‘Watson Decoded’ didn’t do much decoding

That PBS documentary on James Watson wasn’t half bad, if you are able to abide a deep dive into the life of a man with almost Trumpian levels of self-delusion (but unlike Trump, with an actual germ of intelligence). The theme of the show, I would say, is that Watson is a man who says what he thinks, so they just let him speak.

So what does James Watson think?

He’s a scientific genius. Rosalind Franklin was an incompetent. DNA is a more important idea in biology than evolution. He’s smarter than Darwin. You are determined by your genes. No one has ever shown any evidence that environment plays a more significant role than genetics. Black people are less intelligent than white people. He regrets having to say that, but you have to speak the truth. He has black friends. He liked to surround himself with pretty girls in the lab. The stuff he said about how everyone knows black employees are inferior was said in a private conversation, and how dare that reporter publish it. His loyal wife argues that he’s not really a racist, because racists say mean things with the intent to make others miserable. Watson’s ego is immense.

I also learned a few things I didn’t know before.

His wife was an 18 year old undergraduate 20 years his junior, working in his office, when he started courting her (this would be considered a serious ethical problem now, but as we are reminded several times, the old boy network was strong.) I’ve met his wife, she was very nice, but seemed a bit frazzled by her efforts to moderate Watson’s comments when they veered off into apologetics for eugenics, as they seemed to do. He has a son with serious mental health issues and a history of behavioral problems…and Watson cared for and loved him very much, which was the one redeeming feature I took away from the show. He also has a lot of former students and colleagues who practically idolize him, but even they think he’s wrong in his genetics mania.

The way it portrayed Maurice Wilkins made him out to be a petty, spiteful little shit. How did Watson and Crick get Franklin’s crucial data? Because Wilkins was resentful of this woman working in his division, and just handed it over. Her data, not his. I guess you can get a Nobel prize for backstabbing.

There were some omissions. The program didn’t say much about his sexism — it shied away from giving any details of the objectionable lectures he was giving that led to his downfall. I would have used more quotes from The Double Helix. Those were his own words, he’s clearly proud of the book, but the way he demeaned Rosalind Franklin was blatant and deplorable. There’s a bit of that, but I would guess they were minimized because the details would have made the show too much of a hatchet job.

‘Watson Decoded’ was good journalism, just presenting the facts and letting Watson hang himself with his own words, but I worry about how some people will twist the facts. Here’s a SUPER-GENIUS who thinks BLACK GENES ARE INFERIOR, and rather than recognizing that he’s a flawed person with deep biases, as the program demonstrates, they’ll see it as a validation of racist ideas. But then, you can’t do much about people with willful, hateful prejudices, and they could have just put up a big black screen with blinking letters saying “HE’S WRONG” (as Nancy Hopkins plainly says), and those people would just ignore it anyway.

Spider update: I peeked

Just a little bit. I tore open a tiny corner of the one egg sac I have right now, and it looks like a batch of fine healthy eggs, and then I quickly folded the bit of sac over it and restored it to the incubator. I’ve been maintaining moderate humidity for it, and it seems to be working.

Otherwise, while I’ve been waiting for the spiders to reproduce, I’ve been cleaning up my lab fairly thoroughly. I threw out stuff from 15 years ago today, and the benchtops are looking tidy, and I washed a mass of dirty glassware. I’ll have to give everyone a video tour once I’m done. It’s been surprisingly pleasant doing mundane tasks around the lab space lately.

Odd rock 4.1 billion miles away

Another robot beyond the outer reaches of the solar system finds a funny-looking rock, and sends back pictures.

It zipped by at high speed and quickly gathered 50 gigabits of data, which is slowly trickling back to us — it’ll take two years to transmit the whole data set. I guess they’re still using AOL dialup out there in the Kuiper belt.

This rock is so distant and in such an empty part of interstellar space that we’ll have no reason and no opportunity to ever visit it again — so look while you can, this is probably the last time human beings will ever see it.

Attitude readjustment

This has not been a good day. I could not take a shower, because our pipes froze (but only the hot water pipe to the bathroom; it was something like -20°C when I got up). Then I discovered the snowplows had sealed off my driveway and the sidewalk with a dense wall of snow, so I had to go out and clear that in the frigid weather. I went in to work for a few hours, and when I came back, the whole house reeked of gas — to be on the safe side, we called the gas company to check it out, but then it turned out that something had cracked in our snowblower, and it had dumped a whole tank of gas in our garage. That’s going to need repair before the next storm.

Everything sucked, basically.

Clearly, the problem is that I posted something cynical and grumpy about this stupid New Year thing, so the calendrical deities are smiting me for dissing the whole concept of “resolutions”. My attitude is the problem. I have to appease the gods of karma now. I must…

OK, I resolve to be more cheerful and less negative. I shall fantasize that Trump and Stephen Miller will start by nibbling each others toes, and choke to death by playing Ouroboros ending in ass-ophagy. This will be the year that global climate change ends, Pewdiepie, Milo, and the Kardashians are forgotten and ignored, the Catholic church goes bankrupt, and everyone realizes that video games are more entertaining than church. I will smile now and then.

Good enough, O Inimical Universe? Curse lifted?

2019

Do you really believe that one arbitrary moment in an arbitrary day of the year represents a kind of metamorphic transition in the state of reality? Because it doesn’t. Changing a digit on your calendar doesn’t do a single significant thing. The chaos of yesterday continues unchanged into the chaos of today. If you were fucked in 2018, you’re still fucked in 2019.

Only difference is that now you might have a hangover.

I find it helpful to go into a new year with the most dismal expectations — just assume the trajectory we’re on will continue, unless we do something. And a “resolution” is not an accomplishment.

End-of-year spider report

Quick update, nothing exciting. The colony has been cleaned up and fed, I’ve got an egg case made on 27 December that I am not touching at all, other than to move it to chamber that I’m maintaining at a constant temperature and moderate humidity. With any luck, I’ll have spiderlings by the end of the week.

I’m still hanging on tenterhooks, though. I’m down to ONE (1) male, who gets rotated around to each of the vials (except to Vera’s — she’s a male-eater). I’m hoping a) he doesn’t get eaten, and b) I get a viable egg sac, otherwise I’m not going to have any embryos until the weather warms up and I can find new spiders around town. To get a sustainable colony, I’m thinking I have to get up to around 50ish adults, which is easily doable.

Cannibalism: the thought experiment

This guy was in a terrible motorcycle accident that mangled his foot so terribly that it had to be amputated. So he took it home and made tacos from the meat, and served it (with their knowledge and consent) to ten of his friends.

Huh. Interesting.

I wondered what I would do if a friend offered to serve me a meal made with bits of himself. I think I’d be willing, and most of my reservation would be from the practice of ethical vegetarianism. But then I’d think that much of my reason for cutting back on meat is to reduce the load humans place on the environment, and what could be more environmentally-minded than eating people? So I’d probably go along with it for the novelty.

If it was my own limb…no, I wouldn’t go this route. I’d be disappointed if I didn’t taste good, especially since I expect some exquisite marbling of my flesh, and I think I’d be tender. I don’t need one more thing to be held in judgment over me, though.

No, I know exactly what I’d do in this situation that I would hope I never experience. Dermestid beetles would get a good meal. Then degreasing and bleaching. Then I’d rearticulate it and mount it on a tasteful frame and hang it on my office wall.

What else would you do with a piece of you? Bury it and let it rot? Burn it?