To GrrlScientist:

Go, blog for me, and be my eyes
And ears, beneath Antarctic skies,
Where colonies of penguins dwell
(Creating quite a rancid smell).

And you will sit upon the ice
And snow, and blog in words concise
By rugged glaciers, icy shelves,
For us, who can’t be there ourselves.

And I will read your priceless posts
And offer you a thousand toasts,
To health and heart, to pen and ink,
Whatever gift I chance to think.

I’ll wish I could be there to see
The wonders that you write for me,
So eloquent your vivid prose
I’ll feel the cold wind as it blows.

Such alien and foreign climes
Are too much work to cast in rhymes:
If you have schemes you would devise
Then blog for me and be my eyes.

The penguins there will sing and dance:
“GrrlScientist has won the chance!”
To friends up North, you’ll say good-byes,
And blog for us, and be our eyes.

To everybody else:

I know that as small fish go, I am a very very very small little tiny little cuttlefish in a global virtual pond. I struggle to maintain just over a hundred readers per day, with occasional spikes a bit higher. Rarely, one of my readers will do something, and I will suddenly get over a thousand readers, and once double that! So, yeah, I am a small fish.

So I need your help. Whatever it is that you do to share one of my posts that you like, please do it for this one. Post it on whatever blogs, forums, newsgroups, tin cans with string, semaphore chains, electronic telegraph machines or smoke signals you have, and get lots of eyes over to GrrlScientist’s blog, or (if you trust me) directly to her entry, to vote. (Yeah, she’s Devorah; no, I’ve never met anyone with that name before, either.) You may, within the rules, vote from two different email accounts if you have them; voting does require registration, but it is simple, and a worthy cause.

That worthy cause is self-interest. See, Quark is sending someone, as my little verse says, to be our eyes and ears, to be our proxy in Antarctica. This is not something for just anyone. Odds are, if you are reading this, you already know that there are better and worse bloggers, better and worse writers (the two are not synonymous), and it makes a difference who you send to observe and report for you. For me, what clinched it for GrrlScientist was her photo series on the mosaics of the NYC subway system. I want someone who does not just passively take in the sights, sounds, and smells, but who actively looks for the beauty (or the beast) in even the overlooked corners. After all, she will be a guest there, and we will be guests there through her; to us, even the things the long-timers have long ago taken for granted, are new and strange, and I (quite selfishly) want someone there who sees the world the way GrrlScientist does.

Anyway… go vote, and please go spread the word in the other places you haunt. There are about 2 weeks left in voting, and she could use your help. And you could use her talent.

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Winston The Pigeon

Carrier pigeons are diligent workers,
And some have been honored as heroes!
But, sadly, technology changed their careers,
With the messages, now, ones and zeroes.

Information now moves over fibers and wires,
At the speed (so they tell me) of light;
And people accustomed to speed such as this
Aren’t impressed by a pigeon in flight.

But intertubes clog, and cables will jam,
And data gets stuck on its way;
Uploading a file takes forever, it seems,
With the fastest computers today.

A firm down in Durban, South Africa, thought
That their ADSL seemed too slow.
Would a pigeon be faster? They planned out a test
So the firm could empirically know.

Thus, Winston the Pigeon was all loaded up,
Four gigs on a flash memory stick,
From Howick to Durban, about sixty miles,
His job was to get it there quick.

They started the clock when they opened the cage,
And a regular upload as well—
Would bird or technology first cross the line?
The experiment, surely, would tell.

Winston the Pigeon first circled the square,
Then was off at full speed for the coast!
In sixty-eight minutes, brave Winston was there
But of course, he was not one to boast.

In about one more hour, the data were loaded,
It looked as if Winston had won!
But wait—check the status of ADSL,
And they found…only four percent done!

Now Winston the Pigeon is over the moon;
He’s faster than broadband, no less!
But technology marches; the internet, now
Must compete with the Pony Express!

(second link–BBC coverage–includes video of the race!)

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Grand-Dad!


I have a small bottle of sepia ink
Which I use for particular writing.
The feel of a quill-pen is special, I think,
And I find the whole process exciting.

I read in the news, of an interesting find,
Of a well-preserved cephalo-fossil
(The paleontologists gladly remind,
What we learn may be truly colossal!

See, soft-tissue fossils are rare, as a rule,
So an ink-sac was quite unexpected—
This cephalofind was the coolest of cool,
As a rock that can still be dissected!)

The scientists ground up the fossilized sac
To make ink for its own illustration—
Some see this as fitting, while others attack
It as cruel (in unique presentation!*)

Myself, as his great-great-great-great-great-great-great
Great-great-grandson, I want his return.
His repatriation to Cuttle-Estate,
To his burial inkwell—er, urn.

*Anyone who does not follow this link and read the whole thing is a complete gooberhead. Just sayin’.

Cuttlecap tip to Karen–Thanks!

Nathaniel Jeanson, Stealth Ph. D.

Nate was a Creationist, who hated bugs and blood,
And he wondered, “What’s the perfect job for me?”
He could spread the word of Jesus, the Creation, and the Flood,
If he got a Harvard Medical Degree!

It would give him credibility, and earn him some respect,
And would help him to evangelize, he said.
Since he claimed a higher calling–there were souls he must protect–
It’s ok if his advisors were misled.

His profs expected honesty; they treated him with trust.
Did they mold him to a scientist? They tried…
When he found a contradiction, he would manage as he must;
He just murmured “What would Jesus do?”, and lied.

With degree in hand, and facing competition for a job,
Why, he found a path much easier by far!
“Why bother with competing with the Harvard Med School mob,
I can lie for Jesus, at the I.C.R.!”

Now he’s got a shiny title; he’ll do research, speak, and write,
With his Harvard cred to use and to abuse,
And he’ll make “eternal friends” (a fact which brings him great delight),
While the people who need medicine? … they lose.

Cuttlecap tip to PZ, of course.

Newspapers Are Born To Exaggerate

It seems these things come in waves. This time, it is the Times Online overreaching the consequences of some recent neuroscience finding, presenting it in a splashy way, and misrepresenting pretty much whatever they need to in order to fit the message in the simple headline. “We are born to believe in God“, says the paper this time, and lists a number of researchers (at least one of whom has complained about his depiction) whose work is shoehorned into the “hardwired belief” message. (I have not read all of them, but certainly Dawkins, Hood, and Persinger, and while I can see the germ of what the present authors saw, I must say they have read them differently than I did.)

There is, in my view, a considerably simpler explanation that still fits. (I am reminded, with tremendous feelings of inadequacy, of Douglas Adams’ description of humans as fundamentally tool-makers, inventing a god who, like them, is a creator. I am taking a different track, viewing us as fundamentally social creatures, even before we are tool-makers.) We are social creatures. As such, it has behooved us to use certain social strategies, which have apparently served us well. To wit, we are easily influenced by others. We are, unsurprisingly, influenced by the social power of the majority (see Asch), and of course by the positional power of authorities (see Milgram). This is not bad nor good, this is simply who and what we are. That there are areas of the brain associated with obeying (perhaps even worshipping or feeling awe in the presence of) others is no surprise whatsoever. I wonder if those same areas might light up, for some people, in the presence of an adored movie star, singer, or politician. (Would this be evidence that Sophia Loren is God? A much better thought than the idea of scanning my in-laws’ brains while they listen to O’Reilly.) Religion would be, in this model, simply a successful hijacking of this genetic predisposition toward social living. No pre-wiring for belief in god (and did you notice the capital letter? Are we pre-wired for a particular religion?), but rather a predisposition toward particular behaviors that facilitate social living.

In other words…

The Times Online has just opined
It seems as if we are designed,
When growing up, to seek and find
Some evidence for God.
(Of course, the authors whom they quote,
Like Hood and Dawkins, don’t promote
This view at all, so one may note
The Times is acting odd.)

Such explanations soon run thin–
It seems to me that what’s built in
For social humans and their kin
And each religious pilgrim
Is deference to authority,
A bow to the majority
(Just look to a sorority,
Or shocking Stanley Milgram).

Communal lifestyle surely shapes
Our genes, and so, as social apes
Such strategies have served in scrapes,
Thus following’s selected.
The Times is also well-controlled
By genes that fit our social mold–
Reporting only what they’re told
By someone well-respected!

A Verse On The Echidna’s Four-Headed Penis

Ok, in truth, this was inspired by this post on Pharyngula, but that was not the whole point of PZ’s post, so I was going to use some other source… but frankly, if you google “echidna penis” you get more than, perhaps, you were looking for. Anyway, go ahead and do an image search for an echidna’s penis, and you will see that it has four heads. A little more looking into the available information about female echidnas, and you may understand why.

I count myself very grateful indeed that I am not an Echidna.

Two heads are better than one, so they say,
So four heads are better by far;
It took evolution to build this array,
And to humans, it still seems bizarre.

It never would work for a human male, though,
(Is it blessing, or is it a pity?)
See, men tend to think with their dicks, and we know
That nothing gets done by committee.

Step One: Get On Your Knees…

PZ reports on a helpful manual put out by the Catholic Truth Society: the Prayer Book For Spouses.

The book contains prayers for every stage of marriage and family life, including engagement, planning for parenthood, pregnancy and caring for children and elderly parents.

The prayers, written by a variety of authors, are interspersed with Catholic teaching on the meaning of marriage and family.

But of course, the media attention they are getting is for their “Prayer Before Making Love”. Go figure.

My wife and I are nervous wrecks—
The church is getting into sex!
They’ve come up with a book describing how we ought to do it.
But maybe it’s not all that bad;
I’m calmer now, but just a tad—
Before I just dismiss it, guess I’ll buy one and look through it.

Hmmm….

Step one: you get down on your knees…
Hey, I could live with rules like these!
And pray to God for tenderness, and purified intent—
A union that does not deceive,
A loving spouse, to whom to cleave…
I liked the bit on kneeling, till I found out what it meant.

The handbook’s authors claim to be
The “Catholic Truth Society”
A group of (oxy)morons who believe they’re doing good;
So, sex for them is holy duty,
Not some chance to knock some booty
Earnest prayer is foreplay; they’re a bit misunderstood.

Putting God back into screwing—
If that’s really what they’re doing
Then the way they go about it is, to me, a little odd;
A religious genuflection
Could diminish my erection—
And that’s quite the wrong direction, if she’s gonna say “Oh GOD!”

Atheists Over-Consuming, Says Man On Gold Throne

Some priests take vows: stability,
Obedience, and chastity,
Some take a vow of poverty,
And then, there is The Pope.
Some give up almost every thing
That modern life can surely bring
But look upon that Papal Ring
With lust, or greed, or hope.

They gladly take authority,
Relieving folks like you or me
From any need to think, you see,
Then listen to our sins.
To hear some girl or boy confess
How lust has made their life a mess
Brings fullness to a priestly dress
The minute it begins

“I’ve coveted my neighbor’s ass,
When, such a lovely little lass,
She dressed right by the window glass–
It’s quite a frequent bother!”
If it were not for fear of God
And Satan’s massive cattle prod
I swear a priest would shoot his wad
With every “Bless me, Father…”

And now the Pope, on throne of gold,
Decides to blame, so we are told,
His enemy from days of old–
The folks who don’t believe–
For lust for power, ego, greed,
For taking more that what they need
Rejecting his ascetic creed
And giving earth the heave.

He has the gall to preach restraint
And act the part of slighted saint;
I have to tell myself, “how quaint!
He acts as if we care!”
Surrounded by his gold and jewels,
Pontificating papal rules
To sycophants and silly fools…
Humanity, beware!

Perhaps restraint is what you want if
You are going to say this, Pontiff–
Seems a bit too nonchalant, ef-
fusing thoughts like these,
Ensconced in your luxurious palace,
Sipping from your golden chalice
It frankly, Ratzi, feels like malice:
Authority? Oh, please.

Cuttlecap tip: PZ.

Selection Favors The Prepared Cephalopod

So I had read the news release, and thought “Ah! Finally, a chance to beat Myers to a post about cephalopods!” Silly me. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape; you don’t spit into the wind; you don’t pull the mask off the ol’ Lone Ranger, and you never try to beat PZ Myers to a story involving cephalopods. But I do have a cooler illustration (which I will put at the bottom, just for suspense; the first illustration is the same one PZ used), again from Mike McRae. I was not planning to post it yet, but this story is just too perfect.


The first illustration, from Science magazine; on the left is a fossil ammonoid; on the right, the vampire squid Vampyroteuthis infernalis. The vampire squid lives in water with very little dissolved oxygen; the ability to live in such conditions may be the reason for an explosion of cephalopods following the Permian Extinction. For more information, see PZ’s post, or the New York Times article, or even the Science article, if you have access.

The Permian Extinction wiped out ninety-plus percent
Of the creatures that had, by that time, evolved.
A rapid rise in atmospheric CO2 had meant
That the water had less oxygen dissolved.
(I know, I know, the animals on land were also hit,
But the news today is focused on the sea;
And you may call me biased—which I’ll readily admit—
So this story is more interesting to me!)
The ammonoids—the ancestors to octopus and squid,
And to cuttlefish (their greatest claim to fame)—
Were badly hurt, like all the rest; their population slid,
Ah, but from those few survivors, see what came!
The ammonoids exploded (metaphorically, of course),
Filling niches left by species that had died;
The few remaining species were selection’s vital source
For diversity to fill the planet wide.
Their secret to survival? One scenario is this:
They’d adapted to the cold, anoxic deep,
And the new conditions everywhere were like their old abyss,
So selection said: “I think, this one I’ll keep.”
When catastrophe sweeps multitudes from off the planet’s face,
Evolution makes the best of what’s still there;
This story shows that, sometimes, if you want to win the race,
Be a metabolic tortoise, not a hare!

Now, the beautiful illustration–a cephalopod version of Darwin’s “Tree of Life”!

Science Is A Cephalopod

Hey, my first chance to show off some of the new artwork (for the upcoming revised, updated and improved book)! Mike McRae, the artist behind my banner art (thanks, Podblack, for suggesting him!), has drawn a few illustrations for the chapters. He asked me what I had in mind for each, listened carefully to my rambling suggestions, then wisely ignored a great many of them in order to produce something much much better.

And sometimes, his choices were very very different from mine. For instance, rather than sticking with a cuttlefish for each illustration, he has used octopus, squid, and even nautilus! At first, the notion of the nautilus grabbing the prize gig of representing science rather galled me… but then, it suddenly could not be more perfect. Science, after all, grows by testing hypotheses, and discarding ideas that cannot be supported. If science has grown to the point where an old idea no longer fits, we abandon it, and sort of wall it off (there is no reason to reconsider geocentrism as being worth another look at this point, after all). And with every rejection, science grows.

I guess what I am trying to say is…

Science is a nautilus; it builds upon its past,
By discarding what it clearly has outgrown;
Empirically assessing views that will or will not last,
And adding to the sum of what is known

Our ancient view of nature was ridiculously small,
From the universe itself, to our place in it—
But our knowledge grew, until that view could never hold it all,
And it’s growing more with every passing minute

A new and better theory soon replaced the old and weak;
This may also be abandoned as we grow;
If a theory is found wanting, then a better one we seek,
Which is how we keep increasing what we know

The nautilus will build a wall, to permanently close
Any cell for which it has no further use;
When you find a static charge can heat the air up till it glows,
You’ve got lightning with no need to call in Zeus

Should a scientist today concede the Earth is really flat?
That phlogiston is the reason fires burn?
That demons are the cause of plagues (and never mind that rat)?
That is not the way to grow from what we learn!

An open mind is willing, if it must, to close a door,
If the evidence is clear that’s what to do;
We must never mourn the tiny room we occupied before—
There is so much more amazement in the new!