Despite being in Japanese, you’ll be able to figure out what’s going on: this Tremoctopus, when threatened, unfurls a membranous webbing and swims away, trailing it behind like a cape to distract predators.
Since David Honig pointed out this one perfect picture, I had to put it up top.
That says it all, doesn’t it?
There’s not a lot of substance to this short video, but it is a last chance to see shots of Kent Hovind’s Dinosaur Adventure Land in Pensacola, Florida. It was shut down at the time it was photographed — the poor man refused to get building permits, so county authorities closed his little ‘theme park’ — and now that he’s in jail, I imagine it will all wither away into shabby, weathered plywood and cockroach-infested abandoned shacks. At least, we hope so.
Here’s an interesting opportunity: Lynn Margulis, the controversial scientist, is going on a ‘blog tour’ to promote her new imprint of science books called Sciencewriters Books. What does that mean? She’s going to hang out for a little while on a few blogs and chat and answer questions. If you’ve wanted to have a conversation with the author of the endosymbiont theory and critic of neo-Darwinian theory, here’s your chance.
The tour will kick off on Monday, 12 March, at Pharyngula. She’ll be sending me a short article that I’ll post that morning, and we’ll collect comments and questions. Later that afternoon or evening, she’ll browse through those comments and answer the ones she finds interesting.
In addition, she’ll be available in the Pharyngula chat room (channel #pharyngula on irc.zirc.org; if you don’t have an IRC client, that link will let you use your browser to join in) from 12:00-1:30pm ET.
So mark it on your calendars: an online conversation with Lynn Margulis, next Monday, 12 March, at Pharyngula.
Here’s a nicely focused blog: R. Ford Denison, of the UM Department of Ecology, Evolution, and Behavior, has a new blog titled This Week in Evolution, and he’s planning to put up one post each week summarizing a recently published paper in evolutionary biology. He has specific criteria:
Each week, I plan to discuss a scientific paper that meets the following criteria:
- published during the previous month;
- about some aspect of evolution;
- published after peer review in a journal with a citation impact of at least 1.0 (i.e., no third-tier journals);
- containing significant amounts of data, not just mathematical modeling or discussion.
It’s an excellent plan—check in each week!
A recent article on Deep Sea News mentions the Ritual of 365 Points—since this is such an important reference to cephalophiliacs, I thought I’d repost my summary of a classic movie that hinges on it as a plot point.
I have seen The Calamari Wrestler. It was…indescribable. I won’t even try. The basic idea, though, is that it’s about pro wrestling in Japan, with a dying wrestler who undergoes a magical transformation in Pakistan to keep him alive, which also allows him to become a super-star in the ring. He battles rivals to learn a heartwarming secret at the end.
I’ve put a few frames below the fold. Don’t try to view them as a narrative; this is a surreal movie about wrestling invertebrates.
The archives of Natural History magazine contain some strange old stories—like this tale from 1933, when whales were casually slaughtered, and you could write about their death throes in a popular magazine. There’s a memorable image in it, at least.
Unimaginable numbers of squids, which occur in practically all parts of the oceans, are devoured by sperm whales. The certainty of this is, of course, obvious from the bulk of the mighty foragers and the size and number of the schools engaged in an unceasing quest for food throughout all the warmer sea waters of the globe. It was indelibly impressed upon my mind, however, by an incident witnessed during a South Atlantic cruise in the old New Bedford whaling brig “Daisy.” I manned stroke oar in the mate’s boat, and on one occasion our harpooner made fast to a medium-sized sperm whale, perhaps thirty-five feet in length, which showed very little fight, and which we overtook soon after the iron had been planted. The first pricks of the terrible lance, thrust and “churned” by the mate, evidently found its life, for the whale went immediately into a flurry, swimming desperately around the boat, and rolling over and over so that the line encircled it many times. Then, while we watched its dying struggles at close range, the beast began to belch up squids. Barrelful after barrelful of the tentacled creatures, some but freshly swallowed, others in advanced stages of disintegration, floated to the surface all about our boat. Most of them seemed to have bodies a foot and a half or two feet long, but some were larger. By the time the whale floated fin-out and lay still, the slimy carcasses and fragments of squids covered the space of an acre or more.
Biology isn’t always pretty.
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