I Never Thought I'd Miss Cowbells

I can't watch it. The World Cup is on and I just can't watch the TV. It's the noise.

The vuvuzelas were bad enough. But now they're dancing with jin-tinglers tied to their heels. They blow their flu-flubers, they bang their tar-tinkers, they blow their hoo-hoovers, they bang their gar-dinkers! I mean, how can we enjoy the beautiful game when they are blowing their trum-tookers, slamming their sloo-slunkers, beating their blum-blookers and whaming their hoo-whunkers?

If there's one thing I hate it's all the noise, noise, noise, noise.

(offered with apologies to the memory of Theodore Geisel)

Trek Tok

I must admit I've never heard of Ke$sha, and I'm not usually a fan of this type of music, which I'm told is called "dance-pop," but there's just something about this video that I like.



If you haven't clicked on it yet, go ahead. It is surprisingly well done and kind of catchy. I caught my girlfriend, the whitest woman I know, dancing to it. But then, she's a Trekkie too.

And We're Giving You a Tie

I Don't Care if it Rains or Freezes, Long as I Got My Plastic Jesus

Until last night a 62 foot statue of Jesus rose from a large baptismal pool at the Solid Rock Church along I-75 in Ohio. While the church may be built on a solid rock, the statue was made of styrofoam on a metal frame, and covered with fiberglass. It cost about a quarter of a million dollars.

Touchdown!

Last night it was struck by lightning and consumed by flame.

While some may be tempted to suggest that the Lord was expressing his opinion of the church's theology, I will not. Certainly I disagree with some of their tenets. I don't accept that the Bible is the expression of the mind of God. No book, no matter how revered, can capture the mind of God. Doctrinal and style differences aside, I'm sure that the Lord has a lot more to be angry about than one megachurch in Middle America.

I do think God has a sense of humor. Perhaps he noticed that the number one seller at the church's online store is a CD called Worship on Fire by the Fire Choir.

God may indeed be speaking here, and perhaps I can attempt to interpret what the He is saying.

While it is true that the Bible contains much wisdom and many of God's laws, it is not the alpha and omega in itself. There is other wisdom and there are other laws. For example, if you build a tall metal structure on a flat plain or in a pond, and you locate it in a place that has occasional electric storms, you can be pretty sure that it will eventually be hit by lighting. If that metal structure is covered with flammable material, the result will be flames. In other words:

And the Lord created the laws of physics and probability, and you ignore them at your own peril. And the Lord looked down upon the graven image and spake.

“Shazam!” sayeth the Lord.

Trivial Hoot Twelve

Hello again my brilliant puzzlers. Our last question was answered in record time by the newest Steely-Eyed Missile Man, t4tudor, who knew that Edward V and Edward VIII were the only English kings never to be crowned.

This time we're going in a different direction and quizzing you on sports. I'm not usually one for sports trivia but the subject of this one transcends mere games.


As always the first person to get it right will receive a big hoot and will join our roll of honor as a Steely-Eyed Missile Man or Woman.

Here are four teams for you to consider. The Bruins, the Capitals, the Dodgers, and the Lions. Each of these professional teams was the first to do something in their respective sport. What was the significant thing that each of these teams did first?

Life on Titan

Sensors show life signs on Saturn's largest moon, Titan. We should beam down to the surface and try to establish contact. Phasers on stun.

In the real world signs of life don't necessarily mean life, but the data are intriguing. In 2005 a NASA scientist speculated that microbial methanogenic life could exist on the oxygen poor moon. These critters would breath in hydrogen, consume acetylene, and excrete methane. Now comes the Cassini space probe showing us that there is less hydrogen and acetylene at the satellite's surface than there should be. It's almost as if there is something down there that is consuming it. Whoa.

Have we really found evidence of extra-terrestrial life? Maybe, maybe not, but it will be a long time before we can be sure. NASA isn't funded for anything beyond low-earth orbit anymore, so the universe will just have to wait.

Glenn's Book of Quotes, Number Nineteen

“To be great is to be misunderstood.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's a lovely quote, very encouraging to a lot of us. But remember, the opposite is not always true. Just because you are misunderstood does not mean you are necessarily great. You might just need to express yourself more clearly.

I Am Ironbaby!

Yeah, they're already getting calls from Hollywood.

Sea Cats

Happy Caturday! Here's a lovely collection of pictures showing cats in the sea services, including this one of little Miss Hap being nursed by a Marine. Tip o' the hat to Folderol for the link.

Hooray For Yiddish!

It's kind of a pointless exercise, writing about a book that is out of print. It's not like you, gentle reader, can rush out to your nearest Border & Noble-a-Million DotCom and pick it up. But perhaps someone in the wide, wide world of publishing will hear about this and decide that this is just the right time to re-release a wonderful book with limited commercial appeal. Yes, perhaps that will happen.

Many, many years ago I read Leo Rosten's wonderful The Joys of Yiddish. Many years after that my best beloved, trolling the bargain book tables as she is wont to do, found the sequel, Hooray For Yiddish! She brought it home and said “Look, you'll want to read this!” I agreed, and we put it in the stacks for later reading. And, since there are thousands of books in our tiny apartment, and since we are terribly disorganized people, I lost track of it.

Flash forward a few years to last month. I stumbled across it next to a DVD with a Star Trek cartoon on it (I told you we were disorganized). And that brings us here.

The subtitle of Hooray for Yiddish! is “A Book About English.” And so it is. This is a lexicon of words in English, Yiddish, and “Yinglish.” The English words and phrases are those that have been influenced by Yiddish. These include “crazy-doctor,” “so sue me,” and “live a little.” The Yiddish ones are words from that language that have entered our language or that Rosten thinks should enter our language. These include “mentsh,” “shlock,” and “shlemiel.” Yinglish words are, of course, those that straddle the line, like “ipsy-pipsy.”

If you think that sitting down with a lexicon would be at all boring, you obviously don't know Leo Rosten. Rosten was a terrific writer, wit, and raconteur. His writing is wise, learned, and hilarious. Almost every entry is illustrated by a joke. It doesn't matter that some of the jokes are, shall we say, classic. The truly good ones are always worth retelling.

Here for example is how he explains the use of the word “kibitzer,” meaning one who comments from the sidelines, offers unasked-for advice, or wisecracks:

The sign on the doctors' office read:

DR. ROBERT LEWIN, Brain Surgery.

DR. J.O. BANKMAN, Psychiatry.

DR. CHARLES GOLUB, Proctology.

Under this imposing troika, a kibitzer scrawled:

We specialize in

Odds and Ends.

And here is how he illustrates the word “mazel,” meaning luck:

In the powder room of the Ritz Hotel in London, bejeweled dowagers, attending a great charity ball, fluttered about the mirrors. Several noticed an enormous diamond on the pink and ample bosom of Lady Gwendolyn de Plotnick. “I may say,” said Lady de Plotnick, “that this is the third-largest diamond ever known. The largest was the Cullinan diamond; the second largest, the Kohinoor; and the third is—the Plotnick.”

“Gracious!”

“My!”

“How fortunate you are!” cooed the ladies.

“We-ell, not all that meets the eye is fortunate,” said the admired one. “As my ancestors often said, 'Nothing is all mazel.' So it is with this diamond. Alas, whoever wears the Plotnick diamond inherits the Plotnick Curse.”

“Oh.”

“What's the Plotnick Curse?”

Sigh. “Plotnick.”

As I read this book my amazement at the influence this language, spoken by a tiny minority of Americans, continued to grow. I hear Yidishisms and Yiddish influenced English all the time, often spoken by people who have no idea of the origin of their words or why they phrase things the way they do. It is a tribute to the genius of America, the strength of the English language, and the incredible dynamism of the Jewish people. America, the melting pot, continually refreshes itself with new peoples, cultures, and ideas. We took in these huddled masses from eastern Europe and they gave us the gifts of their language and culture. The world has never been the same.

The marriage of English and Yiddish is surely a match made in heaven. Both are magpie languages. Yiddish is a thousand years old. It is Germanic at its base, written with the Hebrew alphabet, with bits of eastern European, Slavic, Romance, and other languages mixed in. It took a bit from here and a bit from there and became its own beautiful thing. English is an aggressive borrower. As James Nicoll famously said, “English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle through their pockets for new vocabulary.” It gladly lends and even more happily takes any word, phrase, or grammatical construction that might be useful, euphonious, or just fun to say.

While the combination was perfect, the growth of Yinglish still seems amazing. It's influence on our language is entirely out of proportion to the relatively small group of people who spoke the language. Today fewer than 200,000 Americans can converse in Yiddish. And yet it is a big part of our language. Why? Because of the people who spoke it. The culture of these Ashkenazim was shot through with a love of learning, language, and literature. They were a people who had suffered much and were determined to survive and prosper. They were brave, brash, witty, talented, and funny.

I think funny is the key here. In vaudeville, radio, musical theater, stand-up comedy, movies, and TV, Jewish people have had a tremendous influence. Just look around: Milton Berle, Jack Benny, George Burns, Lenny Bruce, Jerry Seinfeld, Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, Morey Amsterdam, the Marx Brothers, Phil Silvers, Henny Youngman, the Three Stooges, Jon Stewart, Lewis Black, Billy Crystal, Soupy Sales, Jerry Stiller, Neil Simon, Carl Reiner, Allan Sherman, Zero Mostel, Buddy Hackett, Carol Kane, and Krusty the Clown. Try to imagine American humor without them. Impossible. The very idea is meshugge.

If Italian is the language of music and French is the language of love, Yiddish is surely the language of funny. Shmendrick, shmo, shlemazl, they're just fun to say. Shmeer, shpilkes, shmuck, useful words to be sure, but also a joy to hear.

Rosten's enjoyment of and enthusiasm for his mama-loshn, his mother tongue, is infectious. This is certainly the best lexicon I've read this year. Good luck trying to find your own copy. Mazel tov. 

Boom

This essay on oil booming has been around for a couple of weeks now, but I don't think it is getting the attention it deserves. Oil booms are those bright orange barriers that BP is putting down near the shore to protect the coast from their oil spill. They don't seem to be doing much good, and this article, written by a guy called “Fishgrease,” explains why, clearly and concisely . Oil booms, it seems, need to be set up in a very particular way. Do it right and they work. Just lay them down parallel to the coast, as BP has been doing, and they are useless. But they are bright orange, clearly visible to the media and the press, and do an excellent job of making it look like something is being done.



Fishgrease makes some great points here. First, BP knows they are doing it wrong. They know and the Coast Guard knows, and no one is saying anything about it. That hurts, because I'm a big fan of the Coast Guard, but the point seems to be irrefutable. Second, this stinks all the way to the top. President Obama, a smart guy, should know by now that the booming that is being done is only for show, a salve on salve on BP's reputation, but he says nothing about it. Third, there is simply not enough booming material to protect the entire endangered region. That may be the most damning point. If you are doing something that is inherently dangerous, and if the worst case scenario is even remotely possible, you have an obligation to be prepared for it. If it wasn't already obvious, BP did not meet this obligation.



Members of the press and our political leaders should read this. Some of them might skip over it, because it is on a liberal website, is written by a guy with a funny name, and is punctuated with a lot of vulgar language. That's a pity, because people really ought to know.

Sir Patrick

As a Trekkie I can't let this moment pass. Patrick Stewart, who played a starship captain whom Captain Kirk once met, was knighted yesterday by Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith. The honor was conferred upon Stewart for “services to Drama.”


Although the film that he worked with Shatner in, Star Trek VII, was ultimately disappointing, he played his role well and the accolade is certainly deserved.

Paula Poundstone's Cats Don't Do Anything

Here's a video of them not doing anything.
This morning my cat knocked over a trash can, pulled a book halfway off a shelf, and deftly placed a hairball under my desk chair. No video of that, sorry.

Perfectly Ordinary

Please pay no attention to the radioactive fish near the Vermont Yankee nuclear plant.  Just an ordinary fish, nothing to see here, move along.

You May Be Right, I May Be Crazy . . .

This made me laugh.  Then, hours later, as I walked along a crowded sidewalk, I laughed again.  Some looked askance at me, but I am used to it.

Hidden History – Unit 731

Between 1932 and 1945 Japan killed somewhere between 300,000 and 500,000 civilians in a series of biological weapons attacks. To put that in perspective, it is about twice the number that died as a result of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It was the most deadly use of weapons of mass destruction in history and one of the worst crimes against humanity ever recorded. Most people have never heard of it.

It was orchestrated by a group called Unit 731. Unit 731 performed some of the most horrific experiments imaginable. Thousands of civilians and POWs were victimized. People were tied down, infected, and observed until they finally died. People were chopped up just to see how long it would take them to bleed out. Vivisection was commonplace. While the name Joseph Mengele has become a byword for evil, 731's leader, Shiro Ishii, is almost completely unknown.

This article from City Journal is a good introduction to this hidden history. Here's what 731 did when they wanted to learn how the diseases they had produced would spread:

The Japanese laced more than 1,000 wells in the area of Harbin with typhoid bacilli. They also inserted typhus into bottles of lemonade that children loved to drink in the summer, Harris reported. In Nanking, they distributed anthrax-filled chocolate and cake to hungry children. The Japanese discovered that packing fountain pens and walking sticks with deadly germs was a particularly effective way of secretly disseminating them.

Later the Japanese experimented with ways they could deliver germ warfare through aerial assault. They developed various bombs. At their most cartoon-like evil they even worked to infect fleas, put the fleas on bats, and drop them out of airplanes over target populations.

Why did they do it? Why kill hundreds of thousands of innocent people? Because they wanted to learn the best way to use biological weapons against the U.S. and Russia. They eventually developed a plan: Operation Cherry Blossoms at Night. Kamikaze planes were to be loaded with anthrax and attack California. It was scheduled for September, 1945. Hiroshima was bombed in August.

Two questions might occur to you about now gentle reader. First, what happened to these monsters after the war? Second, why have more people not heard of this? The City Journal article cited above answers both questions. Nothing happened to those monsters, and the reason for that is the same as the answer to the second question. Because the U.S. wanted to learn the secrets of Unit 731. The most evil research program in history became a bargaining chip in the Cold War.

I think it's time that we add this chapter to our textbooks. The lessons of this history are too important, too powerful, and sadly too relevant to our own time to be lost.

Trivial Hoot Eleven

My goodness, it's been a couple of months since I posed a puzzler to my brilliant readers. This time I will challenge your smarts in the field of history. As always the first person to get it right will receive a big hoot and will join our roll of honor as a steely-eyed missile man or woman.

Edward V and Edward VIII have a few things in common. First of all, they were both named Edward. Second, they were both English kings. Third, they are both dead guys. But they also share another distinction. They are the only English kings that we can say this about. What is this unique shared quality?

Go Dog Go

The American Kennel Club now allows mongrels to participate in their dog shows. Shocking, isn't it? Is this the beginning of the end for purebred dog breeding, or will the AKC find some way to screw up mutts?

Our concept of breeding pedigreed dogs to established standards is a legacy of the Victorians, those wonderful people who brought us eugenics, colonialism, and industrialized child labor. People had been breeding dogs to select desirable traits for countless centuries, but it was in the nineteenth century that we first got the idea of breeding to a set of written appearance standards and documenting bloodlines.

Over the years, by focusing on these arbitrary standards, the AKC has caused dogs to be bred for looks instead of health. As a result we have animals suffering hip dysplasia and any number of other genetic ailments. So-called purebred dogs are far more prone to painful physical problems than good old mutts.

Rather than celebrating the fact that healthy dogs are being allowed to play in the AKC's dog park, mongrel owners should create their own club. Papers would be created to track the mutt's family background, proving that there is not a speck of pedigree contamination in the bloodline. Canine genetic diversity would be honored. Dogs of indeterminate origin would be celebrated for their essential happy, healthy doggy-ness, and stud books would be tossed into the ash heap of history where they belong.

Share and Enjoy

y06 '5owel '''eay 3fer47gldy/ Oops. Sorry, I was trying to type this entry with a towel over my head. I wanted to be fully protected in case my office should be invaded by the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal. Safe for the moment I see. Today is, of course, Towel Day, and a happy Towel Day to you, gentle reader. Today we celebrate the life and work of the great Douglas Adams by proudly carrying our towels for all to see. As you surely know, a truly hoopy frood always knows where his towel is.

Let me suggest a project for this day of days. Talk to your friends and colleagues about Towel Day. You may run across someone who has not yet been introduced to Douglas Adams. Often this is a sign that the person you are talking to is a bit of a dullard. Give them a chance. They may, in fact, be pretty hoopy but have been deprived of good literature through no fault of their own. Strive to Share and Enjoy. Tell your friend about Adams. Steer them toward good reading. In fact, you could give them a copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. A paperback version is available for short money. If your friend reads it and loves it, then you know that he (or she) is as hoopy as you had hoped. What if your gift is not appreciated? Don't panic. You have learned that you needn't waste further effort on this person as he is irredeemably uncool.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going back under the towel. You can never be too careful with Bugblatter Beasts about.

Scientific Heresy?

Here's an opinion piece in New Scientist that posits what has become a radical notion: that questioning science is not blasphemy.

I should have thought this obvious, but it clearly is not. Those who raise serious questions about received wisdom are ostracized, insulted, and tarred with the epithet “denier,” a word that carries the moral baggage of “holocaust denier.” The question is not addressed; the questioner is attacked.

If those who hold opposing views are treated as if they are heretics, and if great scientists like Freeman Dyson can step out of the mainstream and be treated as vile apostates, then science is becoming our culture's newest religion. And not the open, welcoming religion of the vibrant, loving church down the street, but the oppressive closed-minded religion the like of which persecuted Galileo. Which is, if this isn't too obvious, rather ironic.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said that “the faith that stands on authority is not faith.” I would say that the science that stands on authority is not science. Science is supposed to be a method of seeking truth. Those who engage in that pursuit must be free to question, to dissent, and yes, to be wrong. Otherwise, science is not science at all.