Rumor has it that it is John Wilkins’ eleventeenth birthday. He’s on the other side of the planet, though, where it’s tomorrow already, so I’m not sure if his birthday was yesterday which is today or tomorrow which might be today or what. Go wish him a happy celebration anyway and tell him to explain the date to us.
Here I am, rooming with that space case, Phil Plait, and what should appear on the astronomy photo of the day but a cosmic cephalopod, a picture of Comet Holmes that has a resemblance to a cartoon octopus.
Perhaps this is a sign of reconciliation? That the savage enmity between two science blogs shall be soothed? That the ferocious competition between the best science blog on the web and the blog that tied with a junk science site shall be at an end? That disparate disciplines can find common ground in the beauty of the natural universe?
Naaah, I hope not. The rivalry is too much fun.
I can’t decide whether it’s superfluous or appropriate for a Swede to host the Carnival of the Godless — aren’t they all unchurched heathens in horned helmets over there?
One of the most vocal pro-creationist governors in the country, Ernie Fletcher of Kentucky (home of Ken Ham’s infamous creationist “museum”) has had his re-election bid go down in flames. This is fabulous news. Revere sees it as one more sign of the impending demise of the religious right — I can’t be quite so optimistic, since they always seem to resurrect themselves. Greg Laden is also pleased with the result. He also takes exception to the claim that creationism is properly taught in social studies and comparative religion classes — and to that, I’d add the frequent suggestion that it belongs in philosophy classes. It does a disservice to all of those disciplines. At best, it ought t be mentioned in abnormal psychology classes, as an example of the madness of crowds or of religious hysteria.
I’m only linking to this horror because I’m a militant atheist and I want you to lose your faith in a beneficent god.
This is going to be a big problem. I’m at this gathering of bloggers, which means they’re all going to be posting stuff about our meeting here at Americans United, and I’m outnumbered — I can’t keep up. I had dinner with Blue Gal, BAC, DCup, and One Pissed Off Veteran, and some of them already have pictures up.
And after dinner we had the combined Pharyngula/Bad Astronomy gathering, which seemed to have a majority of BA fans, to my chagrin. I think more failed to show up because they know I shoot laser beams out of my eyes. We also got a surprise visit from Tara and an Evil Monkey. The ScienceBorg Collective was out in force, trying to collect souls for the Empire — we leaned on Phil a bit, but he is stubborn. Clearly, it’s time to deploy the fully operational…but wait, I’ve said too much.
Anyway, anyone who was there should speak up in the comments, and feel free to leave a link — it will simplify my efforts to keep track of everyone.
Oh, one guy it’ll be easy to keep up with is Phil, who is still unconscious up in the room. I guess he needs his beauty sleep.
Laugh, everyone! A bunch of the people who reject scientific ideas about global warming, including a certain big fat fish and quite a few right wing blogs, were taken in by a fake paper that claimed that “concerns about manmade global warming are unfounded.” If you have even the slightest acquaintance with math, all you have to do is glance at the paper to see that the equations are all gibberish.
Nature has a summary, and an interview with the author of the hoax.
Of course, it’s not exactly comparable to the Sokal hoax since this one didn’t take in the mainstream climatologists at all…only a collection of fringe pundits who oppose an inconvenient reality.
Since everyone on the planet is sending me this, I’d better post it. Besides, it’s pretty!
(via Ectoplasmosis)
You have to see the mascot for Orangina, some fruity drink, to believe it. She’s kind of hot in a peculiarly cephalopod/tetrapod hybrid way, but then…the video. Oh. My. Non-existent. God. Sex and furries. She gives a lap-dance to a bear-man and squeezes orange juice out of her mammaries.
My brain is scarred. I don’t think I could ever drink Orangina without thoughts of bestiality frolicking unbidden through my head.
(No thanks to Jim Lippard for contaminating my brain with this stuff.)
