For Dr. Pal

I’m cutting corners where I can;
It’s good to be so frugal!
I’m cutting out my doctor, and
Replacing him with Google!

That mole that keeps on growing?
I’m convinced it’s fungal rust!
(If I can’t trust Wikipaedia,
Who else, then, can I trust?

My doctor says such fungi
Are a problem… but for plants.
He’s stuck in Western Medicine,
Won’t give my view a chance!)

My Neighbor swears by St. John’s Wort,
My mom, by chicken soup–
And eBay has a listing for
Some pure organic goop–

I’m going to cure that silly mole
Through different ways of knowing;
Ignore the fact that, as I act,
The damned thing keeps on growing.

It’s harder to ignore it now,
And keep it out of sight;
But god I hate that doctor, cos
He’s so convinced he’s right!

I’m going to try some reiki, and
Some therapeutic touch;
It’s just as good as doctors, and
It doesn’t cost as much!

Ok, it’s been a month or two–
I guess it didn’t work.
It’s time to suck it up and see
The doctor (what a jerk!).

I TOLD YOU SO! I did! I did!
My fears have all come true!
The doctor saw the mole and said
There’s nothing he can do.

(In truth, he added “at this point”,
And placed the blame on me–
Which shows that I was right, to hate
The worthless S.O.B.)

Context–for the record, I really like Dr. Pal, and appreciate his honest blogging, his passion and occasional exasperation, and the care he so obviously shows for his community. Check out his “donors choose” posts, and help make a meaningful difference!
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Icarus, Daedalus, Falcon, and Richard Heene

Daedalus wanted a show on TV
Which his fans, by the millions, would view
Where he’d show off his theories, inventions, and stuff,
And be famous, and maybe rich, too.

Daedalus worked on a flying machine
With his wife, and his children as well
Which Falcon er, Icarus fit right inside—
And they thought that it really looked swell!

A weather balloon and some duct tape and mylar,
Supporting a small plywood box
Which Daedalus (“Dad”) claimed would carry a charge
For potentially dangerous shocks

It looked like a saucer—A UFO ship
Which they knew that the networks would love
They were right, and by millions the people tuned in,
Holding breath as it drifted above

While Icarus hid in the attic for hours,
Dad cried for the cameras below
The cops and the networks took in every word,
Each doing their part “for the show”

Though cautious at first, police are now saying
The whole thing is likely a hoax;
And now that potential disaster is moot,
Be prepared for a windfall of jokes

All Daedalus wanted was cameras and lights,
For people to all know his name
But his cunning plan melted, came crashing to earth
When his family flew too close to fame.

Context, for those living in caves.

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The Flight Of The Falcon

The Flight of the Falcon, on cable TV,
Was followed by millions (including, yes, me),
Who watched as the media chased a balloon
And hoped against hope that they’d find the kid soon.

You ask why a knowledge of science is needed?
The info was there, though it wasn’t much heeded:
The size of the craft was decidedly small,
And it couldn’t have lifted young Falcon at all.

At five feet in thickness, and twenty feet wide,
The saucer held 600 cubed feet inside;
A hundred and fifty (or more) feet too few,
So flying was something the boy could not do.

(I cynically picture some geek on the staff
Who ran through the numbers and had a quick laugh,
Alerted the bosses: “there’s nothing to fear!”
“–But the ratings!” they said, “get your ass outta here!)

I realize, just now, at the end of my verse,
I really can’t figure which option is worse!
A cynical network, just jerking our chain,
Or science too tough for the news to explain!

Context, in case you live in a cave.

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Someone Is Wrong On The Internet

Someone Is Wrong
…On The Internet,
And I won’t get to sleep for a while,
Cos I’ll stay up and fight if it takes me all night
When I know I am right and my coffee is strong
Because Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
And the cases they cite are all lame;
I don’t mean to be picky, but hell, it’s not tricky,
Just google or wiki, you’ll see before long
Because Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
And I’m not going to idly sit by!
What he says is a crock! So I’ll teach, tease, or mock
Till my internal clock thinks I live in Hong Kong
Because Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
On a topic of interest to me,
And the rancor’s increased; I’m becoming a beast
And that glow in the East is becoming quite strong
Because Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
Which I’ve stayed up the whole night to say
But his head is cement, and I’ve made not a dent
And one hundred percent of the gathering throng
Says that Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
But it looks like they’re siding with him.
They are here not to cheer for the points I’ve made clear
On this fight I’ve used sheer force of will to prolong
Because Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
It’s beginning to look like it’s me.
I can hardly admit that my logic is shit
But it doesn’t quite fit, ‘less I twist it a bit,
So defeated I sit, at the end of my wit…
Since time will permit, I will land one more hit:
Declare victory, quit, let that be my swan song,
Because Someone Is Wrong!
…On The Internet
Me.

image source XKCD, as if I had to tell you

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NPR’s Brain On God


Image (and story), NPR

Part 1: The God Chemical

Serotonin, in the human, is found mostly in the gut;
It helps peristaltic motion not to quit.
Serotonin—“the God chemical?”—If true, I’ll tell you what:
In both processes, the end result is shit.

Neurotransmitters will regulate the way we think and feel,
Or hallucinate or daydream, just the same.
We may feel a holy presence, but that doesn’t make it real;
It’s just serotonin, playing at its game.

Part 2: The God Spot

Teasingly, seizingly,
Neural activity,
Mostly confined to the
Temporal lobe,

Looks diagnostic to
Epileptologists,
Pointing to Abraham,
Moses, or Job.

Part 3: Spiritual Virtuosos

The brains of those who meditate (or speak in tongues, or pray)
Exhibit odd activity, or so researchers say.
It shouldn’t be surprising that their brains are acting odd—
That’s quite a lot of work for them to do… creating God.

Part 4: The Biology Of Belief

Can I influence things with my mind?
In experiments, run double-blind,
The clear answer is “no”;
But the money will go
To the studies more poorly designed.

The data, so far, have been clear;
Your mind won’t, when you’re gone, persevere.
Once you draw your last breath,
There’s no life after death,
Though that isn’t what some want to hear.

And the numbers are clear about prayer:
No effect (maybe God isn’t there?).
And I don’t find it funny
To hear that my money
Is spent on this sordid affair.

Part 5: Near-Death Experiences

The cases all vary, as well you might guess—
There cannot be “standard conditions”
The end of a life is a terrible mess—
Too bad for the researchers’ missions.

Reports of a “near death experience” may
Involve seeing a light, or may not.
Did your life flash before you, as some people say?
(I guess sometimes, they simply forgot.)

Was your heart being monitored? How ‘bout your brain?
You may guess that such cases are rare.
The claims may be many, but sometimes we strain
To find something reliable there.

But always the stories will grow in the telling
To tales we can hardly conceive!
(Especially so, when there’s books to be selling)
Some people just want to believe.

A couple of comments… I really really really found this article annoying. In what appears to be “showing both sides to the story”, weasel-like language is used again and again. “Scientists are looking at…” um… how many scientists? What percentage of the people looking at this topic are looking at it from this perspective? “[A] small but increasing number of scientists…” increasing from what to what? Again, what percentage of relevant researchers fit your description?

In this case, I have taught courses in relevant subject areas, and I know that they are presenting a very highly distorted view of the picture. But you don’t have to believe me; there are libraries and databases you could check. Libraries and databases that NPR must have studiously ignored.

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Greed And Woo Kill Two In AZ

In Arizona news, today
A tale involving James A. Ray—
As seen on Oprah, he’s the man
Who tells us all, that Yes! We can!
Can make more money! Gain more wealth!
Can grow our spirit, mind, and health!
Create the life of which you dream!
He’s hit a speed bump, it would seem.
He hosts a lodge, where people meet
At his Sedona health retreat
His guests lined up—they chose to pay
Perhaps nine thousand bucks to stay
And join with other open minds
And other guests of many kinds
(I’ve seen his website—all you need,
To wish to join this group is… greed.)
At Angel Valley, host James Ray
Was with the others, there today,
Inside a sweat lodge, close and hot,
Where people learn what they have got—
A journey of the spirit, and
The mind—at least, that’s what was planned.
A leap of faith; a show of trust;
They’d brave the sweat-lodge if they must;
And when they started feeling funny,
Concentrated on the money.
Like Oprah’s “Secret”, here you’ll find
Success is found inside your mind—
Mind over matter! Just be tough!
You’ll win, if you are strong enough!

With sixty-four shut tight inside
A score fell sick, and two have died.

A brief story in most of the major news providers, but an interesting backstory. This was a retreat hosted by an Oprah favorite, James Arthur Ray, who is one helluva motivational speaker, apparently. From his website: (wait, seriously, is that a pyramid? How can anyone offering wealth on the internet put a pyramid on their website?)

Anyway, he hosts retreats at Angel Valley in Arizona, where people pay a bunch of money to do stuff.

Self-help expert and author James Arthur Ray rented the facility as part of his “Spiritual Warrior” retreat that began Oct. 3 and that promised to “absolutely change your life.” The schedule had few details about what participants could expect, other than thrice-daily meals and group gatherings that started at 7 a.m. and ended 16 hours later.

The details came in a lengthy release of liability that acknowledges participants may suffer “physical, emotional, financial or other injuries” while hiking or swimming, or during a multi-day personal and spiritual quest in the wilderness without food or water or the sweat lodge.
…
Some participants told detectives they paid up to $9,000 for the event. In a testimonial on the Angel Valley retreat’s Web site, Ray said it “offers an ideal environment for my teachings.”

Source: AP.
Woo-inspired mind-over-matter bullshit led these people to stay in that lodge after they felt sick. If they leave, it is because they are weak, because they lack faith, because they aren’t good enough.

I only hope Ray has the balls to accept responsibility. It would certainly be consistent with his message to blame the victims, and that would be horrible.

Again from the AP:

Ray’s most recent posting on his Twitter account said: “Still in Spiritual Warrior … for anything new to live something first must die. What needs to die in you so that new life can emerge?”

The posting and two others were deleted Friday afternoon.

No comment.

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Offensive Billboard Removed By Courageous Bigot(s)

Before:

After:

Story.

It almost made me ill, Lord,
What I saw up on that billboard
Down at Poplar Ave and High Street, as I drove along today;
I was passing by, commuting,
When I saw a man saluting—
In a uniform and everything—but doing it while gay!
It’s offensive and disgusting,
How he’s standing there, just lusting
(You can see it in his eyes, I think, or maybe in his smile)
We must all protect the children,
Who must find such smut bewild’rin’,
And remove these homo billboards as offensive, crude, and vile!
Must we really see gay faces
In our normal, public places?
Must they rub it in our faces that they’re living in our town?
It could jeopardize the traffic,
Standing there, all pornographic—
For the benefit of everyone, I had to tear it down!

I’m all for the First Amendment
But the messages these send, meant
That my children might think homos are the same as you and me
So I used my free expression
To remove their indiscretion
Now the Memphis that we live in is decidedly more free!
There are other billboards out there
That the world can do without, where
People see them on their way to work, with children in the car—
Why, it’s bordering on criminal:
A sign on which two women’ll
Be saying that “We’re married, and God loves us as we are”!
I’m not normally so pensive
But these signs are so offensive,
And what’s worse, they’ve got me thinking, which I really hate to do!
If the message is far-reaching,
What a horror that they’re teaching—
What if people start believing it… that gays are normal, too?

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(I could have sworn I saw this story on CNN.com, but it is not there now. Poor memory? I certainly hope so.)

On Prayer (And Introducing A Real God)

“In prayer, you should stay silent.” ”No, you have to pray out loud!”
“Your thoughts, you share with God alone.” ”No, share them with the crowd!
“Your prayers must follow models; you can’t make them up yourself!”
“If prayers are from the heart, then leave the Bible on its shelf!”
“Your prayers are adoration to the lord, thy God, above!”
“If you ask, it shall be granted, be it health, or gold, or love!”

With all the disagreement on the proper form of prayer,
It’s enough to make you wonder if a God is really there.

So, yeah, the New York Times Sunday Magazine has a story today entitled “The Right Way To Pray?“, with the tag line “Americans aren’t sure they know how to talk to God. Fortunately, there is plenty of instruction available.” Not “Many Americans”, or even “Most Americans”, let alone “Some Americans”. Americans. So I guess I am not sure I know how to talk to God. Fortunately or unfortunately (see how easy that was?), there was this article to enlighten me.

(Oh, there was also a link to the comments section, with the phrase “How do you pray? Share your experiences.” Again, the assumption is there, taunting me.)

The article, predictably, found that the “plenty of instruction” often disagreed (but one is left with the notion that, no matter how you do it, it is better to pray than not to… even though the author does not pray, himself). Even better, the comment section disagreed. Not nearly enough atheist voices among them for my taste, but that is just me, and you will recall from above that I do not know how to talk to God.

Anyway, I have come up with a solution.

Part of the problem, of course, is that these people are talking to a fictional entity, and asking for advice, or saying how cool He is, or asking forgiveness of Him rather than of the person they slighted. They aren’t getting answers, because they might as well be asking the Cat in the Hat. So, it seems to me we need a Living God. And heavy though the burden may be, I am hereby declaring myself to be a god. Maybe the only one, for all I know, but I do know that I exist, and that I can give advice, and that I can declare myself to be a god.

So. The first question, then, and the reason for me being a god in the first place, is this silliness about “what is the right way to pray?” No more asking a mute god and getting to make shit up; I am a god that will actually give an answer. There is a right way to pray, and as soon as I decide what it is, I will let you know.

Ok, I have decided.

First, I don’t want you praying to me at all, although I will tell you how to if you must. You see, most of the stuff people pray for, I can’t give you. I’m not omnipotent, nor omnipresent, nor omniscient. There is a name for the sort of god who is those things. Fictional. Me, I’m just me, although I am now a god. Because I said so. Exactly the same authority as any other god.

So, no praying to me except in conditions which require you to. For instance, if a different religious group gets permission to pray in public school, and in order not to violate the establishment clause of the First Amendment you need to have an official prayer to me (by the way, in situations like this, I not only will accept your prayers, but I will demand them–I am not a fickle and jealous god, but if I were there would be plenty of precedent). If your principal or superintendent doubts your religious sincerity, have them call me. I will assure them that, yes, I am a god, and yes, I require a very particular prayer ritual. Should they question it, I can only ask that they likewise question any and all other religious rituals from other gods.

The ritual? Oh, it is fairly simple. You take a relatively small animal (a large rabbit, for instance, or a small lamb), and have two strong people hold it firmly. While shouting, loudly (if at school, I require the public address system to broadcast the entire ritual), the verse “The Octopus Gods“, repeatedly, but slowly, stab the creature with a well-sharpened number two pencil. The goal is to get it to scream, loudly and horribly, as it dies. If it takes a while, repeat the poem.

I very seriously do not anyone to pray to me. I sincerely hope this ritual is never used, not even once. But it is the only proper way to pray, according to this self-declared god. And if any other religion gets their prayers in public school, I want mine there too. Well, actually, I don’t, but the law is the law, and if one religion gets in, we all do.

It occurs to me that there are some other benefits of being a god. For instance, one of the chief uses of gods these days is as someone on whom to foist unpopular or immoral decisions, like “God told us this was our land”, or “god hates fags”, or “god wants us to kill abortionists”. Well, I’ll have none of it. You see a guy with a “god hates fags” sign, I can guarantee he’s lying, and I am happy to be quoted by news outlets. No more “god was unavailable for comment” (wouldn’t that actually be nice to see in a story); next time a tortilla gets scorched, Fox News can call me to confirm or deny. Hey, I won’t lie–if I actually did do it, I’d admit it.

I can’t really offer forgiveness, but then neither can the fictional gods. I can, however, tell you to go and beg forgiveness from the people you hurt, and to work to make it right again. Yeah, not what you want to hear, but the alternative is admitting that all that praying to the fictional gods was just to make yourself feel better.

Hmm… Just thinking…. I may have to change the “tip jar” into “tithes and offerings”.

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Suppose You Found An Actual Alien…

Daringly, erringly,
Children in Panama
Saw a strange being, and
All held their breath:

Certain the creature was
Extraterrestrial,
Showed they were human, and
Beat it to death.

In some of the pictures, the “creature” looks like E.T., or “a fetus”, or some unidentifiable alien being. In the video, it is fairly clearly (to my eye, anyway) a three-toed tree sloth. But “teens beat sloth to death” is not nearly so cool a headline as “unidentifiable creature found in Panama” (the title of the linked video). Note the use of “unidentifiable” rather than “unidentified”; a small but crucial difference.

There are a great many stories already, and there will be more. Even CNN is going with the “unknown/unknowable” angle. As of this writing, Google news lists a mere 120 news articles. Any bets?

My favorite coverage thus far is this nicely skeptical article:

The story begins at a waterfall near the town of Cerro Azul, Panama. A group of teens, four in all, were playing in the area when the mystery creature, a large hairless monster, shuffled out from a cave hidden by the waterfall. According to most accounts, the creature approached the boys. Growing alarmed, they began to throw rocks at the monster. They continued to do so until it — Gollum, E.T., monster, whatever — stopped moving. Satisfied that they had killed the hairless mystery creature, the Panamanian emissaries of Earth tossed E.T. into the water.

But in all the pictures being circulated on the web, E.T./Gollum looks more like a hairless sloth (and has been identified as such by many who have seen a full body picture of the Panamanian mystery creature), which means that the animal moves at an extremely slow pace (it is difficult to move across the ground on its hooked-claw feet). Which means that the teens might have been alarmed when they first saw the creature but could have easily outran it, so remaining frightened at something that presents no real danger probably did not occur. And they certainly did not have to pelt the mystery creature with stones until it died. That the teens decided to make a sport out of hitting the mystery creature with rocks sounds like a typical teen reaction. But it is doubtful they did it out of fear.

So they lied. They’re teenagers. It’s what they do best, besides eat and sleep and whine about being bored.

There are other news outlets showing evidence that it is a sloth:

…

Nevertheless the local media has played up the story, reporting that zoologists are unable to identify the “alien-like” creature. But DNA testing should soon confirm what most are saying: the animal is a sloth.

As a consequence of a slow news cycle towards the end of summer, August and September tend to be peak months for sightings of “strange” and “unidentified” creatures including unusual marine life, malformed animals and the mythological beasts like the Chupacabra, the Mongolian Death Worm, Big Foot, and the Loch Ness Monster.

I wonder how long it will take CNN to correct themselves?

It’s a sloth. They are teenagers. Ignorance->fear->kill it. No wonder the aliens all choose to show themselves to isolated individuals with lousy cameras. They are scared!

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Barnacle Stan, The Sessile Man

Barnacle Stan, the sessile man,
Afraid to even look;
A timid fool, his tidal pool
An ancient holy book.
Between its pages, stuck for ages,
Keeping safe from Hell,
For fear of fire, he’ll ne’er inquire,
But stay inside his shell.

Barnacle Stan, he hatched a plan;
The gist of it was this:
He’d stay inside, forever hide,
Cos ignorance is bliss;
He’d sometimes write, with great delight
About his lovely view–
And tell us we should be so free…
I’m not convinced. Are you?

Context.

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