Every year, around this time, as the weather gets colder, we get an influx of mice moving into our house to find refuge. Our cat is useless — she makes a lot of noise, usually in the middle of the night, but she can never deliver the coup de grace.
It seems I already have a potential solution at hand.
Warning: the videos below show mice meeting a horrible end in the webs of black widows.
The rich have a well-funded network that has been poisoning the collective mind of the country, yet somehow they have failed to penetrate my soft, permeable, liberal skull. How could that be?
“every common hobby for young men–gaming, sports, fitness–is saturated with right-wing propaganda”
Bluesky
There it is, they targeted “gaming, sports, fitness” thereby completely bypassing all of my interests.
Another point not mentioned: have you ever noticed that the biggest, most popular YouTube channels are typically targeted at…children? Mr Beast, PewDiePie, Logan Paul, etc. Then there are lesser channels with a teenaged audience, like Fresh and Fit or Andrew Tate. I’ve skipped over those by getting old. I’m so lucky.
I’m not a fan of phys.org — they summarize interesting articles, but it’s too often clear that their writers don’t have a particularly deep understanding of biology. I wonder sometimes if they’re just as bad with physics articles, and I just don’t notice because I’m not a physicist.
Anyway, here’s a summary that raised my hackles.
Chromosphaera perkinsii is a single-celled species discovered in 2017 in marine sediments around Hawaii. The first signs of its presence on Earth have been dated at over a billion years, well before the appearance of the first animals.
A team from the University of Geneva (UNIGE) has observed that this species forms multicellular structures that bear striking similarities to animal embryos. These observations suggest that the genetic programs responsible for embryonic development were already present before the emergence of animal life, or that C. perkinsii evolved independently to develop similar processes. In other words, nature would therefore have possessed the genetic tools to “create eggs” long before it “invented chickens.”
First two words annoyed me: Chromosphaera perkinsii ought to be italicized. Are they incapable of basic typographical formatting? But that’s a minor issue. More annoying is the naive claim that a specific species discovered in 2017 has been around for a billion years. Nope. They later mention that it might have “evolved independently to develop similar processes”, which seems more likely to me, given that they don’t provide any evidence that the pattern of cell division is primitive. It’s still an interesting study, though, you’re just far better off reading the original source than the dumbed down version on phys.org.
All animals develop from a single-celled zygote into a complex multicellular organism through a series of precisely orchestrated processes. Despite the remarkable conservation of early embryogenesis across animals, the evolutionary origins of how and when this process first emerged remain elusive. Here, by combining time-resolved imaging and transcriptomic profiling, we show that single cells of the ichthyosporean Chromosphaera perkinsii—a close relative that diverged from animals about 1 billion years ago—undergo symmetry breaking and develop through cleavage divisions to produce a prolonged multicellular colony with distinct co-existing cell types. Our findings about the autonomous and palintomic developmental program of C. perkinsii hint that such multicellular development either is much older than previously thought or evolved convergently in ichthyosporeans.
Much better. The key points are:
Cool. The idea is that this organism suggests that single-celled organisms could have acquired a toolkit to enable the evolution of multicellularity long before their descendants became multicellular.
I have a few reservations. C. perkinsii hasn’t been sitting still — it’s had a billion years to evolve these characteristics. We don’t know if they’re ancestral or not. We don’t get any detailed breakdown of molecular homologies in this paper, so we also don’t know if the mechanisms driving the patterns are shared.
I was also struck by this illustration of the palintomic divisions the organism goes through.
a, Plasma membrane-stained (PM) live colonies at distinct cell stages, highlighting the patterned cleavage divisions, tetrahedral four-cell stage and formation of spatially organized multicellular colonies (Supplementary Video 5). b, Actin- (magenta) and DNA-stained (blue) colonies at distinct cell stages showcasing nuclear cortical positioning, asymmetrical cell division (in volume and in time) and the formation of a multicellular colony. This result has been reproduced at least three independent times.
Hang on there : that’s familiar. D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson wrote about the passive formation of cell-like cleavage patterns in simple substrates, like oil drops and soap bubbles, in his book On Growth and Form, over a century ago. You might notice that these non-biological things create patterns just like C. perkinsii.
Aggregations of oil-drops. (After Roux.) Figs. 4–6 represent successive changes in a single system.
Aggregations of four soap-bubbles, to shew various arrangements of the intermediate partition and polar furrows.
An “artificial tissue,” formed by coloured drops of sodium chloride solution diffusing in a less dense solution of the same salt.
That does not undermine the paper’s point, though. Multicellularity evolved from natural processes that long preceded the appearance of animals. No miracles required!
A silly speculation: what if you die, go to heaven, and discover that a god had a set of fundamental rules that it didn’t tell anyone about?
I was initially sympathetic to the idea that a god would judge you for doing harm to small helpless creatures — I avoid killing insects without cause — but then there were a few disparaging comments about spiders, natural given the god’s nature, and I started tallying up my invertebrate body count, and I realized that the video character’s tally of having killed 11,000 insects was pathetic.
I’d be going to bug hell, wouldn’t I?
I’m in the mood for some self-abasement, and also to nod in the general direction of the Xmas season. I’m going to tell you about the most horrible, embarrassing moment of my life so far. Maybe it’ll inspire you to mention your moment of humiliation in the comments to make me feel a little better.
In my youth, I was a regular church-goin’ kid. Sunday school every week, choir every Wednesday, confirmation every Thursday. I was not a believer, but it was the only club that would accept me, and I also liked the music–I was attending more for the choir than anything else. I had a few friends in the group, although…we weren’t good friends, I guess. We never socialized outside the church.
One year we were organizing for a giant Christmas concert involving dozens of churches in the Puget Sound area. We had to do multiple practices every week, and it wasn’t just walking down the street to my local Lutheran church. We were rotating among various churches, a different one every time, to practice together. It was a huge effort, my parents were ferrying me all over the region for a few months ahead of time. I didn’t mind. I had zero patience for the religious nonsense, but if you’ve ever been in a choir, you know that the feeling of singing in harmony with a large group is an almost primeval, inspiring sensation.
The day of the Christmas concert, we loaded up in vans and busses and journeyed to the site of the event: the Kingdome. I told you it was big. The stadium was filled up. All the Washington state choirs were seated in a vast array in the center. When we started singing, we made the whole place vibrate.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling my best. In the hours we were there, I started feeling a little woozy. Then I was trembling. Then I had a cold sweat. Was I nervous? Not really. It’s not as if I had a solo, I was one among many hundreds.
Then it was time for my church group to sing their special song. We stood up, and we started singing the song we’d practiced so hard: “O Come O Come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.” Maybe you know it; I still remember the lyrics because damn, we repeatedly sang that thing so many times before the concert. I stood with my church group, raising my voice before the entire Kingdome audience with cameras aimed at us to record the event.
“O COME O COME…” I sang, wobbling and sweating, and then, suddenly, I felt Satan rising up in my body, like a greasy bubble of demonic filth, then “EMMANUE…” and it hit me, unexpectedly and irresistible, and I started vomiting. Projectile vomiting. A horrific geyser of godliness was instantly purged from my body in an terrible public display.
I did immediately feel better, with one regret: the girl in the row in front of me had a lovely cashmere sweater folded over the back of her chair, and I destroyed it. Sorry.
Our choir director, Mrs Whalen, was incredibly nice and gracious, given that all anyone was going to remember of our hard work and our performance was the kid in the middle who grossed out the entire Kingdome with his horrifying expulsion of bodily fluids. She was one of my favorite people, and she treated my ghastly spectacle with nothing but kindness. I continued on with the choir for maybe a year afterwards, before my inability to reconcile my complete lack of faith and aggressive skepticism with the whole goofy church scene drove me away.
That memory still comes back occasionally these many years later, usually around the holiday season, and I can never hear that hymn without being triggered. I also don’t sing anymore.
So what psychic scars do you all still carry?
There is a group of people who monitor deportation flights out of Boeing Field, and other airports.
Heroes witness fascists
The observation room at Boeing Field offers what is arguably America’s best real-time window into our vast network of privately run deportation flights, a system that has generated troubling reports of passenger mistreatment and in-flight emergencies.
…
While news organizations have reported on some of these incidents aboard what the government calls ICE Air, key details about how the system works would still be hidden were it not for a group of researchers who are now part of the work inside the observation room.
The people and organizations behind these flights have been playing dumb for years — they don’t want to talk about them. They drive busses loaded with people right up to the boarding stairs for these planes; they position jailers and vehicles to obscure any view of the people being herded into the planes. They don’t want us to know about them.
The Washington human rights center’s investigation of ICE Air began in 2018 with a modest goal: to prove that deportation operations took place at King County International Airport, as Boeing Field is officially known. Liberal local officials had enacted various “sanctuary” policies to insulate their residents from then-President Donald Trump’s crackdown on immigrants, but they were unaware (or could at least claim to be unaware) of ICE flights at the county-owned airport. “They all played dumb,” said Maru Mora Villalpando of the immigrant rights group La Resistencia. “All of them were like, ‘Wait, what, there are deportations happening here?’”
Yes, we know they are, thanks to dedicated defenders of civil liberties who try to monitor these flights.
The center began gathering documents that proved it, and also hinted at the worldwide breadth of ICE Air’s network. Their investigation grew. Through records requests to ICE, and after interventions by Washington’s congressional delegation, researchers obtained an ICE Air database spanning eight years of global operations: 1.73 million passenger records from nearly 15,000 flights to and from 88 U.S. airports — Boeing Field indeed among them — and to 134 international airports in 119 countries around the world.
Those dang liberals in Western Washington state began shutting off support to these flights, and ICE began getting even more secretive about them.
A game of cat and mouse had begun, pitting the Trump administration — and later the Biden administration — against local sanctuary advocates.
First, ICE switched locations. It began charter operations out of a municipal airport in the small city of Yakima, located in the farming region about three hours east of Seattle.
But activists began showing up at the Yakima airfield, recording tail numbers and keeping count of people being deported.
Second, ICE changed its flight numbering system. The human rights center had disclosed in its 2019 report that it used the federally assigned prefix “RPN-” for “repatriate” to plug information into free flight-tracking websites and obtain a plane’s tail number and ownership. So ICE dropped the “RPN-” and adopted the call signs of its various charter companies.
Wait a minute…if these flights are perfectly legal, why is ICE trying to hide them?
I repeat: WHY ANY SECRECY AT ALL?
And why does ICE only release strongly edited, even blurred, images of detainees on flights? It’s almost as if they think we might see some brutality.
The 97 videos ProPublica examined, ranging in length from 22 seconds to almost 3 minutes, show signs of careful framing and editing. While detainees are commonly shown climbing the steps in handcuffs and the waist chains that secure them, the videos often cut to a new shot before leg shackles can make an appearance. When leg shackles are visible, they are typically out of focus, discernible only if you know to look for them.
It is common on ICE Air to place passengers in five-point restraints — wrists, ankles, and waists in chains — even as the agency’s own statistics show that less than half of the people deported in 2023 had any kind of criminal conviction, let alone for serious felonies that could suggest a possible risk to others on board.
What ICE’s online videos don’t show is revealing in its own right. In spring 2023, the center obtained a series of ICE Air incident reports detailing various accidents during charter operations, including the one in which a detainee in Alexandria, Louisiana, tumbled down the boarding stairs. Agency investigators recommended that contractors and subcontractors avoid such accidents in the future by placing a guard midway up the stairs to help detainees board and to catch any who lose their balance.
You will not be surprised that ICE has not bothered to place those guards, thanks to the diligent work of outside observers, documenting everything despite the best efforts of ICE to conceal them.
The flights continue. They will increase in numbers, if Republicans get their way.
But, you say, I am a native born American. I’m not at risk of deportation. Consider this: “A relatively overlooked set of companies whose shares have also seen stellar surges are the controversial American private prison firms. “
The immediate reading of the prison stock rally is that the Republicans have positioned themselves as ‘tough on crime’ – though former President Bill Clinton did much to bring the Democratic party to the game as well – meaning that the number of incarcerated persons under the Trump administration is likely to increase.
There are already about 1.9 million people in American prisons – about 0.5% of the U.S. population, estimated at 345 million in 2024 – per the data from the Prison Policy Initiative.
It is worth pointing out that the figure is comparable to incarceration rates in the USSR at the height of the infamous GULAG System. Adam Gopnik even wrote in 2012 that the U.S. has more people under ‘correctional supervision’ than the Soviet Union ever did.
(By the way, screw Bill Clinton, too.)
I think a clear sign of an expanding fascist state is the police hiding their activities, as well as an eager industry looking forward to building even more prisons.
It was hard to get motivated this morning — Fridays are typically low attendance days in the classroom, and I had worked hard to get today’s topic condensed down into a lot of digestible information (we’re talking about the rediscovery of Mendel, the biometrician and Mendelians arguing with each other). I had a presentation that was pretty tight and I thought would help make the conflict comprehensible to a group of liberal arts majors, none of whom are biology majors.
So I get to class today, and was pleasantly surprised to see that I had 80% attendance, which is kind of a miracle. I tell you, standing at the front of a classroom with only 3 students who don’t really appreciate the work you put in to the class is mighty depressing. So I was temporarily heartened that maybe this lecture wouldn’t go to waste, I fired up my laptop and the projector and got ready to tell this exciting story…and the projector is glitched out. It’s not connecting to anything, and is showing me a message that the projector and microphones were not receiving any data since 5:21pm yesterday. Isn’t technology nice that it has become so sophisticated that it can tell you precisely when it broke down?
I fumbled with it for about 15 minutes — that was the show today, watching the old geezer prof toggling switches and poking at a keyboard in front of the class, and seeing everything fail. I ended up giving up, giving them a brief oral summary of the history of biology from 1900-1915, telling them I’ll give them all the details on Monday, and sending them home early. So many smiles from the students! I didn’t tell them that I don’t find that encouraging at all.
Now I’m sitting in an empty classroom waiting for the IT people to show up. At least I can cheer myself up by thinking, hey, this isn’t the worst thing to happen this week.
Freethoughtblogs has a podcast coming up on Saturday, at 4pm Central time. Get your injection of liberal tears then!
(Actually, we’ll try to talk about productive directions, like how to help the people who will be most hurt by this new administration.)
If all of us take little steps to deprive billionaires of some of their power, maybe we can eventually make them care about us little people. Here are some simple things that could make them sting a little bit.
Teeny tiny steps. It’s not much, but it’s a way for me to cope.
Remember, pretty does not mean it doesn’t have a savage bite.
