oil in 1859.
"Stocks have reached what looks like a permanently high plateau."
--Professor of Economics, Yale University, 1929.
"Airplanes are interesting toys but of no military value."
--Professor of Strategy, Ecole Superieure de Guerre.
"Everything that can be invented has been invented."
--Commissioner, U.S. Office of Patents, 1899.
"Louis Pasteur's theory of germs is ridiculous fiction".
--Professor of Physiology at Toulouse, 1872
"The abdomen, the chest, and the brain will forever be shut from the intrusion of the wise and humane surgeon."
--British surgeon, appointed Surgeon-Extraordinary to Queen Victoria 1873.
"640K ought to be enough for anybody."
-- Bill Gates, 1981
NASA Awards Jupiter Icy Moons Mission
"NASA has chosen Northrop Grumman Space Technology to build its upcoming Prometheus Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter (JIMO) spacecraft, and awarded them a $400 million contract to cover costs up to 2008. JIMO will use a nuclear-powered ion engine to go into orbit around each of Jupiter's icy moons: Callisto, Ganymede, and Europa. Once in orbit, the spacecraft would be able to examine each of the moons in great detail with a suite of instruments to try and understand their composition, history, and if there could be conditions for life."
Unfortunately, however, NASA's not accepting any human passengers.
"NASA has chosen Northrop Grumman Space Technology to build its upcoming Prometheus Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter (JIMO) spacecraft, and awarded them a $400 million contract to cover costs up to 2008. JIMO will use a nuclear-powered ion engine to go into orbit around each of Jupiter's icy moons: Callisto, Ganymede, and Europa. Once in orbit, the spacecraft would be able to examine each of the moons in great detail with a suite of instruments to try and understand their composition, history, and if there could be conditions for life."
Unfortunately, however, NASA's not accepting any human passengers.
I just watched "Crop Circles: Quest for Truth," an excellent documentary on the "crop glyph" controversy by Oscar-nominated director William Gazecki. I hardly ever see a documentary on paranormal/esoteric phenomena that's worth a damn; "Quest for Truth" is an exception, providing voices and perspectives from a broad cast of human participants. This is must-watching. And I haven't even begun perusing the special features . . .
Here's the film's official website. Take a look.
Monday, September 20, 2004
I've been invited to join the Society for Planetary SETI Research, a group I've admired for a long time. SPSR's involvement was central in getting NASA/JPL to acquire images of the Cydonia region (site of the Face on Mars) with the Mars Global Surveyor orbiter, and they've done an admirable job of applying scientific method to what seems, at first, the stuff of New Age wet dreams.
For books on the Cydonia controversy, click here.
Pylons suspected in deaths of unborn babies
"There are electric pylons along Ereka Road and some of the blocks of flats are directly under these pylons. Gumede believes that there is a connection between the miscarriages and the electric pylons." (Via The Anomalist.)
"There are electric pylons along Ereka Road and some of the blocks of flats are directly under these pylons. Gumede believes that there is a connection between the miscarriages and the electric pylons." (Via The Anomalist.)
Take the quiz:
"What Kind of Soul Do You Retain?"
Free
"You have an open heart and open mind and you chose not to let anyone get to you and the way you want to live."
I can't believe how optimistic my diagnosis is. I was expecting something much, much worse. That little elf chick doesn't exactly scream "macbot." (Via CP.)
Free
"You have an open heart and open mind and you chose not to let anyone get to you and the way you want to live."
I can't believe how optimistic my diagnosis is. I was expecting something much, much worse. That little elf chick doesn't exactly scream "macbot." (Via CP.)
Sunday, September 19, 2004
A Traveling-wave Engine To Power Deep Space Travel
"A University of California scientist working at Los Alamos National Laboratory and researchers from Northrop Grumman Space Technology have developed a novel method for generating electrical power for deep-space travel using sound waves. The traveling-wave thermoacoustic electric generator has the potential to power space probes to the furthest reaches of the Universe."
"A University of California scientist working at Los Alamos National Laboratory and researchers from Northrop Grumman Space Technology have developed a novel method for generating electrical power for deep-space travel using sound waves. The traveling-wave thermoacoustic electric generator has the potential to power space probes to the furthest reaches of the Universe."
It looks like my speaking engagement in scenic Sedona, AZ will be on the third Friday of January, 2005. Can't wait. I think the name "Sedona" is interesting because, phonetically, it's similar to "Cydonia" -- the region on Mars that I'll be discussing. It also resembles "Sedna," the trans-Neptunian object recently discovered orbiting the Sun past Pluto.
I just returned from the bookstore, where I bought two trade paperbacks I've had my eyes on: "Altered Carbon" and the hugely acclaimed "Light" by M. John Harrison.
Considering the nonfiction "prize package" I received from appearing on Dr. Bob Hieronimus' show, I think I'd be quite happy locked in a vault right now provided I had sufficient illumination and an espresso machine.
I just returned from the bookstore, where I bought two trade paperbacks I've had my eyes on: "Altered Carbon" and the hugely acclaimed "Light" by M. John Harrison.
Considering the nonfiction "prize package" I received from appearing on Dr. Bob Hieronimus' show, I think I'd be quite happy locked in a vault right now provided I had sufficient illumination and an espresso machine.
For a blog that frequently dwells in "the unknown," Posthuman Blues has been conspicuously silent on the Afterlife Question. I'll try to remedy that.
Simply, I don't know. I don't pretend to know. I haven't a fucking clue. My hunch is that "afterlife" is a bloated oxymoron and that once the meat-machines we call our brains cease working, so do we. It's tough to conceive what it might be like to not exist, but should it be? After all, how many of us remember anything prior to our own birth?
Part of me likes the idea that I somehow persist after biological death; it might even be possible, albeit in ways currently antithetical to materialistic science. Empirical science (as currently practiced) may be missing something crucial; if consciousness exists after the demise of its neurological substrate, then it's likely our current definition of consciousness is simply wrong-headed. Maybe brains are more akin to receivers than computers and we're all tuned to the same channel, or at least the same spectrum.
Another part of me finds the prospect of an "afterlife" thoroughly unnecessary. Simply ceasing to exist -- in whatever form -- seems so much more economical than lingering in some nonbiological state. Or maybe, upon death, you're presented with the option to "terminate program."
Eternal life or blissful oblivion -- what would you do?*
*I should point out that none of this logically entails the existence of "God"; if there's a "next world," then I assume it's every bit a part of our Cosmos as black holes and quasars. In this context, the "soul" should be viewed as a phenomenon intrinsic to sentient organisms, perhaps amenable to technological intervention.
Simply, I don't know. I don't pretend to know. I haven't a fucking clue. My hunch is that "afterlife" is a bloated oxymoron and that once the meat-machines we call our brains cease working, so do we. It's tough to conceive what it might be like to not exist, but should it be? After all, how many of us remember anything prior to our own birth?
Part of me likes the idea that I somehow persist after biological death; it might even be possible, albeit in ways currently antithetical to materialistic science. Empirical science (as currently practiced) may be missing something crucial; if consciousness exists after the demise of its neurological substrate, then it's likely our current definition of consciousness is simply wrong-headed. Maybe brains are more akin to receivers than computers and we're all tuned to the same channel, or at least the same spectrum.
Another part of me finds the prospect of an "afterlife" thoroughly unnecessary. Simply ceasing to exist -- in whatever form -- seems so much more economical than lingering in some nonbiological state. Or maybe, upon death, you're presented with the option to "terminate program."
Eternal life or blissful oblivion -- what would you do?*
*I should point out that none of this logically entails the existence of "God"; if there's a "next world," then I assume it's every bit a part of our Cosmos as black holes and quasars. In this context, the "soul" should be viewed as a phenomenon intrinsic to sentient organisms, perhaps amenable to technological intervention.
Named and identified victims of the war on Iraq
"This table lists the names of 3,029 civilians killed as a result of the US-led military intervention in Iraq up to September 12th 2004. This collection was compiled by members of the Iraq Body Count project (IBC), using a wide range of sources, primarily press and media reports."
I thought I had the wrong URL at first; then I realized that the list was simply taking a long time to download. Oh, my.
I've adopted a somewhat Carlin-esque view of our species: I think we're circling the drain of extinction, and one of the only releases left to us is the ability to laugh at our collective psychopathologies. But the wholesale slaughter in Iraq is hard to press into the usual list of humanity's deadly failures. The deaths in Iraq aren't due to some lofty collective psychosis -- they're the direct result of a morbidly solipsistic political regime that somehow managed to take root in a country we once hoped -- intuited, even -- was somehow above such things.
As such, I can't accept the civilian casualties in Iraq (or the wanton poisoning of the region with depleted uranium) with anything approaching black humor. This stuff makes me sick to the bone; it makes me feel comically futile and ineffectual.
I'd sincerely love to throw my head back and laugh and attribute the nightmare this planet is becoming to some ineradicable Jungian death-wish. But I can't, because the people responsible have names.
This is how it ends.
"This table lists the names of 3,029 civilians killed as a result of the US-led military intervention in Iraq up to September 12th 2004. This collection was compiled by members of the Iraq Body Count project (IBC), using a wide range of sources, primarily press and media reports."
I thought I had the wrong URL at first; then I realized that the list was simply taking a long time to download. Oh, my.
I've adopted a somewhat Carlin-esque view of our species: I think we're circling the drain of extinction, and one of the only releases left to us is the ability to laugh at our collective psychopathologies. But the wholesale slaughter in Iraq is hard to press into the usual list of humanity's deadly failures. The deaths in Iraq aren't due to some lofty collective psychosis -- they're the direct result of a morbidly solipsistic political regime that somehow managed to take root in a country we once hoped -- intuited, even -- was somehow above such things.
As such, I can't accept the civilian casualties in Iraq (or the wanton poisoning of the region with depleted uranium) with anything approaching black humor. This stuff makes me sick to the bone; it makes me feel comically futile and ineffectual.
I'd sincerely love to throw my head back and laugh and attribute the nightmare this planet is becoming to some ineradicable Jungian death-wish. But I can't, because the people responsible have names.
This is how it ends.
Product of the day: Rap Snacks (Thanks to Jason.) Although I must profess disappointment; I didn't see any chips commemorating the Notorious B.I.G. or Snoop Dogg.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
I'd like to buy a vowel
This evening I walked down to LatteLand and was greeted by a swarm of milling pedestrians and a black stretch limo. I didn't think much of it at first. I bought a latte and sat down to read. Then I tuned into the ambient conversation and discovered the limo belonged to none other than "Wheel of Fortune" sidekick Vanna White, who was shooting a promo for the show outside Steve's Shoes nextdoor.
I was disappointed; I irrationally hoped it might be Natalie Portman. Even so, I found myself joining the crowd outside, where technicians with high-definition cameras and eye-scalding lights were preparing for the shoot. Vanna was sauntering around blankly, like a DisneyWorld animatron with a head-wound. She looked like, well, Vanna White -- older and shorter than I had expected, but still very pretty. I shuddered with concealed laughter as security personnel attempted to corral the small mob of rubberneckers. (The black guy who asked me to step back a few feet had a name-badge reading "White." "Any relation . . . ?" I asked.)
Vanna's script, if one could call it that, involved strolling past LatteLand clutching perfectly empty shopping bags from various stores on the Country Club Plaza. I experienced a fierce urge to run down 47th Street to Barnes & Noble and slip her a copy of "After the Martian Apocalypse."
The first shoot done, a crew member from "Wheel" informed my section of the crowd we would be videotaped. It was then that I realized I was about to appear in a "Wheel of Fortune" commercial. Everything became quite surreal; Vanna passed right in front of me next to the locally famous "boar sculpture," a forbiddingly life-like bronze uber-pig whose lustrous nose is due to untold thousands of hands rubbing it for good luck.
She uttered something about "from Kansas City" and timidly rubbed the boar's nose, bidding "Wheel" contestants good luck. Clever. Then, on the director's cue, everyone yelled "WHEEL . . . OF . . . FORTUNE!" Including me. I was right there, immediately behind Vanna yelling and applauding like a mind-control casualty.
The moral? Set your VCRs, because I honestly don't see how I can fail to be in this commercial. I'm wearing a long-sleeve pale-green checkered shirt.
This evening I walked down to LatteLand and was greeted by a swarm of milling pedestrians and a black stretch limo. I didn't think much of it at first. I bought a latte and sat down to read. Then I tuned into the ambient conversation and discovered the limo belonged to none other than "Wheel of Fortune" sidekick Vanna White, who was shooting a promo for the show outside Steve's Shoes nextdoor.
I was disappointed; I irrationally hoped it might be Natalie Portman. Even so, I found myself joining the crowd outside, where technicians with high-definition cameras and eye-scalding lights were preparing for the shoot. Vanna was sauntering around blankly, like a DisneyWorld animatron with a head-wound. She looked like, well, Vanna White -- older and shorter than I had expected, but still very pretty. I shuddered with concealed laughter as security personnel attempted to corral the small mob of rubberneckers. (The black guy who asked me to step back a few feet had a name-badge reading "White." "Any relation . . . ?" I asked.)
Vanna's script, if one could call it that, involved strolling past LatteLand clutching perfectly empty shopping bags from various stores on the Country Club Plaza. I experienced a fierce urge to run down 47th Street to Barnes & Noble and slip her a copy of "After the Martian Apocalypse."
The first shoot done, a crew member from "Wheel" informed my section of the crowd we would be videotaped. It was then that I realized I was about to appear in a "Wheel of Fortune" commercial. Everything became quite surreal; Vanna passed right in front of me next to the locally famous "boar sculpture," a forbiddingly life-like bronze uber-pig whose lustrous nose is due to untold thousands of hands rubbing it for good luck.
She uttered something about "from Kansas City" and timidly rubbed the boar's nose, bidding "Wheel" contestants good luck. Clever. Then, on the director's cue, everyone yelled "WHEEL . . . OF . . . FORTUNE!" Including me. I was right there, immediately behind Vanna yelling and applauding like a mind-control casualty.
The moral? Set your VCRs, because I honestly don't see how I can fail to be in this commercial. I'm wearing a long-sleeve pale-green checkered shirt.
"Intruder Signal" on 40 Meters Remains a Mystery for Now
"An unidentified signal that's been showing up on the 40-meter phone band on or about 7238 kHz has mystified amateurs in the western US and Canada, where it's been heard frequently for the past few weeks."
The signal's coming from near Sedona, AZ, where -- the last I checked -- I'm heading in January to speak to a UFO group. Given the myriad accounts of giant underground military bases in the region, you have to wonder if this represents EM leakage of some sort.
"An unidentified signal that's been showing up on the 40-meter phone band on or about 7238 kHz has mystified amateurs in the western US and Canada, where it's been heard frequently for the past few weeks."
The signal's coming from near Sedona, AZ, where -- the last I checked -- I'm heading in January to speak to a UFO group. Given the myriad accounts of giant underground military bases in the region, you have to wonder if this represents EM leakage of some sort.
I started Joseph Christy-Vitale's "Watermark," a well-written book that suggests that a chunk of lethal star-stuff from a distant supernova entered the solar system 12,000 years ago, wreaking gravitational havoc and wiping out a global civilization in the process. Incidentally, this is the basic premise of Herbie Brennan's "The Atlantis Enigma," also enjoyable.
"Watermark" is a Paraview Pocket Book, edited by Patrick Huyghe (who tackled the original manuscript of "After the Martian Apocalypse"), so some of my appreciation for Christy-Vitale's book is its publishing history. I feel we're both members of some unofficial club for writers with an affinity for planet-wide holocaust.
I've fielded a few queries (both online and in "meatspace") about how "After the Martian Apocalypse" came to be. The answer, perhaps disappointingly, is "organically." Thanks to the Internet, I was able to circumvent some of the usual publishing conduct so painfully described in how-to-write articles. I didn't hire an agent; my Mars website, the Cydonian Imperative, ultimately functioned as an online book proposal. So I was spared the typical experience of post-mailing sample chapters to prospective publishers and in general driving myself crazy.
Most of the "get published now" literature seems to ignore the stark reality of the Web and its vast networking potential. Of course, this doesn't mean I won't have to wrestle with old-fashioned networking in the future. The genre fiction market is glutted with would-be authors; I'd be very surprised if a single nonfiction book does much to impress the editors at, say, Tor or Ace (two consistently good science fiction publishing imprints).
Summing up, I don't particularly know a whole lot about the publishing world and its economic nuances. Frankly, I find it all quite headache-inducing. So I'm clinging -- probably naively -- to the notion that if I'm a good enough writer, unafraid to share my output with knowledgeable strangers, there's a plausible chance my efforts will meet with some success. But of course my own experience is couched in the nonfiction industry, and it's easier to break into nonfiction than fiction.
Right now, I've got three book proposals I want to pitch -- one for a novel, one for a short-story collection, and another for a speculative science/paranormal book along the lines of what I've already done (minus the Martian trappings). If I happen to learn anything along the way, I'll let you know.
"Watermark" is a Paraview Pocket Book, edited by Patrick Huyghe (who tackled the original manuscript of "After the Martian Apocalypse"), so some of my appreciation for Christy-Vitale's book is its publishing history. I feel we're both members of some unofficial club for writers with an affinity for planet-wide holocaust.
I've fielded a few queries (both online and in "meatspace") about how "After the Martian Apocalypse" came to be. The answer, perhaps disappointingly, is "organically." Thanks to the Internet, I was able to circumvent some of the usual publishing conduct so painfully described in how-to-write articles. I didn't hire an agent; my Mars website, the Cydonian Imperative, ultimately functioned as an online book proposal. So I was spared the typical experience of post-mailing sample chapters to prospective publishers and in general driving myself crazy.
Most of the "get published now" literature seems to ignore the stark reality of the Web and its vast networking potential. Of course, this doesn't mean I won't have to wrestle with old-fashioned networking in the future. The genre fiction market is glutted with would-be authors; I'd be very surprised if a single nonfiction book does much to impress the editors at, say, Tor or Ace (two consistently good science fiction publishing imprints).
Summing up, I don't particularly know a whole lot about the publishing world and its economic nuances. Frankly, I find it all quite headache-inducing. So I'm clinging -- probably naively -- to the notion that if I'm a good enough writer, unafraid to share my output with knowledgeable strangers, there's a plausible chance my efforts will meet with some success. But of course my own experience is couched in the nonfiction industry, and it's easier to break into nonfiction than fiction.
Right now, I've got three book proposals I want to pitch -- one for a novel, one for a short-story collection, and another for a speculative science/paranormal book along the lines of what I've already done (minus the Martian trappings). If I happen to learn anything along the way, I'll let you know.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Teacher Arrested After Bookmark Called Concealed Weapon
"Kathryn Harrington was flying home from vacation last month when screeners at the Tampa, Fla., airport found her bookmark. It's an 8.5-inch leather strip with small lead weights at each end."
Something tells me the boneheads who arrested Harrington don't spend a lot of time at Barnes & Noble. Although if someone were to just describe the bookmark to me without telling me what it actually was, I'd probably guess bondage paraphernalia.
"Kathryn Harrington was flying home from vacation last month when screeners at the Tampa, Fla., airport found her bookmark. It's an 8.5-inch leather strip with small lead weights at each end."
Something tells me the boneheads who arrested Harrington don't spend a lot of time at Barnes & Noble. Although if someone were to just describe the bookmark to me without telling me what it actually was, I'd probably guess bondage paraphernalia.
Global warming to devastate Europe first
"Picture postcard European snowscapes are destined to become consigned to history books before the end of the century, and 75 per cent of Alpine glaciers will have melted by 2050 – melting reduced the glaciers by one-tenth in 2003 alone, the study found."
But wait; it gets better:
Giant fans, nukes among amateur 'cane cures
"By far the most outlandish proposal, and one of the most recurrent, was the idea to use a nuclear warhead to blow a hurricane out of the water."
"Picture postcard European snowscapes are destined to become consigned to history books before the end of the century, and 75 per cent of Alpine glaciers will have melted by 2050 – melting reduced the glaciers by one-tenth in 2003 alone, the study found."
But wait; it gets better:
Giant fans, nukes among amateur 'cane cures
"By far the most outlandish proposal, and one of the most recurrent, was the idea to use a nuclear warhead to blow a hurricane out of the water."
Thursday, September 16, 2004
I'm fairly psyched up about seeing the retro-futuristic "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow." Which is distinctly weird, because I generally don't give a damn about movies. There are exceptions, of course ("Donnie Darko"), but not too many. I was marveling recently at how many movies I've seen lately: "I, Robot" (mildly entertaining), "The Village" (flawed but beautifully filmed and authentically creepy), "Alien Vs. Predator" (!), "Darko" . . . I usually see four big-screen releases a year -- or less. I don't know what's gotten into me. Hopefully it's not terminal.
I finally finished Robert A. Metzger's "Picoverse"; read my review here.
What next? I'm thinking Charles Stross' "Singularity Sky," but I could easily wind up reading China Mieville's "The Scar."
What next? I'm thinking Charles Stross' "Singularity Sky," but I could easily wind up reading China Mieville's "The Scar."
The Evolution Will Be Mechanized (by the ever-dependable Bruce Sterling)
"The rate of technological change is dizzying, and it's only getting faster. In September at Stanford, the Institute for the Study of Accelerating Change is acknowledging the trend with its second annual Accelerating Change conference. The 2003 confab was billed as 'the first in the world to focus on the multidisciplinary implications of accelerating change and the multidisciplinary implications of accelerating change and the consequences of a technological singularity.' What is a technological singularity? A moment when runaway advances outstrip human comprehension and all our knowledge and experience becomes useless as a guidepost to the future."
"The rate of technological change is dizzying, and it's only getting faster. In September at Stanford, the Institute for the Study of Accelerating Change is acknowledging the trend with its second annual Accelerating Change conference. The 2003 confab was billed as 'the first in the world to focus on the multidisciplinary implications of accelerating change and the multidisciplinary implications of accelerating change and the consequences of a technological singularity.' What is a technological singularity? A moment when runaway advances outstrip human comprehension and all our knowledge and experience becomes useless as a guidepost to the future."
Weird biomechanics in the news
Flower power turns up the volume
"It hooks up to a CD player, TV or stereo and relays sounds up through a plant's stem and out via the petals."
Nose replaces mouse to surf web
"The technology matches the cursor's movements to the path of the nose as the head moves side to side. Motion detection software, meanwhile, is used to pinpoint the blink of a user's eye. A double blink switches the nouse on."
And I thought my touhpad was a bitch . . .
Flower power turns up the volume
"It hooks up to a CD player, TV or stereo and relays sounds up through a plant's stem and out via the petals."
Nose replaces mouse to surf web
"The technology matches the cursor's movements to the path of the nose as the head moves side to side. Motion detection software, meanwhile, is used to pinpoint the blink of a user's eye. A double blink switches the nouse on."
And I thought my touhpad was a bitch . . .
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Dark Matters Surround Dark Energy
"Recently the British science news journal 'New Scientist' revealed that the American military is pursuing new types of exotic bombs - including a new class of isomeric gamma ray weapons. Unlike conventional atomic and hydrogen bombs, the new weapons would trigger the release of energy by absorbing radiation, and respond by re-emitting a far more powerful radiation. In this new category of gamma-ray weapons, a nuclear isomer absorbs x-rays and re-emits higher frequency gamma rays. The emitted gamma radiation has been reported to release 60 times the energy of the x-rays that trigger the effect."
"Recently the British science news journal 'New Scientist' revealed that the American military is pursuing new types of exotic bombs - including a new class of isomeric gamma ray weapons. Unlike conventional atomic and hydrogen bombs, the new weapons would trigger the release of energy by absorbing radiation, and respond by re-emitting a far more powerful radiation. In this new category of gamma-ray weapons, a nuclear isomer absorbs x-rays and re-emits higher frequency gamma rays. The emitted gamma radiation has been reported to release 60 times the energy of the x-rays that trigger the effect."
NASA Transfers X-37 to Unidentified U.S. Agency
"Scaled Composites spokeswoman Kay LeFebvre would not confirm the company's involvement in the planned dropped tests and referred questions about the White Knight's role in the X-37 program to American Mojave Aerospace Ventures. That company, a Paul Allen and Burt Rutan partnership that owns SpaceShipOne and its carrier aircraft, recently announced that it would make its first official try for the $10 million Ansari X-Prize Sept. 29."
"Scaled Composites spokeswoman Kay LeFebvre would not confirm the company's involvement in the planned dropped tests and referred questions about the White Knight's role in the X-37 program to American Mojave Aerospace Ventures. That company, a Paul Allen and Burt Rutan partnership that owns SpaceShipOne and its carrier aircraft, recently announced that it would make its first official try for the $10 million Ansari X-Prize Sept. 29."
'Playboy' Not Alienating For E.T.-Loving Women
"Posing nude to promote extraterrestrial communication isn't for everyone -- but it helps when you have a body that's out of this world."
I wonder if SETI's Seth Shostak has considered this tactic. Nah.
"Posing nude to promote extraterrestrial communication isn't for everyone -- but it helps when you have a body that's out of this world."
I wonder if SETI's Seth Shostak has considered this tactic. Nah.
Bush-Linked Company Handled Security for the WTC, Dulles and United
"George W. Bush's brother was on the board of directors of a company providing electronic security for the World Trade Center, Dulles International Airport and United Airlines, according to public records. The company was backed by an investment firm, the Kuwait-American Corp., also linked for years to the Bush family." (Via Chapel Perilous.)
Yet another one of those wild coincidences, I presume. One "new Pearl Harbor," made to order.
Four more years of this guy, then another four years of someone just like him, et cetera . . .
"George W. Bush's brother was on the board of directors of a company providing electronic security for the World Trade Center, Dulles International Airport and United Airlines, according to public records. The company was backed by an investment firm, the Kuwait-American Corp., also linked for years to the Bush family." (Via Chapel Perilous.)
Yet another one of those wild coincidences, I presume. One "new Pearl Harbor," made to order.
Four more years of this guy, then another four years of someone just like him, et cetera . . .
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Microsoft warns of poisoned picture peril
"The old bromide that promises you can't get a computer virus by looking at an image file crumbled a bit further Tuesday when Microsoft announced a critical vulnerability in its software's handling of the ubiquitous JPEG graphics format."
Part of me loves it when Net mythology comes true. (Thanks to eWarrior.)
"The old bromide that promises you can't get a computer virus by looking at an image file crumbled a bit further Tuesday when Microsoft announced a critical vulnerability in its software's handling of the ubiquitous JPEG graphics format."
Part of me loves it when Net mythology comes true. (Thanks to eWarrior.)
Psychic Claims Aliens Control The Media
"She says they're 'dripping waves of fear and chaos' into broadcasts to keep humans off their path. She says their goal is to 'keep our planet from evolving to where it should be.'"
There's no doubt that our broadcasts are laden with fear and chaos designed to keep us paralyzed. But I suspect the perpetrators are much closer to home.
Of course, this story is via the hard-working team at Wireless Flash News. If my own run-in with this outfit (giant arachnids on Mars) is any indication, it's possible the "psychic" in question said nothing of the sort.
"She says they're 'dripping waves of fear and chaos' into broadcasts to keep humans off their path. She says their goal is to 'keep our planet from evolving to where it should be.'"
There's no doubt that our broadcasts are laden with fear and chaos designed to keep us paralyzed. But I suspect the perpetrators are much closer to home.
Of course, this story is via the hard-working team at Wireless Flash News. If my own run-in with this outfit (giant arachnids on Mars) is any indication, it's possible the "psychic" in question said nothing of the sort.
Object 230 light years away could well be first planet directly seen outside solar system
"But if, in time, the object is unquestionably identified as a planet, the discovery would mark a watershed in the history of science -- one of the biggest since Galileo spotted the moons of Jupiter through a tabletop telescope 394 years ago. For the first time, humans would have directly observed a planet orbiting a star or starlike body rather than indirectly inferring its existence based on its gravitational pull on that body."
"But if, in time, the object is unquestionably identified as a planet, the discovery would mark a watershed in the history of science -- one of the biggest since Galileo spotted the moons of Jupiter through a tabletop telescope 394 years ago. For the first time, humans would have directly observed a planet orbiting a star or starlike body rather than indirectly inferring its existence based on its gravitational pull on that body."
Is AM Radio Harmful?
"The Koreans looked at the death rates in 10 regions with AM radio-transmitting towers broadcasting at more than 100 kilowatts and compared them with control areas without transmitters. The substantially higher cancer mortality in those who lived within two kilometers of the towers led researchers to conclude that more investigation was needed."
"The Koreans looked at the death rates in 10 regions with AM radio-transmitting towers broadcasting at more than 100 kilowatts and compared them with control areas without transmitters. The substantially higher cancer mortality in those who lived within two kilometers of the towers led researchers to conclude that more investigation was needed."
Monday, September 13, 2004
Please take a look at the newly redesigned New World Disorder, which includes a science fiction vignette cribbed from an unfinished novella I haven't had the heart to delete from my hard-drive.
I never knew that the women of ancient Greece were so small and plastic-looking. Or so damned kinky.
I was driving through the suburbs on my way home from my parents' house and glimpsed what looked like a luminous four-foot humanoid figure standing by the roadside. The illusion persisted for about a second: I was actually seeing a reflective stripe on the side of a newspaper vending machine. It must have had a design on it that suggested a tiny person standing in profile, and when my headlights played over it it seemed to materialize out of the dark. Acutely disappointing.
Vote count at mercy of clandestine testing
"'I find it grotesque that an organization charged with such a heavy responsibility feels no obligation to explain to anyone what it is doing,' Michael Shamos, a Carnegie Mellon computer scientist and electronic voting expert, told lawmakers in Washington, D.C."
I don't care for protests. In a digital age, I think they're an insufficiently savvy means of self-expression. They're along the lines of big street parties -- the quintessential Vonnegutian "granfalloon." The mass protests at the Republican National Convention, for example, were a complete waste of time. But I have to wonder if there would have been any effect if anti-Bush protesters had taken their act to Diebold. Probably not; I think we all know the score here.
The irony is that even if this were a real election, Bush would probably win.
Grotesque, indeed.
"'I find it grotesque that an organization charged with such a heavy responsibility feels no obligation to explain to anyone what it is doing,' Michael Shamos, a Carnegie Mellon computer scientist and electronic voting expert, told lawmakers in Washington, D.C."
I don't care for protests. In a digital age, I think they're an insufficiently savvy means of self-expression. They're along the lines of big street parties -- the quintessential Vonnegutian "granfalloon." The mass protests at the Republican National Convention, for example, were a complete waste of time. But I have to wonder if there would have been any effect if anti-Bush protesters had taken their act to Diebold. Probably not; I think we all know the score here.
The irony is that even if this were a real election, Bush would probably win.
Grotesque, indeed.
Is anybody out there?
"In early August a group of people interested in the implications of these cultures in our lives met in Exeter at the Unitarian Church to hear the ideas of Thomas Hansen, Ph.D., from Virginia, and Exeter resident Carol Hochstedler, and to discuss their own ideas. They want the study of Exopolitics, which is concerned with the political, social, economic, technological, environmental, spiritual, military, scientific and personal implications of off-planet cultures interacting with humanity, to come out as a legitimate field of research and dialog."
I don't anticipate anything nearly as quaint as an interplanetary UN, such as the one envisioned by the Disclosure Project and others. In fact, I think postbiological ET intelligences will likely have discarded politics altogether.
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