Is this part of the official Cephalopodmas celebration?

Oh! Respectful Insolence uncovers more woo-woo nonsense, a scheme called Global Orgasm that urges everyone to get it on on one particular day.

The intent is that the participants concentrate any thoughts during and after orgasm on peace. The combination of high-energy orgasmic energy combined with mindful intention may have a much greater effect than previous mass meditations and prayers.

The goal is to add so much concentrated and high-energy positive input into the energy field of the Earth that it will reduce the current dangerous levels of aggression and violence throughout the world.

Exactly what is this “high-energy orgasmic energy” that will be injected into the earth’s “energy field”? How does it compare to, for instance, UV from the sun? I think that if you actually measured it, at best what you’d get is a negligible amount of extra heat. It will have exactly the same effect as mass meditations and prayers, i.e., none. Or perhaps we’ll now be told that science can have nothing to say about this business?

Haven’t these people ever heard of mass spawning? I think the prayers of a few copulating people are going to be totally swamped out by the pleas of corals, algae, echinoderms, etc., and if this stuff actually worked, the earth would be 99% ocean and humans would be extinct…and who wants to encourage a practice that urges you to have sex only once a year?

Worst of all, though, these people are usurping my holiday, Cephalopodmas. That’s right, all this woo-woo New Age nonsense is scheduled for 22 December. I say we need to steal it back: go ahead and have sex on Cephalopodmas, but out of appreciation for biodiversity, do something effective and use birth control.

The octopus as a pet

Thinking about getting a pet? You should read Animal Reviews first, to see if it will fulfill your needs. For example, the review of the octopus suggests that I need one, right now.

Next, Octopi are what are known as Cephalopods, a science word meaning that they are constructed entirely out of squish, with no bones whatsoever. Sensational! Yet, unlike their clearly unmotivated cousins the clam and the spinach, they have managed to get themselves hold of tentacles. And not just two or three ‘bitty’ tentacles either, but eight great big ones sticking out of their drippy bodies, whipping out to grab fish and diver’s air tanks. The only deterrent at first sight is the octopus’ overwhelmingly cold demeanour, which is at once both silent and calculating, and radiates an aura of eerie menace.

Scientific accuracy isn’t exactly their strong point.

Eugenie Scott in Kansas

I have to preface this with the comment that I like Eugenie Scott, I think she does a wonderful job, and she’s trying to accomplish the difficult task of treading the line between being a representative of science and building an interface with culture and politics. I couldn’t do that job. I’d be inspiring rioting mobs outside the office window. However, I also think she’s wrong, and that she’s working too hard to pander to public superstition to be effective at communicating science.

Jon Voisey took notes on her recent lecture in Kansas. Much of what she said I can go along with, although I think sometimes she’s failing to go the step further necessary to make the fundamental point. Like this:

Yet despite this, science is a limited way of knowing. The reason for this is that science can only explain the natural world, the universe of matter an energy, and as such, it can only use natural causes.

[Read more…]

Dudes, what were you thinking?

When a commenter says she is a 14 year old girl who is a home-schooled genius, thinks Evolution, Genetics and Astral Projection are neat-o, peppers her comments with grammatical and spelling errors and “giggles”, says she wishes a sexy man would give her a massage, claims that her hobbies include body painting — nude body painting — and posts links to photos purportedly of herself engaging in that hobby…shouldn’t there be little alarm bells going off in your heads? Actually, maybe big bells, a giant cathedral carillon, sirens going whoop-whoop-whoop, and flares going up? I know, sometimes it’s hard to believe how kooky some people in the real world can be, but this 14 year old girl wrote more like how a 40 year old virgin male would think a 14 year old girl would write.

Shorter version: ‘Victoria Fox’ is banned, and the last couple of days worth of ‘her’ trolling have been disemvowelled. Please don’t encourage the preverts, OK?

Categorization

It’s all very nice that Elayne Riggs refers to me as an A-list blogger, but it’s not true. We weird scienceblog types have to be placed on a completely different alphabet, and I have decided that I want to be on the ζ-list. Mainly because I like the squiggle.

Update your blogrolls appropriately, please.

Also via Elayne, I had to try this site that lets you figure out where you’d end up if you dug a hole through the center of the earth. I have discovered that there is a place more remote, empty, and isolated than Morris, Minnesota: it’s the center of the Indian Ocean. Although it probably does have cephalopods, so it’s a bit of a toss-up.

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Remind me why we take these guys seriously at all?

There’s some loony Indonesian witch doctor trying to put a voodoo curse on GW Bush. While I can sympathize with the sentiment, the method is a stupid waste of time (except, perhaps, that it has gotten the witch doctor in the news, so maybe it’s just a high-tech way to drum up business)—and it’s not something anyone could take seriously.

Or so I thought, until a link on Alicublog led me to this fairly well known wingnut, Rod Dreher. He starts out with some offensive macho colonialist remarks, punctuated with a description of this well known scene:

One of my favorite scenes in all of cinema is in one of the Indiana Jones movies, the first I think, when some grand, scimitar-wielding assassin leaps in front of Indy inside a souk, does some whoop-de-do presentation with his sword as a prelude to chopping the American to bits. Indy, unperturbed, laconically pulls out his revolver and blows the dude away.

Personally, I have mixed feelings about that scene—it’s not just a commentary about the superiority of Western technology, but also personifies the casual destruction of non-Western peoples by the European side of the world. But OK, go with the flow, it’s a cartoonish movie that probably doesn’t warrant that kind of cultural concern…and since Dreher started this with the silly witch doctor story, he’s probably talking about the inefficacy of old ideas against new technology and science.

But no…

Nevertheless, I can’t honestly say I don’t believe this stuff can work. If you want to disbelieve in it with ease, don’t hang out with exorcists, or talk with people intimately familiar with the occult. I’ll be praying for the president’s safety, though I would have done so the minute he got there, given how jihadi-infested Indonesia is. I wish he weren’t going, frankly.

What? I read that as Dreher siding with the occultists, supernaturalists, and religious with the Indonesian witch doctor in believing that magic might work. These two procedures are identical in their effectiveness:

Ki Gendeng Pamungkas slit the throat of a goat, a small snake and stabbed a black crow in the chest, stirred their blood with spice and broccoli before drank the “potion” and smeared some on his face.

I’ll be praying for the president’s safety


The one on the left does have a lot more “whoop-de-do”, but both are indistinguishable otherwise—they’re invocations of invisible supernatural spirits. I therefore think it’s appropriate that we take a “crunchy con” like Dreher about as seriously as we do Ki Gendeng Pamungkas—as a kook, a joke, a rather laughable and backwards clown, a silly political punchline. Maybe we can start calling him “Mr Bone-Through-the-Nose”, too. Ooga-booga.

There are better fates than this

What if Stan Lee worked for Chick Publications? You’d get apocalyptic tracts with giant planet-eating space men.

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(via Pen-Elayne)

This is all you’re getting from me for a while. I just finished a 9 hour long meeting (freaking uncivilized, if you ask me), and next I have to go attend some god-awful Christian propaganda — my daughter is the stage manager for the high school production of “Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat”, so I have to go — and I suspect my day is going to continue its trend of ongoing frustration and exasperation. It is in my best interests to avoid further posting to the web until the demons fade away.

I just hope I don’t rise up in the middle of this play, barking and howling in tongues, with my head spinning around on my neck. It could happen.

Please, Galactus, come eat me now.

Bowling for Science

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On Tuesday, I’ll be in the Twin Cities to pick up #2 Son for Thanksgiving break, and as long as I’m there, I’ve been invited to join in the fun of this month’s Cafe Scientifique: it’s the Physics of Bowling, to be held at Bryant Lake Bowl in Minneapolis. This has the potential to be very interesting, since they’re pitting the best of BRB bowling team against…scientists. They promise that there will be science-based bowling tips, so maybe there’s hope. (Anyone else remember Egghead Jr., the smart chicken in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons who excelled at sports by scrawling formulas to calculate what he’d do next? I don’t think that works in the real world, but we’ll see.)

To entice people to show up, this could be dramatic entertainment. I am a very bad bowler. There is a chance of pratfalls. There could be injury and death and destruction, and blood on the floor. I could fall over, burst into flames, and explode. At the very least, you’ll get to watch a geek do a spastic dance and throw a heavy ball somewhere. You don’t want to miss this!

(Unfortunately, if the organizers read this they may decide that somebody else might be preferred to bowl—liability issues, you know. Having all the spectators laid out prostrate with laughter could be risky.)