In which I bring down Phil Plait! Muahahaha!

Just kidding. I liked Death from the Skies a lot better than I liked Supersense, which sucked the moon from the sky (which is another way that the world can end! Yay!). Of course, I liked ear surgery better than Supersense, so take that for what it is worth.

Phil Plait's book is perhaps the bloodiest book ever written. Seriously. By my count, Plait killed over 61.2 billion people by the end of the book (6.8 billion in each of nine chapters).

As you might have guessed, Death from the Skies is one cataclysmic book, and Plait is at all points on the verge of giving his more panicsome (it should be a word) readers aneurisms (the word should be spelled that way). You've probably read the book before, but basically, he lists all the immense forces in the universe that could cook our collective goose. Black holes are bad in many ways, whether they spaghettify, er, spaghettificate (ahem), suck you unpleasantly hard or blast you with radiation--you either vanish into an inaccessible part of the cosmos or get flash-fried like a chicken.

By lucky happenstance, I am still listening to Richard Pogge's course, "Life in the Universe," and there is a lot of intersection between the the book and the podcast. All the things that Pogge says can't happen to a planet if we want to find life, Plait makes happen to us. If Pogge wants to protect us from UV and gamma rays, Plait wants to destroy our atmosphere. If Pogge wants to find a planet in the habitable zone of a main sequence star, Plait wants to see what happens if you nudge the planet in just a little closer, and, oh, what the hell, make it a red supergiant.

My favorite chapter was the last one, where Plait tries to give a sense of deep time, an unimaginably remote point in the future when the matter in the universe becomes so diffuse, when all the protons have decayed, and the universe is almost perfectly cold. It is the temporal equivalent to the opening of that wholly remarkable book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe: "Space is big. Really big, You just won't believe how vastly hugely mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space. Listen..." Unfortunately, my little lizard brain has a hard time processing the depths of deep time, so we must resort to insane concepts like 10^1000 years: eons upon eons to the power of eons!

Oh, happy 2010, Eastern Time Zone.

Actually, my favorite bits were the scenarios he sketches out at the beginning of each chapter. That's what I'm talking about. For instance, his description of a black hole deforming the solar system as it hurtles toward us is majestically horrifying! Little details, like the extra shadows as an earth-sterilizing asteroid collides with the atmosphere, much to the chagrin of humanity, who was using the atmosphere at the time. There were kernels of decent sci-fi stories in those scenarios, and if I were to do a movie adaptation, that's what I would focus on. Maybe I'd do it like Pulp Fiction...a bunch of apocalypses (there is a plural for that word, Buffy fans!) that intersect and come together at the end. With lots of swearing.

I think that the ultimate message from Plait is: "Smile! We're all screwed!" This makes sense to me.

My next book is Around in Circles, about the crop circle phenomenon. It's supposed to be really good.

HJ

Why must Michael Jackson die while Rush Limbaugh yet lives?

Luckily, the celebrity massacre that was 2009 continues for about 7 hours longer in Hawaii! Turns out the heartless bastard has a pumpy organ after all.

Clog! Clog! Clog! Clog! Clog! Clog!

How did he feel anything through the Vicodin haze?

HJ

We're Pudgy Guy Ghost Investigators, We're Here to (belch) buh-Pork Grease

I am so mad at the Discovery Channel. I'm watching these fat white assholes eat their way across America with their pudgy friends and their mustachioed blonde. Currently, they are revisiting Tombstone--revisiting in the sense that other ghost hunting groups have already embarrassed themselves there. Of course, the evidence collected is not consistent across TV shows. Whoops.

It seems to me that in order to be on Ghost Lab, you need to be a big guy with a beard; in order to get out of the truck, however, you need to be white. I mean, at least they have some minority hires, but they don't get to do anything.

I wonder if Mike Rowe feels dirtier doing the voice-over for these idiots...true idiots in every sense of the word--seriously, I'd love to give them a high school physics exam--or if he feels dirtier in a sewer with his hand up a cow's ass. Of course, he does the voice-over for Ghost Hunters.

Idiots.

HJ

Update: Hi, JREFers. If you are interested in hearing JREF board member Lucian's voice, I visited the Creation Museum with her last week and made a podcast. For this site, I have dubbed her Animala (part girl part four different types of forest animal!), but it's pure Lucian.

A letter to my nephew...

Dear Shane,

What's wrong with you? I know that you are 4-years old, and 4-year olds do lots of stupid shit. Take me, for instance. I once went into the kitchen cabinet and ate an entire bottle of Flintstones vitamins with the girl who lived across the street. (I'm sure she urged me on. Don't trust girls.) Your dad once stuck an eraser so high up his nose that he had to come home from camp.


He was 8, however, so considering your genetic inheritance, your current situation seems to be at least partially hereditary.

I hear that you are now listening to Rihanna songs. Let me give you a full explanation of the dangerously stupid forces you are dealing with, Shane. I am going to share with you a post that I wrote on June 2 of 2008, when you were only three, and, can you believe it, even dumber! It's called, "Rihanna Needs a Fucking Hearing Aid":

---

You know, I thought that Fergie had recorded the goofiest song, "London Bridge." But no, I think Rihanna may have beaten her with an enhanced form of silly, and not just her name. I'm talking about the endlessly irritating song, "Pon De Replay." I have no idea what a "pon" is. I have heard of a tampon, a mysterious wand of freshness whose workings no man was meant to understand. I know what Pong is: awful. I heard this song for the first time today and searched by "Come Mr DJ," and, quite frankly, I thought that the first couple dozen hits that were returned were typos. Then I realized that was statistically impossible. The song is apparently written in some long lost creole.

Come Mr. DJ song pon de replay
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up
All the gyal pon the dancefloor wantin some more what
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up

Well, we're off to a nightmare. I am trying to decipher what is a "pon de." I thought it might be a contraction of "put on the." But song...pon...de ... what language is this? And "wantin some more what?" Well, what? Which what do you want, you precious inarticulate thing?

it goes 1 by 1 even 2 by 2

Pronoun references are things that other people do, right Rihanna? I'm about to get all 2-by-4 on your ass. Or, in words you'll understand, "walkdark pon de lumberpunch."

everybody on the floor let me show you how we do
lets go dip...

Wait, wait, wait! Do WHAT? How you do what? Not finish sentences?!? I'm sorry, but this hurts me. Alright, let's continue.

lets go dip it low then you bring it up slow
wind it up 1 time wind it back once more

Ah, a riddle! What can you wind twice that you may dip, Grasshopper?

Run, Run, Run, Run

"Someone's got a gun!"

Everybody move run
Lemme see you move and
Rock it til the grooves done

Are you dancing or running? Rihanna? How's the DJ gonna turn it up if he's running. Just saying.

Shake it til the moon becomes the sun (Sun)

Ah, now we're talking my language: astronomy! Yay. There is a sense in which this is not completely and totally inept use of metonymy, if metonymy means what I think it does. The sun is in its prime, shining away all happy, but because it is not interesting, er, massive enough to go supernova, in its dotage, the sun is going to swell into a red giant, the diameter of which will be larger than the orbit of Mars. At that point, Earth is going to be inside the orbit, and will collide with the particles inside the sun, slow down and fall into its center. This will also happen to the moon, and so the moon will become the sun. So, Rihanna is basically commanding...someone...to shake it for approximately 7.5 billion years. Good luck with that.

Everybody in the club give me a run (Run)

Quick! Snag her pantyhose! Rihanna has commanded it!

If you ready to move say it (Yeah Yeah)

No! Say, "It!"

One time for your mind say it (Yeah Yeah)

"Is it a code?"

Well i'm ready for ya
Come let me show ya
You want to groove im'a show you how to move
Come come

I like how she can just drop Ibo words into the middle of a sentence and still land a major record deal.

[Hook x2:]
Come Mr. DJ song pon de replay
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up
All the gyal pon the dancefloor wantin some more what
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up

[B-Sec x2:]
Hey Mr.
Please Mr. DJ
Tell me if you hear me
Turn the music up

This is the point that I realized that something was wrong with her. She has now asked for the DJ to turn the music up, by my count, 8 times. She also has asked the DJ if he can hear him twice. It seems to me that there is a good chance that the DJ can't hear her because the music is so loud at this point, and she still has a hard time hearing it. I think that maybe Rihanna has ruptured her eardrums, and should have her ears tested by a licensed audiologist. I did that once last year. The wife of one of my friends was training to be a speech pathologist and was giving free ear exams. I found out that I am partially deaf in my left ear (I can't hear high tones). On a sort of related note, yesterday the guy who put tubes in my ears when I was in 1st grade died. I don't remember the tubes being put in, but I remember him putting me on my back in his office and reaching in and unsuccessfully trying to pry them out of my head without anesthesia. I have mixed feelings about what happened.

[Verse 2:]
It goes 1 by 1 even 2 by 2

Wait a sec...this is verse one!

Everybody in the club gon be rockin when i'm through
Let the bass from the speakers run through ya sneakers
Move both ya feet and run to the beat

Are we running in place? This isn't a dance club. This is Jazzercizing! I expect that Richard Simmons is going to come flouncing out and say, "C'mon girls! Keep it up!"

Then she commands us to shake our butts for another 7.5 billion years (please not to this fucking song, Rihanna!), and then reiterates her inability to hear the music 6 more times:

[Hook x2:]
Come Mr. DJ song pon de replay
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up
All the gyal pon the dancefloor wantin some more what
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up

[B-Sec x2:]
Hey Mr.
Please Mr. DJ
Tell me if you hear me
Turn the music up

I have a feeling we are in the home stretch....

[x4]
Okay everybody get down if you feel me
Put your hands up to the ceiling

Now, if I have gotten down, home can I put my hands up on the ceiling? Your Sisyphean groove is cruel and, by my calculation, now officially lasts longer than the current age of the universe.

[Hook x2:]
Come Mr. DJ song pon de replay
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up
All the gyal pon the dancefloor wantin some more what
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up

I don't know why you are saying "Mr. DJ." Chances are the DJ is some pimply high schooler making minimum wage for some mobile DJ service. Take it from me, a former pimply high schooler making minimum wage for some mobile DJ service, if he has to hear your damned refrain one more time...well, you know how prom ends in Carrie, right?


I still have the dang song in my head, however.

---

So, you see, Shane, Rihanna is a fucking idiot. Stop it. Stop it now, or I'm going to come back to St. Louis and take your GeoTrack toys away.

There, that should take care of it.

HJ

Season's Greetings...From Saturn!

Seriously, have you checked out the CICLOPS website? It collects images from the ongoing Cassini mission at Saturn. There is one shot of Enceladus which should be on your desktop. I'm just saying. If I remember correctly, those jets streaming away from the moon have a high water concentration, indicating...well, freaking liquid water! There might be as many twice the volume of earth's oceans worth of water underneath the surface there. Amazing stuff, that!

I tell you, astronomy is where art and science collide. At extremely high velocity, streaming high-energy particles that would sterilize earth without our atmosphere and magnetic field.

HJ

Update: I think the link is fixed

Just go visit Skeptico...

I mean, seriously, why do you even bother to come to my website?

HJ

Photos from the Creation Museum...

And here you go, the images that I took at the Creation Museum. Animala may share some photos with me, and they could go up later. I already posted my audio collage of my visit and a conversation with Animala after the tour.

The tour begins with a number of false dichotomies, wherein all knowledge is divided between "human reason" (including science, experiment and the scientific method) and "God's Word."

Now, while you might think that this is infantile, you're right, it totally is. But not only is their science bad, but let's say that the Bible was dictated by God to the prophets--then their theology sucks too! According to this formulation of the "truth," humans can't even recognize what is factually correct without the Bible, including whether or not they are hungry. And look at that last sentence...Does anyone else detect an overgeneralization walking toward us with undeserved confidence?

Of course, they make it clear throughout that this particular brand of idiot Christian is being persecuted (no, just being identified as idiots) and the Word of God (gasp) criticized(!?!) for espousing total crap like genocide, slavery and other fun stuff that we are better off without.

The worst thing that we saw was a display that suggests that black people are cursed. Notice this illustration of post-Babel dispersion:


Look where the decedents of Ham, who are cursed for seeing Noah's nakedness, are going:

Guess who lives in Africa? Black people. Therefore: black people carry the curse of Ham in their pigmentation. This, of course, was used as a biblical rationalization for chattel slavery of black Africans for generations, and the Creation Museum, right across town from the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center, continues to perpetuate this unsubstantiated, non-biblical and racist heritage. You make me vomit, Ken Ham. I wish there were a hell; you would sure be in it. And you have the balls to sell "Darwin's Plantation" in the bookstore? You are beneath contempt, you nauseating hypocrite.

Of course, there is no doubt who the Creation Museum targets--kids. The dinosaurs are a lure. Kids love big scary monsters, and the museum gives it to them in droves.

You only need to listen to the background of my podcast to hear how many hundreds of children were there. And what are they teaching them? Blatant falsehoods:


No person with a passing understanding of archaeology could possibly mistake the Bible for a history book. The book is full of out-and-out contradictions, falsehoods, and talking fucking snakes. Talking snakes, assholes. Where is that in the archaeological record?

After the fall, man said, "Let their be graffiti. And he saw
it was bad, and he said, 'Whatever.'" Seriously, this is
what they use to symbolize the fallen modern
world--a sort of fake dirty alley.

Osama bin Laden gives us a copy of the Torah, while Mel Brooks brings us the
15 commandments.

For that matter, where are the Mesopotamian Penguins in the archaeological record? Idiots.


I went home with you?!

And we did WHAT?!


If you look in the pool, you will see that people have
been flicking pennies at Eve's ass. I'm not joking.



Here you go. The shittiest picture ever taken.

These bozos call this an egg and then dare criticize the Lucy find for being incomplete? Pick and choose much?

I ask you: What "farm animal activities" are Christians participating in? Are they like reindeer games?

Near the end of the tour, as I waited 90 seconds for this photo
to be emailed to myself, I heard two adult Christians say
they wanted to ride the dinosaur. And yet they yelled
at PZ for doing it. Also, it has a fucking saddle. A fucking saddle.
Don't tell me it's "just for kids," you disingenuous ass, Ken Ham.

Beowulf will kill you if you do not buy shit from Ken Ham.

OH SHIT! SAVE US, BEOWULF!! IT'S GRENDEL!! Or at least it is according to Bill Cooper, whose crappy book the CM sells in the bookstore. That reminds me--they also are selling Ray Comfort's Origin, which I remember being handed out a few weeks ago. What they'll give to atheists, Ken sells to Christians. Tell me this is NOT a scam.

And they are selling the completely useless Jonathan Park Cult
Adventure Series. (For my review of an episode, listen to my previous podcast.)

There you have it. The worst "museum" ever. It is not evangelical in the least: it is clearly designed for those people who already believe. It is a feeble scam perpetrated against Christians.

HJ

Russia to pretend to save the world!

Did you see this?

Russia may send spacecraft to knock away asteroid

[AP] MOSCOW – Russia is considering sending a spacecraft to a large asteroid to knock it off its path and prevent its collision with Earth — a collision NASA considers highly unlikely — the head of the country's space agency said Wednesday.

How unlikely? NASA gives it a 1/250,000 chance of hitting us. But Russia is filling its collective diaper with cabbage-colored urine:

"People's lives are at stake. We should pay several hundred million dollars and build a system that would allow to prevent a collision, rather than sit and wait for it to happen and kill hundreds of thousands of people," [head of the Russian Space Agency] Perminov said.

NASA says that if it were to hit, it would explode release about 4.5 times the energy of Krakatoa. Cool!

Without mentioning NASA conclusions, Perminov said that he heard from a scientist that Apophis is getting closer and may hit the planet. "I don't remember exactly, but it seems to me it could hit the Earth by 2032," Perminov said.

You don't remember exactly? That's as prepared as you could bother to be? Nice. Stalin would not have put up with this shit.

Now, there are some risks, I imagine. What might futzing with the orbit of an asteroid do to its trajectory? Could it move us into danger? I mean, the sumbitch is well within the orbit of the moon, but it's already known to pose no real threat in its current orbit, right? Now, you could say that, well, it gives is a chance to test models about asteroid deflection, but I would say that while that is true, why futz with one that is actually sort of close? That should be tested on one with an orbit that does not intersect with the earth's orbit. This way, if we fuck up the test, say, the rockets of the asteroid-orbiting gravity-tow vehicle don't fire, we don't inadvertently tow the sucker into Thailand. (I got your back, Thailand!)

I think that there is legit science that could be done here without resorting to sensationalism and futzing with a near-earth asteroid. That's useful, and Russia could chalk that one up legitimately. I hope that a measure of skepticism finds its way into the Russian national debate.

HJ

A Special HJHOP Podcast: A Visit to the Creation Museum

I had a phenomenal turnaround time editing the several hours of audio I grabbed, I would like to add. What a weird place!



Or you can download the podcast. Enjoy!

Now, if you will excuse me, I think that my bathtub is coming through the ceiling of my kitchen. I'm not joking.

HJ

Update: Clearly the wrath of ceiling cat. Shower head broke off inside the wall. As long as we never bathe, we're cool.

I'm back in Atlanta...

And, boy, do I have tales to tell! I am putting together a podcast with the audio I grabbed at the Creation Museum yesterday, but to hold you over, I am including here a photo I like to call "There Can Be Only One":

"Take that, Abel, you little bitch!"

HJ

I leave in the morning...

What wonders await me, dare I wonder?

It's been a good break. I have 6 hours until I reach Cincinnati. Animala is here in St. Louis, pilling her cat. I mean, she's not here to pill her cat, of course, only that that happens to be what she is doing right now. Seriously, think these things through, people.

ABC is playing The Sound of Music right now. I have theory that this little movie, which is pretty and annoying in equal parts, has become a Christmas staple in recent years because of a line in the song "My Favorite Things": "[a whole bunch of goofy shit...]/brown paper packages tied up with string,/ these are a few of my favorite things." They are singing about mail. "I like getting shit in the mail. Not actual shit, of course. Start thinking, people." Is it me, or did we at some point collectively decide that they were singing about Christmas presents. Staggeringly unfestive Christmas presents. Just thought I'd point that out.

Oh, I have a picture of myself skipping through the trellis in Salzburg they filmed at. I'll take a picture of myself skipping in front of Eation-Cray Useum-May.

It's going to be an early morning, so I best get to bed.

HJ

Gift certificates are wonderful things....

You can take a gift certificate and turn it into almost anything. Take for instance, this:



Nifty, no? So, that's what my git-fiddle will be doin' in few days when I catch up with it.

And this:



All this technology and no way to fiddle with it! Agony. Actually that's not true. I was at the Guitar Center today, futzing around for about an hour. I played a Gibson Les Paul Studio on a Vox AC30 and almost died in a jizzplosion.

I sat in front of their wall-of-pedal and tried to put some sounds to names. Flange is as goofy as the word, but I guess in the right hands it would sound OK. Actually, something that was really interesting was mixing the Boss Octave pedal with the Phase Shifter and a little delay. I'm sure the people there loved me. I try to show restraint, except that I am a complete spazz.

Animala comes to pick me up tomorrow, actually with a layover for the night here in St. Louis, so the day after tomorrow, we set out for the Creation Museum. Heheh. Oh, I'm sure there's a point where irony becomes too expensive, but I haven't reached it yet.

HJ

Not a bad night

Kids love Christmas, and I know why. They get all the damned loot. Seriously, we spoiled those little fuckers rotten tonight, and we'd do it again.

I got the required gift cards for clothing, movies and books, which is always nice. I did come into a new guitar pedal, a Digitech Whammy (yay!). I can't wait to hear what it can do! Only, like, five more days.

I spent a good part of my time today putting together a couple of train sets for my nephews and niece. They aren't real train sets. They are like what would happen if a traditional electric train set had sex with a Hot Wheels rubber track. That's the best way to describe it. It doesn't ride the rails so much as climb them rung by rung. Hard to explain, but the kids liked them.

The kids got a telescope from me. It's a little $15 job, but it is good for them. I made my brother promise that they would not take it out during the day (you can do some horrid shit to your eyes if you stare into a magnified sun). I think that they liked it, even if they are a little bewildered by the scientific instrument.

I have so much to do tomorrow, and I can't bring myself to be excited about it. I have clothes to buy, shoes to exchange, all sorts of things to do that have to be done in St. Louis. I hope there is a spare car around for me to use.

Ah, so that's Christmas 2009. Need to sleep.

HJ

News Flash: Atheist does not attempt to bomb plane.

Sigh.

Merry Christmas!

HJ

A very "meta" meme: A year of HJHOP

Inspired by Dr. Isis, I thought that I would include a snippet from my first post of each month of 2009. Seems harmless enough, right?

January 1, "Answers in Genesis: 'We fail to be relevant! We win!"

Here I am discussing the Answers in Genesis contest, where you can earn real cash money by coming out and admitting that the paper you published in the Answers Research Journal was a joke. In one post, they indirectly refer to HJHOP's efforts, but those piglickers will never give me a link.

While they only mention one paper that came through this site, many bogus papers have actually made it into the ARJ. I can without fear of contradiction say that Desmond P. Allen's "An Apology and Unification Theory for the Reconciliation of Physical Matter and Metaphysical Cognizance" is a joke paper, and all Desmond has to do is come out and admit that he was messing with AiG to win the prize! I mean, look at his conclusion:

"Therefore, our physical universe is essentially a holographic image empowered by the Spirit of God. God exists aside from our temporal material paradigm, of which He is the light, the ultimate source of energy. Here there exists a certain entanglement between the quantum state and the Spirit of God."

And I don't see the promised apology anywhere, and I deserve one for reading that twaddle. It's just Latinate baby babble all the way through. Just contact me at HJHOP, Dessie, and admit that it was made up! Free money!

February 2, "Someone else's kid has an ouchie ear...How is this my problem?"

Half-time shows, pre-game ceremonies, opening ceremonies...they are always just tacky. The Super Bowl is worse than the Olympics because it is geared to trailer folk. Faith Hill singing the extra bonus American anthem? Yuk! That asshole who couldn't miss a flock of birds with an airplane? What the fuck are you doing there? I could crash a plane too, but they won't give me Super Bowl tickets for it. You just happened to crash it with style! What the fuck was Petraeus doing there? That motherfucker has some work to do. He better not have been on the fucking clock. And a lot of people would resent a general "representing the common soldier" who was getting shit on in Afghanistan: "Thanks a lot, General! You enjoy that Super Bowl for me. I gotta kill some kids with bombs strapped on them, but send me a souvenir program or something! BLAM BLAM!!" The most disgusting thing was the girl who sang the national anthem (and not just the overwrought eternal fluttering that singers who can't hit a solid note and stay on it pass off as "style")--she was the one whose family was massacred, right? I guess everything worked out for the best, then. I told my family that I hoped they would be massacred so I could be on the TeeVee. They weren't amused for some reason.

March 1, "Bing is out of the office right now..."

Please leave your personal message after the beep....

BEEP!

April 1, "Here's one for the books"

At this point, still on the job hunt (a lifetime ago!), I found that I had been invited down to a school I did not want to consider working at.

I hesitated for a second when I wrote the letter declining a visit. I considered calling my family, who might have to help support me next year if jobs don't seem to be coming my way, but, no, I had to make this decision. This was too important. I hit send, closed the door to my office and hyperventilated a bit with my head in my hands. Only once I got my shit together did I call my parents. My father, who is desperately eager to see me succeed, or at least see me get not only off of but away from the dole, said it was fine. When he heard about the job last week, he said it sounded like high school, which was exactly I did not want to teach when I got into graduate school.

May 1, "Biggest Douche Ever?"

Even the Scientologists wouldn't want a self-congratulating wanker like this.

June 1, "Center for Bioethic Reform: Of all pro-life movements, they are perhaps the least literate"

"Nobody will infringe upon your right to remain icky fetus fetishists. Also, I would recommend that you invest in a dictionotomy."

July 1, "Let's see, Wednesday...Yep! Ken Ham's day to piss me off!"

But first, my class and I were discussing "writing reviews" today. I was in freestyle mode today, just bouncing along with the discussion. At some point we got onto the subject of album covers and evaluating them against one another. Well, on the overhead projector, I brought up the cover art for Dark Side of the Moon. One girl in the back said, "Oh, I saw that on a t-shirt!"

"Yeah, but you did know that it was an album cover first, right?"

Thunk. <-- That's my head hitting my desk

Aug 1 (actually, July 30, as close as I could get)"Scenes from a move..."

Animala: I hate you.
Bing: You are moving to Atlanta with me. You can't possibly hate me.
Animala: I hate myself more.
Bing: I hate you.

Sept 1, "How is Jason Hawes like his wife?"

He's faking it too.

Oct 1, "To David Barton and Brannon Howse: Put Up or Shut Up"

Alright, Professor Pigshit. Two can play at that game. I heard from a very credible source that David Barton knows that he's full of shit, that he doesn't mean a word of what he's saying and that--and this is coming from not just any credible source, mind you, but a very credible source--David Barton is in fact a liberal plant spouting inanities so that conservatives will look bad when they believe him. Really.

Seriously. I just presented the same amount of evidence that he did. You can say some pretty extravagant shit when you don't have to worry about evidence and backing what you are saying up.

FUCK! I felt dirty just saying that. How do you paranoid fucks do this day in and day out and not claw off your own skin to distract yourself from the crushing guilt you should be feeling?

Nov 1, "The gods have taken the daylight! How shall we convince them to give it back?!"

I understand the whole "daylight savings time thing," more or less, but I have an atomic internal clock, and when the clock springs forward in April, I will only just have gotten used to the extra hour. It totally messes with my brain.

Dec 1, "I have totally found my new crack..."

Ironically, it is a show on A&E called Intervention.

Here's the plot: someone has an intervention.

Fucking brilliant. You spend 45 minutes illustrating what a great life has been lost, spend two minutes having an emotional enema with your family, then you jump past all that unpleasant detoxing and get the completely reformed person, like, after a commercial. Then the screen fades to black, they start playing an acoustic guitar, and they tell you that the person, who just promised that now they are going to be there for their kids, has relapsed. Oh, it's fucking beautiful. It's like life, death and rebirth--and then death again! Someone get me a cognac!

HJ

Answers Research Journal: The gift that keeps on giving...me piles

An interesting, no that's not the word... hilarious paper appeared in the "Answers" "Research" "Journal" tonight. (Seriously, I thought Christians opposed all forms of masturbation.) It is called, "Fraud and Forgery in Paleoanthropology," and it plopped at the heels of Jerry Bergman.

A review of the history of paleoanthropology leads to the conclusion that the discipline is far less objective than that for physics, chemistry, or even biology. The field is rife with controversy and fraud, including outright faking. Classic examples include Piltdown man andHesperopithecus, but many other less well-known examples exist that are reviewed in this paper. Several well-documented examples are cited in some detail to illustrate the types of problems encountered, and the results of fraud in paleoanthropology.

Biology is subjective? Whatevs.

The article documents a series of frauds perpetrated by fraudsters, none of whom any self-respecting person would consider a responsible scientist, but Bergman lumps all paleoanthropologists in with these deviants. It's guilt by association, without once recognizing 1) that in each of these cases it was as scientist, not a creationist, who discovered and corrected for the fraud, 2) that the vast majority of scientists working in these fields are honestly trying to decipher the past using the best tools at their disposal, or 3) that even when they disagree with each other, they all agree that the creationist "model" (notice the slogan of the ARJ is "Building the Creation Model", not "extrapolating from the creation model and testing predictions and being honest about the conclusions") is thoroughly inadequate.

Another thing that Bergman fails to do is to at all illuminate what has not been faked, that is, the majority of all work in the field ever. He does not illuminate what is agreed upon, and leaves the ignorant reader (ARJ's reader) with the false impression that there is no consensus on anything, which happens to be a fetid load of dingos' kidneys.

He seems to misunderstand the word "contentious," as in, "Paleoanthropology is especially a contentious field," to mean "fraudulent from top to bottom." Take the following assertion:

Sides are taken in these conflicts, and, as Morell (1995) eloquently demonstrates, the participants sometimes end up in altercations not unlike those fought between nations—whereas unethical behavior (and almost everything else) is fair game. Only physical aggression is normally ruled out (though it sometimes occurs).

So. The. Fuck. What. This entire piece is an assault on the messenger, not an evaluation of the evidence. Even if every single paleoanthropologist who ever walked this planet was a dog-fighting child molester, you still have to contend with the layering of finds in the geological strata, the predictability with which certain fossils are found only in certain strata, radiometric dating (part of that more "objective" field, physics), the cumulative weight of genetics, the universality of the ATP/ADP cycle, all the other things that illustrate beyond a shadow of any doubt that all life stems from a common ancestor and that evolution happens on scales that our little lizard brains are not wired to deal with.

There is a wonderful little passage where he unironically bitches about how creationists do not have access to human fossils. You aren't qualified, especially when you yourself say:

these fossils are often fragile and easily broken, working with them tends to damage them

Why would we ever allow someone whose hypothesis was utterly demolished and who was unable to learn from that experience to handle these precious objects? To what possible gain?

And you have the gall to dare say that:

Most anthropologists must rely on descriptions and interpretations produced by the discoverer of the fossils—the very person who has a vested interest in proving his or her own theories.

You put the "ass" in "assumption." You also put the "idiot" in "hypocrite"! This would mean boo only if every single paleoanthropologist was working only to prove their own theory instead of trying to get to the truth. And again, the stuff you leave out, and I'll assume your dishonesty is at least proportional to your ignorance (seriously, it's as close to a compliment as you are going to get from me), like some of the fossils that we have are really quite complete, totally belie your own fudging of the data here. How could anyone take you seriously? Take this failure of reason (actually, two unconnected sentences):

"The problem is that there are simply too few specimens, spread out over too large a geographic area, to make these decisions with any confidence. New finds and revisions of old conclusions occur constantly (Coyne 2009, p 197)."

First of all, the two sentences are not related. Because Coyne's book is called Why Evolution is True, I'll assume that it is not exactly a bulwark of creationist literature. And Bergman fails to recognize that this is the strength of science, not a liability. Contrast it to the failed creation hypothesis...fuck, it's not even a hypothesis. I'm sorry, Bergman, but this was feeble.

HJ

Christmas thoughts from the Wackosphere

[The Princess and the Frog] is set in Louisiana, though, so of course there is a voodoo practicing witch doctor, one Doctor Facilier, who summons the dead, uses tarot cards and spells and has shadow creatures do his bidding. At least this frightening person is the "bad" guy, and his practices are easily equated with danger and evil. But, of course Jesus isn't the hero who saves the main characters from this vile person. Disney never seems to make Jesus the hero.

"Tiny Tim still says, "God bless us every one," at the end, but Scrooge is not saved in the end by falling on his knees before the Son of God whose birth is celebrated at Christmas. No, he's saved by honoring the spirit of Christmas, which apparently is all about generosity and loving one's neighbor. Those things are fine and we appreciate that Scrooge has repented this year (as he has every year since 1843), but it's always disappointing that Scrooge in the end depends on his works and not on the Savior for his salvation."
--Chuck Missler, "The Occult and Holiday Eye Candy," at Bible Prophecy Today

You know, it seems to me that Chucky is doing something akin to bitching about how there were not enough space aliens in Little House on the Prairie.

"'Tis the week before Christmas and all through the land, not a freedom is safe from Obama's hand. Bankers, bewildered, before him now bow, while auto-makers, thankful, praise his cash cow. With energy and health care nearing control, his grasp on the nation is as he foretold. The people are stirred by his escapades, and are somewhat shocked by the history they made. Obama is not what he promised to be; he brings, instead, tyranny."

Unhinged Nut Henry Lamb, on Wackjob Weekend, "Tis the Week Before Christmas"

And then, Michael Medved, who spends a lot of his Jewish time defending Christians. (I looked for his conversion on Wikipedia, but did not find it.)

"During the festive holiday season, it’s become common to criticize the commercialization of Christmas. Cynics suggest that there’s something unseemly and shallow about so many Americans running around frantically and spending huge sums to purchase gifts that the recipients may not even welcome. From a deeper perspective, however, the surge of commercial activity in the Christmas season strengthens the connections of inter-dependence and mutual reward that make community possible."

--Michael Medved, Jewish person?

There. Wasn't that depressing? To make up for it, how about an amazing picture of planetary systems forming in the Orion Nebula?

HJ

Jesse Ventura surrenders all honor...

Seriously, the man has sold his honor for...what, exactly?

I have been looking at his goofy show Conspiracy Theory, where he nods vigorously whenever an idiot speaks. Take his interview with George Hunt. Couldn't be a more unhinged loon if you tried to build one from scratch. His sentences are joined together by a logic that exists only in his head, in much the same way all world events are connected by a "global aristocracy," who are somehow using fear of environmental degradation to take over the world. We will surrender our freedoms to bankers, somehow. International bankers. That is, Jews. Ventura seems not to make this connection, that the Rothschild family, target of this conspiracy theory, the embodiment of the international Jew banker, is vomited up constantly.Indeed, the Rothschilds have been blamed for everything, including the Civil War! How many variations on the same racist theme must we hear?

I am now boycotting A&E for crimes against intelligence.

HJ

Post #2844: Like post 2843, but more so...

I am an evil wicked, bad, and awfully naughty person at Christmas time. That's all I can say. But I'm clever and subtle about it. I look like I am spreading mirth, but I'm totally fucking up the universe.

I made it through the throngs of last minute shoppers and clearly decided to settle when it came to Christmas presents this year. My arsenal of good cheer includes positively lethal doses of toys, some electronics, movies or the means to acquire movies, video games, books, all sorts of shit.

But let's hear it for gift certificates, eh wot? Lifesavers when it comes to last minute gift-giving.

Anyhow, I have just ordered the penultimate present on my list. There is only one more to buy at some point in the morning tomorrow, and then I am done.

By the way, can you believe the number of posts I have put together. I mean, sure, about half of them are little things wherein I share some strange video or something. You know, like this:



Haha! Fucking Republicans. He actually says, "gummint." (Talk about undeserved charity-- mom and dad are too nice to that guy.)

It's time to get some other writing done.

HJ

Holiday shopping

NOOOO! I forgot to get presents for, like, everyone. Someone hold my jacket. I'm going into the mall. If I don't come back, tell my kids that they exist.

HJ

Shadow puppet liberation NOW

Someone sent me the following call for papers. It love it for its...thingness. I can't even find a word that means quaint, generating a staggering personal disinterest and yet absolutely fascinating. It tears me in two.

And now I weep.

The Magic Lantern Society of the United States and Canada invites scholars to submit papers or proposals for papers pertaining to the lantern to the conference organizers, Professor Joss Marsh and Mr. David Francis (Indiana University, Bloomington). (Papers in research sessions will be held to 20 minutes in length.) Deadline 15th February 2010.

Presentations will be especially welcome that address the key theme of the Convention:

“The Magic Lantern and Victorian Culture.”

Topics might include (but are not limited to): advertising with the lantern/advertising the lantern; lantern-slide manufacturers and distributers; exhibition practices; individual and itinerant lanternists; multi-media lantern shows and lantern use; the lantern and nineteenth-century theatre, opera, and ballet; the lantern and Music Hall/Variety shows; local lantern shows; the missionary lantern; the Temperance lantern; the lantern and social change; urban and social lantern investigation; the psychology and theory of 19th–century lantern spectatorship; the lantern and science; educational uses of the lantern; lantern-assisted virtual travel; the lantern and horror; literary reflections of the lantern; lantern performance of literature; the lantern and childhood; the lantern and cinema; lantern-inspired early films; lantern-slide use in movie theatres; animated slides and lantern representation of movement; the magic lantern and the long history of the “screen experience”; lantern song-slides; lantern humour; the lantern and Empire; lantern story-telling and lantern readings; and the Victorian family lantern.

I hate to turn this into a moral lesson or anything, but if you are lonely or isolated, I'm pretty sure it is your own fault because there is a professional organization for anyone.

What would your paper look like? Me? I'd do mine on shadow puppets, and how they one day will rise up against their masters and shatter the lanterns, freeing themselves from their spotlight prisons so that they may roam freely in shadows and rule the world.

HJ

I like the part about the anus...

So, get through a whole day without any disturbing shit? Well, it's over. This would be great on drugs. It is, in fact, the Star Wars Christmas of public service announcements. My recommendation, watch the first 3 minutes of section two:



Then go back to section one and see who all got involved with this. I, honestly, could not get through two of four. It's a good idea badly executed. (Can you spot white James Earl Jones?)

Hi, White James Earl Jones! "You are not Akeem!"

HJ

Live by the idiot, die by the idiot, Allah be praised.

Ali Hussain Sibat is fucked.

He's a Lebanese TV psychic, with all the street cred of an American psychic, as best I can tell (none at all), who has been sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia for practicing witchcraft. Allah be praised.

The only thing dumber than an impotent fake like Ali Hussain Sibat is a potent religious police force like that of Saudi Arabia. I don't think that fortune tellers should be killed, only mocked, discredited and exposed. Some of them need psychiatric treatment. But the living, pulsing asshole of Islam, Saudi Arabia, has decided that it will legitimize fakery by prosecuting it as if it were real.

According to NPR, and as there often is during witch scares, there is an apparent political underpinning in the rise of persecutions of so-called witches:

In the past few years, the government has tried to curb the influence of the religious establishment by sacking key religious figures, pushing for reform in the courts and criticizing the religious police. [...]

But now that they are under pressure, the religious police are trying to flex their muscles in the few ways they still can, including looking for people who practice magic or who don't pray five times a day, and for women who don't properly cover their hair, [Saudi political analyst Tawfiq al-] Saif says.

This is compounded by the problem that Saudi Arabia does not have a law that defines sorcery. Essentially, Saudi religious police have the right to arrest anyone for any reason and charge them with sorcery. You make a prediction that by chance becomes true, BANG, your head rolls.

Allah be praised.

Saudi Arabia is truly the butthole of the world, a place where legal savagery is commonplace. Just the other day, for instance, they publically beheaded a convicted kidnapper and rapist and then crucified the fucking corpse. I mean, seriously. I mean, the executed does not care, but still, I don't see how acting like Jack the Ripper is ever a sign of a thoughtful justice system.

Here's an interview with a Saudi executioner. I am entitling it: "I had nightmares, but only once. Then I got used to it, Allah be praised."

This whole clip is like some sort of psychotic performance art.

Did you notice this line? "The executioner Abdallah al-Bishi will be joining us shortly. He is delayed because he is busy carrying out an execution." Or, "Yes, I have beheaded many people who were my friends."

Allah be praised.

One of the people participating in this story, declares that executions are "decreed by Allah" in the Koran. This naive and fatuous reading of medieval a text is in every way similar to the babyish reading of the Bible put forward by the people at Answers in Genesis, who say that the creation story is an "eyewitness account." When you start taking cranky deities at their word, you set yourself up to become an inhuman, moral monster: "If the heart is compassionate, the hand fails." Allah be praised.

I will say, I have no idea how accurate the translation here is, but the guy with the stupid hat was waving a sword around. If someone speaks Arabic (I presume), lemme know how accurate the translation is. And I realize I have wandered into deep, uneasy waters here, as you can see in the comments beneath the YouTube clip. It only the indignity of the functionally illiterate that made me question whether or not the clip was authentic--but again, sword waving at home. Nonetheless, in the absence of any evidence other than the words they use to signify "abomination," which this twisted fuck has clearly become, I wonder whether our friends in the comments are willing to show more compassion.

"this bastard should be tortured and then killed painfully..."

"I hate all religion... but I really hate islam, and I hate Saudi Arabia even more. I wish everybody in that country would just die somehow. Ridding the planet of their horrible culture."

Mr Pot, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Kettle.

And let's not mistake here the religion for the state structure that authorizes and enables this bullshit, by (presumably) paying this guy's salary. There are people in power who can stop this but decide not to, and they are every bit as culpable for this degredation as those who carry it out.

unhappyJ

What day is it?

I left Atlanta at about 7:00AM, heading out with Animala to find the Northwest Passage or St. Louis, whichever I came across first. Turns out it was St. Louis, but only after about 7 hours of mind-dulling driving. Actually, I had a pretty good distraction. The last time I made the trip, I listened to the audio version of The Men Who Stare at Goats, and that worked very well keeping me alert and entertained. Last night, I downloaded the podcasts of a course on astrobiology from Ohio State. The instructor's name is Richard Pogge. The course is out there on the web, presumably on purpose, and Pogge gives good lecture. He has a couple of astronomy classes, and I listened to his lectures on the outer solar system (the ice giants, Saturn's rings and comets) during my move down to Atlanta, I think. He starts by talking about a series of intellectual/scientific/cultural revolutions that had to occur before addressing the question of life on other planets could be considered legitimate, and he sets up the scientific paradigms by which life on earth will be understood--the only observable model that we have of life developing in the universe. I have encountered most of what he discusses at some point during my career as an astronomy aficionado and science enthusiast, but it is immensely rewarding and to see these topics brought together so well.

Anyway, I arrived in St. Louis about as bushed as I can be. I had not slept well last night and then, BAM!, there are 400 children with whom my brother says I share a quarter of my DNA. OK, 3, but they sounded like 400. They were fun to play with for a while, but after dinner, I crashed and took my leave of everyone. 2.5 hours later, and I realize that I won't be sleeping tonight either. Yikes!

Anyway, that's where I am right now. Tomorrow at some point, I am going to go to Washington University's library to do a little researchy-werchy. But other than that, I am vegging.

HJ

Carl Sagan and the Cosmos should just get a room, already.

I had a kickass coupon for Borders yesterday, 40% off any DVD boxed set. I picked up Carl Sagan's Cosmos. As you may know, I have an interest in Sagan's novel, Contact, and in my preparation to coauthor an article about him, I thought that I might get a batter handle on him by watching the classic series. And, seriously, am I ever going to get it at 40% off again? No. So Cosmos it was.

Cosmos one man's torrid love affair with the universe, and I am enjoying it immensely. You are likely familiar with Sagan's The Demon-Haunted World, certainly a masterwork of skepticism and in its advocacy of the scientific method. I am currently reading his Billions and Billions, his final collection of essays, many of them, timely enough, related to global warming. There is a simply breathtaking speech that he gave at Gettysburg, which every school child should read every Christmas.

The scope of Sagan's interest in Cosmos, is not limited to astronomy, which I was expecting it to be about, for some reason. His interest spans history, philosophy, science fiction (if you'll allow a generous interpretation of the "floaters, divers and hunters" section--also, he does a lurch like he's on the bridge of the Enterprise as his spacecraft of the imagination alights on Venus), biology, genetics, and engineering. It is human achievement writ large (and small).

He early defines the cosmos as "everything that was, is, or ever will be," and that is what he is trying to get at. Now think about that for a second. How do you write that? How would you organize that? Think of everything in an encyclopedia, all the topics, subjects, images graphs, everything--the entire catalog of human knowledge and now take away alphabetization. How do you organize all that...stuff? This is the problem that Sagan and his coauthors faced in this project, I think. I think that and part of how they reconcile it is within each episode to float from topic to topic, moving associatively through the material, or almost so. Actually, it's more subtle than a sort of detached narration (think Joyce's "The Dead"). He does is what he does in his essays: he picks things that are apparently unrelated, but brings them together in insightful and clever ways that enhance our understanding of both. Whether he is talking about the large scale structure of the whole damned universe or the interior workings of a cell nucleus (I've seem them both already), he is constantly reminding us that the laws that generate these structures are universal, and that science is how we come to understand them. Part of his hypothesis is that people are the universe becoming aware of itself. All is connected. Om.....

There is some cheese, of course--and let's face it, he has more jackets than Mr. Rogers--but you are willing to embrace it because he enthuses so over his topic. It's in the very language of the narration. If you get a chance, or if it has been a number of years, go back and get reacquainted with this groundbreaking series.

HJ

Did Cell Phones Kill Brittney Murphy? Did Glenn Beck?

Even though I strongly doubt that Glenn Beck can account for his whereabouts when Brittany Murphy died, I think that the more likely culprit is either cell phone radiation to the brain, or perhaps crib death brought on by vaccines. Late onset SIDS, of course. (Actually, I'm looking at pictures of Murphy and wonder if she did not die from complications related to an eating disorder.)

I saw that Maine is contemplating useless legislation about cell phones, which would put misleading warnings about imaginary hazards of cellphone usage on every damned cell phone. Of course, I hate cell phones and try never to use mine. Ever. I doubt it's even charged right now. But the fact that they are a scourge (heheh) does not mean that scaring people about them is right or responsible.

The AP put out a news release about the upcoming bill in Maine, and the one thing that is missing from the article is any substantive scientific discussion about electromagnetic radiation, which is what everyone is so scared of. Are cell phone emitting ionizing radiation? No. And, from my understanding, ionizing radiation is what you need to cause cancer. So, basically, until there are uranium-powered cell phones, I'm not going to worry too much about the cancer risks. We lack a plausible mechanism by which cellphones emitting radiowave energy can cause cancer. I think cell phones are only dangerous when they are in the hands of idiot drivers (all of you) or when they are flung at your head.

The most misleading part of the AP article comes toward the end, while discussing the scientific evidence:

Last year, Dr. Ronald B. Herberman, director emeritus of the University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute, sent a memo to about 3,000 faculty and staff members warning of risks based on early, unpublished data. He said that children should use the phones only for emergencies because their brains were still developing and that adults should keep the phone away from the head and use a speakerphone or a wireless headset.

Herberman, who says scientific conclusions often take too long, is one of numerous doctors and researchers who have endorsed an August report by retired electronics engineer L. Lloyd Morgan. The report highlights a study that found significantly increased risk of brain tumors from 10 or more years of cell phone or cordless phone use.

This is asshattery at its height. Orac handled this pud (I was going to say, "dealt with this pud handily," but the effect is not the same) back in July 2008. Go read it.

HJ

Siphoning money away from the Creation Museum!

Every time I pass through Kentucky, which I do fairly regularly nowadays (3 times in the last 6 months, and once more tomorrow), I make a point of picking up as many Creation Museum pamphlets as humanly possible for redistribution among the squirrels in the rest stop trashcans. Head of a penis Ken Ham, chief failure at Answers in Genesis (no small feat, given the accretion disk of dipshittery around him), seems to have mistaken something like this for interest.

Sure, that's exactly what the rack looks like once I have been through there, but Ken takes a flying leap off of the cliff of logic and presumes that people like his monument to trailer trash. Even if it weren't people walking off with brochures out of a sense of petty civic responsibility, and god knows that Kentucky is full of Kentuckians, look what Ken's brochures are competing for attention against.

"Discover Detroit?" Sounds like some sort of perverse mandatory criminal sentence. Ohio Caverns? There is nothing conceptually less interesting than "a hole in Ohio." Almost sounds redundant.

I can't wait to see the museum for myself.

HJ

The Holy Foreskin and Other Relics...

Enjoy the goof, which I found via Arts and Letters Daily. It's David Farley's The Family Jewels, or Christianity's most hilarious scams!

HJ

Update: Here's something you weren't expecting, thanks to Muffinman, who found the following at allexperts.com regarding the Holy Prepuce (Foreskin of our Lord):

Allegorical importance

Apart from its physical importance as a relic, the Holy Foreskin is sometimes claimed to have appeared in a famous vision of Saint Catherine of Siena. In the vision, Jesus mystically marries her, and his amputated foreskin is given to her as a wedding ring. However, this has not been traced any earlier than a seventeenth-century anti-Catholic parody, and as such is of dubious credibility.

During the late 17th century, Catholic scholar and theologian Leo Allatius in De Praeputio Domini Nostri Jesu Christi Diatriba ("Discussion concerning the Prepuce of our Lord Jesus Christ") speculated that the Holy Foreskin may have ascended into Heaven at the same time as Jesus himself and might have become the rings of Saturn, then only recently observed by telescope.

Voltaire, in A Treatise of Toleration (1763), ironically referred to veneration of the Holy Foreskin as being one of a number of superstitions that were "much more reasonable... than to detest and persecute your brother".

Let's just get a handle on how goofy this is:

HJHOP: The Most Important Discoveries of 2009

I am a different person than I was a year ago, and things that are of great importance to me now did not exist for me a year ago. With that in mind, I would like to commemorate my top 10 most important discoveries of the year.

10. High-speed Internet. Holy living crap. Why didn't anyone tell me how much faster multiplayer Medal of Honor would go? Were you trying to hog the whole Internet for yourself? High-speed Internate came with my move to Atlanta. I had never splurged on it before. With the new job, I figured, "Why not?"

9. Skeptoid.com. A great site and a great podcast. Always fun, always something strange. I talked to Brian Dunning at Skeptoid. No, you may not touch the hem of my tunic. Not for free, anyway.

8. MP3 players. There was a point in my teaching career when I held an entire class in a chat room, and I was all proud of myself for being innovative. At least until some kid typed: "Wow, a chat room! I haven't been in one of these since I was in 3rd grade!" I feel the same way about mp3 players. They are old news to everyone else, but I think they are totally swell. I use my ailing little player to record my podcast.

7. WavePad Sound Editor. This is the handy little program I use to edit my podcast.

6. Meetup.com. I have come into very close contact with skeptics via meetup. One day, I will introduce myself to them.

5. Dr. Pamela Gay. Her talk on the Big Bang at the Science Track at DragonCon was simply splendid, and I would kill untold numbers of Frenchmen to get a transcript. Let's hope it does not come to that. She is as busy one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest hustling hither and thither promoting the International Year of Astronomy. Also, you should be listening to the Astronomy Cast podcast, which is fantastic. Plus it has a Canadian! I should really link to some of these sites.

4. Australia. This year I discovered Australia. Then I claimed it for Spain. Over the past year, I have become increasingly aware of exciting things that skeptics are doing in Australia. The Young Australian Skeptics are making themselves heard these days and their "man on the street" interviews inspired a skeptical exercise I went through with my students. The Skeptics' Zone Podcast is a weekly joy. Rachel Dunlop's voice (met her at DragonCon) could calm an angry bull at a 100 yards! Also, they have been holding the AVN's collective tender bits to some very hot surfaces all year, which makes me very proud of my upside down brothers and sisters! I believe that Australia is getting a TAM this coming year.

3. Atlanta Skeptics. This is a form of life indigenous to the Metro Atlanta region. As best I can tell, it subsides on bar food and beer.

2. Wah. Seriously. This year I rediscovered my guitar in a big, big way, and I'm having a hell of a time with it. I came across a couple of effects pedals at local pawn shops, bought them all and actually have put together a sound I really sort of like. But I'm not done. Oh, no. Next is a Digitech Whammy (yay!). Also, sometime next year I am looking to get a Gibson Les Paul Studio. I played one a few days ago at Guitar Center and I almost cried it was such a beautiful sound. That sumbitch is mine.

1. DragonCon. A year ago, if someone asked me if I had ever gone to DragonCon, I would have pulled off his fake Spock ears and jabbed him in the eye. But now, ah! My mind has been opened! (Some would say my mind had been "freed, never to return." ) The skeptic track was very important to my development as a skeptic this year. I feel that I met a lot of really nifty people, many of whom have national or international reputations in science, skepticism. Also, I saw Richard Kiel and almost ran over a pair of pussyfarts from the show Ghost Hunters (Steve and Tango). Many of the good things that I list here came directly out of Skepticon.

Here's the sound collage I came up with at DragonCon. At the 44 minute mark, I am talking to Patrick Burns, a ghost hunter from Haunting Evidence, you can hear him admit that the scientific evidence is not there. That was a highlight for me, really. For a recap of what you will hear, look at my initial post for this podcast.


A few other snippets of sound. I had the pleasantly surreal experience of standing in line waiting for them to call out my name to give me my badge:


Here I ask a question of a panel of skeptics and get an answer from all sorts of nifty people (do you recognize Eugenie Scott in there?)


So, that was my year. Of course, I have not yet been to the Creation Museum. I'm totally bringing my audio recorder for that one! Stay tuned.

HJ

Guess who's going to the Creation Museum?

Heheh.

On my way back from St. Louis, I am going to have a one-night layover in Cincinnati. It's trousers-down for the great creationist gangbang!

HJ

From Blue Gal, who is a dove

Truly, one classy lady. You should be reading Blue Gal. And Al Franken, I want to have your babies.



Joe, you are bad and people are tired of you. Get out, twit.

HJ