So proud of my country today. We are one step closer to becoming that nation we always believe ourselves to be. It's a good feeling.
And it's a strange feeling. I'm suddenly all-too aware today of how rare a moment like this is. The good guys won. People's inherent humanity has been recognized, and enshrined into our law. The evil has been banished from the land. It feels like it should ALWAYS be like this. But it almost never is.
Sorry to be so melancholy about it. I'm really ecstatic, truly. Just wish we could feel this more often.
We are a better nation now - a better people - than we were yesterday.
Here is hoping, sincerely, profoundly, that the trend continues.
#LoveWins
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Showing posts with label news. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2015
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Carpe Diem, My Captain...
I really don't understand why the death of Robin Williams is hitting me so hard. As shocked as I was to hear of his death, I was (and still remain) almost as shocked by the depth of my reaction to it. I mean, sure I've felt saddened by the death of other celebrities before. I remember being particularly saddened by the death of Heath Ledger, and more recently, Philip Seymour Hoffman. But I've never been moved to tears like this before. Celebrities are, by nature, almost fictional characters to us themselves; always removed from our actual lives by cameras and screens. (I think that might have something to do with why it feels so strange whenever you see one in person - it's almost like TV or a movie coming to life!) And since we don't really know them personally, there's only so much their death can move us.
Or so I thought.
I don't know why this one hurts so much. Maybe it's because I grew up with him? Because I've enjoyed him so much for my entire life? I remember the rainbow Mork suspenders I had when I was five years old. (My first cosplay, I guess?) I remember seeing Popeye in the theaters with my parents just a few years later, and loving it completely. I have the same memories of Good Morning, Vietnam. And Hook. (Oh, Peter Pan! Why did you have to grow up?!) I watched Mrs. Doubtfire and Jumanji over and over, just because of the way it delighted both the boy and the man in me at the same time.
And I've seen Dead Poets Society so many times I can practically quote the whole movie. I don't know when I'll be able to watch that one again now. At the very least, I know I'll never be able to see it the same way again.
Maybe it's because it was apparently a suicide? It's possible. Might be the connection to my own mother's death. But I haven't reacted this way to other suicides or overdoses, so why this one? Maybe it's just the fact that suicide adds that final crack of heartbreak to the story. We didn't just lose one of the greats forever; we lost him to himself, to his own demons, to his own sickness. It feels like there must've been something that could've saved him. It feels like it didn't have to end this way. And it touches us all because, let's face it, haven't each and every one of us been there, or somewhere close to it, at least once in our lives? But if we could survive it, then why couldn't he?
I think it's true that there are few things more sad in this life, than a funny man, with a broken heart. His mentor, Jonathan Winters, knew that only too well. But he survived it anyways. It's too bad he couldn't be there to help his friend, who clearly needed him more than anyone knew.
Like so, so many of us today, I feel the need to pour my heart out to the memory of this funny man, who's been there my whole life, in some vain and desperate attempt to figure out just what in the fuck it means to live without him now.
Below, I've collected some of my favorites that other people have been sharing today. Some are funny, some are poignant, some are heart-breaking. But they all made me feel something. And that's helped, at least a little.
Here's hoping it can do the same for any of you.
"Robin Williams is not dead, he is just waiting in the jungle until somebody rolls a 5 or 8." -testingonetwothreetesting, via imgur
"One of the funniest people alive died from sadness." - chili1179, via imgur
And finally, this is how I always want to remember him:
Your barbaric YAWP! was heard around the world, sir, and inspired MILLIONS.
And you will always be my captain.
Or so I thought.
I don't know why this one hurts so much. Maybe it's because I grew up with him? Because I've enjoyed him so much for my entire life? I remember the rainbow Mork suspenders I had when I was five years old. (My first cosplay, I guess?) I remember seeing Popeye in the theaters with my parents just a few years later, and loving it completely. I have the same memories of Good Morning, Vietnam. And Hook. (Oh, Peter Pan! Why did you have to grow up?!) I watched Mrs. Doubtfire and Jumanji over and over, just because of the way it delighted both the boy and the man in me at the same time.
And I've seen Dead Poets Society so many times I can practically quote the whole movie. I don't know when I'll be able to watch that one again now. At the very least, I know I'll never be able to see it the same way again.
Maybe it's because it was apparently a suicide? It's possible. Might be the connection to my own mother's death. But I haven't reacted this way to other suicides or overdoses, so why this one? Maybe it's just the fact that suicide adds that final crack of heartbreak to the story. We didn't just lose one of the greats forever; we lost him to himself, to his own demons, to his own sickness. It feels like there must've been something that could've saved him. It feels like it didn't have to end this way. And it touches us all because, let's face it, haven't each and every one of us been there, or somewhere close to it, at least once in our lives? But if we could survive it, then why couldn't he?
I think it's true that there are few things more sad in this life, than a funny man, with a broken heart. His mentor, Jonathan Winters, knew that only too well. But he survived it anyways. It's too bad he couldn't be there to help his friend, who clearly needed him more than anyone knew.
Like so, so many of us today, I feel the need to pour my heart out to the memory of this funny man, who's been there my whole life, in some vain and desperate attempt to figure out just what in the fuck it means to live without him now.
Below, I've collected some of my favorites that other people have been sharing today. Some are funny, some are poignant, some are heart-breaking. But they all made me feel something. And that's helped, at least a little.
Here's hoping it can do the same for any of you.
Every time I hear a siren I still say "that's my ride." Thank you Robin Williams. I wish your ride had not arrived.
— John Hodgman (@hodgman) August 11, 2014
 |
| Spontaneous tribute appearing at the bench in Boston, made famous from the scene in Good Will Hunting. |
We mourn
the loss of our friend Robin Williams, who always made us laugh and
smile. pic.twitter.com/UOY8LTjVRA
—
Sesame Street (@sesamestreet) August
11, 2014
"Robin Williams is not dead, he is just waiting in the jungle until somebody rolls a 5 or 8." -testingonetwothreetesting, via imgur
"One of the funniest people alive died from sadness." - chili1179, via imgur
Nanu
nanu.
— SarcasticRover (@SarcasticRover) August
11, 2014
Come on in Rob. I got
you.
— Jesus Christ (@jesus) August
11, 2014
 |
| The first comment on this image, from NancyNevada, I think says it all: "When Peter Pan dies, don't tell us to grow up." |
Goodbye pal.
Thanks for everything.
— Louis C.K. (@louisck) August
12, 2014
 |
| This was reportedly posted to Disney's FB page this morning. Heart-wrenching. |
"But
doctor, I AM Pagliacci."
That's the
only way this makes sense. Can't stand thinking of him being
that sad. #RIPRobinWilliams
—
Patton Oswalt (@pattonoswalt) August
11, 2014
And finally, this is how I always want to remember him:
Your barbaric YAWP! was heard around the world, sir, and inspired MILLIONS.
And you will always be my captain.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sandy...
So, yeah, we got hit by a hurricane the other day.
Not a very common occurrence around here, so people didn't really know how to respond. Most people seemed to either over-react or under-react. With little experience to draw from, it was hard to determine the appropriate response.
We bought a few supplies, and then just hunkered down and watched movies for the day.
In the end, we got through it just fine. It was loud and scary at times, but all it managed to do was rattle our windows. No flooding, no damage, and we never lost power. About 100,000 other people in our county weren't as lucky as us. All of our friends and family seem to have come through it just as unscathed as we did though (favorite lilac bushes notwithstanding), so all-in-all we feel really lucky and grateful.
The only negative consequence I suffered was a minor emotional one. There's this farm I pass by on my way South out of town that I've always really liked for one particular reason. In the middle of this large farm field by the side of the highway, about three hundred yards away from the road, there is this one large, lone hill sticking up from the ground. And on the very top of that hill, silhouetted against the sky, stood a large, twisted tree. I've always loved that image for some reason. I would be sure to look at it for as long as possible every time I drove by, and I always appreciated it in some way I can't really define. It was iconic to me, somehow. I really loved it, and I looked forward to seeing it. When I drove to work yesterday, after the storm, I looked for it again, but it was gone.
Just a little thing, really. But now that it's gone, I can't help but feel sad. Again, I can't really say why. I'm just sad knowing that I'll never get to see it again. Never again get to feel that strange feeling it gave me every time I looked at it. I miss it.
But as far as hurricane damage goes, that is getting off lucky. And how.
Not a very common occurrence around here, so people didn't really know how to respond. Most people seemed to either over-react or under-react. With little experience to draw from, it was hard to determine the appropriate response.
We bought a few supplies, and then just hunkered down and watched movies for the day.
In the end, we got through it just fine. It was loud and scary at times, but all it managed to do was rattle our windows. No flooding, no damage, and we never lost power. About 100,000 other people in our county weren't as lucky as us. All of our friends and family seem to have come through it just as unscathed as we did though (favorite lilac bushes notwithstanding), so all-in-all we feel really lucky and grateful.
The only negative consequence I suffered was a minor emotional one. There's this farm I pass by on my way South out of town that I've always really liked for one particular reason. In the middle of this large farm field by the side of the highway, about three hundred yards away from the road, there is this one large, lone hill sticking up from the ground. And on the very top of that hill, silhouetted against the sky, stood a large, twisted tree. I've always loved that image for some reason. I would be sure to look at it for as long as possible every time I drove by, and I always appreciated it in some way I can't really define. It was iconic to me, somehow. I really loved it, and I looked forward to seeing it. When I drove to work yesterday, after the storm, I looked for it again, but it was gone.
Just a little thing, really. But now that it's gone, I can't help but feel sad. Again, I can't really say why. I'm just sad knowing that I'll never get to see it again. Never again get to feel that strange feeling it gave me every time I looked at it. I miss it.
But as far as hurricane damage goes, that is getting off lucky. And how.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Eleven Years...
Eleven years ago today, we were packing to leave the beach.
Princess and I, and two of our friends, had just spent a lovely post-Labor Day week at my grandfather's beach cottage in Delaware, and our vacation was over, and we spent the morning packing up to return to our "normal" lives. (I didn't know it at the time, but that was the last time I would ever set foot in that cottage on the beach, where I had spent part of every summer of my entire life up to that point.) When we were finally ready to leave, and packing up the car, I turned my cell phone back on for the first time since I'd arrived a week earlier. About a minute later, I found I had a dozen voicemails from my father, all from that morning. I decided to see what all the fuss was about, and heard recording after recording of my father telling me that the United States was under attack, to turn on the TV, and whatever I do, not to come home.
We hadn't turned on the TV once the entire week. When we finally turned it on that morning, we were all horrified, and dumbstruck. And as we stood there, watching the towers burning, I remember thinking to myself, with odd clarity, That son-of-a-bitch is going to use this as an excuse to invade Iraq. My hand to gods, that exact thought crossed my mind, followed immediately by, No - no way - that's ridiculous - even he wouldn't do something that horrible.
We decided to stay another day, because no one was quite sure what was going on at that point, and it just felt a lot safer out there in that sleepy town on the seashore, then back home, next-door to D.C. That was one of the most surreal days of my life. We were glued to the TV all day, watching what looked like Hell Come To The U.S. But where we were, it was a beautiful, just absolutely gorgeous late-Summer day. It could not have been more peaceful, or serene. It produced a strange sort of cognitive dissonance that permeated the entire day for all of us. Nothing we did felt right - if it fit with the scene around us, it didn't fit with the way we felt about what we knew was going on at home; and if it fit with how we felt about the attacks, then it seemed really out-of-place with where we were at the time and what we were experiencing just then.
Not knowing what else to do, we partied that night like it was the end of the world. We did shots and got wasted and played Truth-or-Dare until we were all drunk and naked. (Trust me, it was a lot more fun at the time than it sounds now.)
And the next day, we went back home to a world that had completely changed, in ways we would have a hard time understanding or coming to terms with for many years. I still haven't completely come to terms with a lot of it.
Addendum: I didn't want to make my post today about this, because I didn't want to be perceived as disrespectful. But I feel like I have to say it, for several reasons. It's just been on my mind a lot lately, and I don't want to bottle it up and pretend it isn't there. And yes, some people might perceive it as disrespectful, but I don't agree with that opinion, and if I start basing my decisions about what to say or believe off of what other people might think about it, then I'm lost. In my opinion, today is the most appropriate time to address it; the only appropriate time to address it, really. It would seem oddly out of place on any other day, and waiting until next year will not have changed anything one way or the other, and by then I might have forgotten it, and lost the opportunity to express these feelings for good.
Let me preface this further by saying, I am not a conspiracy theorist. I do believe that conspiracies can and do occur, but I am also a skeptic by nature, and 99% of the conspiracy theories I hear are clearly, demonstrably, ridiculous. However, that said, there is something about the official story of what happened that day that has just never sat right with me. I know a lot of people are going to consider me an ignorant, monstrous anti-patriot for saying this, but that doesn't change the way it appears to me.
I have never believed the story of United 93.
I am truly, truly sorry if that bothers you in any way. I don't want to upset anyone, and that certainly has nothing to do with why I'm writing this here. But it also doesn't do anything to change my perception of the situation, either.
It just always struck me as too neat, too tidy, too... American. It's like something out of a storybook, or a fairytale. Or a Hollywood movie. It's just too perfect to be real. The fact that they just happened to be lucky enough to crash in an uninhabited area. The fact that the one plane that didn't hit its target just happened to be the last one, and just happened to be the one headed for the White House. The fact that on that day, of all days, for this story that is fairly dripping with patriotism and Americans-Are-The-Greatest glory to come out, from the government, has just been a little hard for me to swallow. From the first time I heard it, it has felt exactly like the "your dog went to live on a farm upstate" story a father would tell to his child.
I tend to follow the "Occam's Razor" style-guide when it comes to conspiracy theories: the simplest explanation is the most likely. That's one of the many reasons why I've never believed that 9/11 was an "inside job" (even though it would've felt so good to blame Cheney and Rumsfeld for it); the idea that the federal government could organize a conspiracy on that massive a scale is simply ludicrous, and laughably so.
But the idea that they might shoot down a passenger plane that they believed was on a suicide mission to crash into the White House, especially after three other planes had already hit their targets, and without knowing how many more there might be? And that if they did, in fact, shoot down that plane, that they might, on such a tragic day, tell us an up-lifting story of everyday American heroism, rather than the truth - that the United States government had been forced to kill some of its own citizens, in order to prevent the murder of far more? Those really just don't seem that far-fetched to me. In fact, they seem kind of plausible.
And the more I've been thinking about it lately, the more I've come to realize, that if that is what happened, I wouldn't even blame them for it.
Even if the U.S. shot down United 93, they wouldn't be responsible for those people's deaths. The terrorists who hijacked that plane, and pointed it at the White House are the ones responsible. There is simply no argument about that. I mean, honestly, what else should the government have done? Let the plane destroy the White House, just so that those Americans on that plane could live another hour? Is there anyone who could truly argue that there was some safe way to quickly bring that plane down without injuring anyone? If the government had the means and opportunity to take down that plane - and I don't think there is any reasonable argument to be made that they didn't - then, if I'm honest with myself, I don't see what other choice they had.
And you know what? I wouldn't even blame them for lying to us about it. Those men and women on that plane are everyday American heroes, no matter how they died. Just like every single person who died in New York or D.C. that day is a hero. Don't they deserve to be remembered as heroes? Don't they deserve better than to be remembered as innocent victims caught in the crossfire between their government and a handful of sick assholes?
Yes, you could make the argument that the lie was self-serving to the ones who told it. And I don't necessarily think you'd be wrong. But I think it's just as true that the lie honors the memories of those men and women in a just way; in a way fitting of Americans who gave their lives, willingly or not, so that others could live.
The official story of United 93 might be a mythology, but they deserve that, and much more. A beautiful mythology to honor their deaths is, literally, the least we can do.
Princess and I, and two of our friends, had just spent a lovely post-Labor Day week at my grandfather's beach cottage in Delaware, and our vacation was over, and we spent the morning packing up to return to our "normal" lives. (I didn't know it at the time, but that was the last time I would ever set foot in that cottage on the beach, where I had spent part of every summer of my entire life up to that point.) When we were finally ready to leave, and packing up the car, I turned my cell phone back on for the first time since I'd arrived a week earlier. About a minute later, I found I had a dozen voicemails from my father, all from that morning. I decided to see what all the fuss was about, and heard recording after recording of my father telling me that the United States was under attack, to turn on the TV, and whatever I do, not to come home.
We hadn't turned on the TV once the entire week. When we finally turned it on that morning, we were all horrified, and dumbstruck. And as we stood there, watching the towers burning, I remember thinking to myself, with odd clarity, That son-of-a-bitch is going to use this as an excuse to invade Iraq. My hand to gods, that exact thought crossed my mind, followed immediately by, No - no way - that's ridiculous - even he wouldn't do something that horrible.
We decided to stay another day, because no one was quite sure what was going on at that point, and it just felt a lot safer out there in that sleepy town on the seashore, then back home, next-door to D.C. That was one of the most surreal days of my life. We were glued to the TV all day, watching what looked like Hell Come To The U.S. But where we were, it was a beautiful, just absolutely gorgeous late-Summer day. It could not have been more peaceful, or serene. It produced a strange sort of cognitive dissonance that permeated the entire day for all of us. Nothing we did felt right - if it fit with the scene around us, it didn't fit with the way we felt about what we knew was going on at home; and if it fit with how we felt about the attacks, then it seemed really out-of-place with where we were at the time and what we were experiencing just then.
Not knowing what else to do, we partied that night like it was the end of the world. We did shots and got wasted and played Truth-or-Dare until we were all drunk and naked. (Trust me, it was a lot more fun at the time than it sounds now.)
And the next day, we went back home to a world that had completely changed, in ways we would have a hard time understanding or coming to terms with for many years. I still haven't completely come to terms with a lot of it.
Addendum: I didn't want to make my post today about this, because I didn't want to be perceived as disrespectful. But I feel like I have to say it, for several reasons. It's just been on my mind a lot lately, and I don't want to bottle it up and pretend it isn't there. And yes, some people might perceive it as disrespectful, but I don't agree with that opinion, and if I start basing my decisions about what to say or believe off of what other people might think about it, then I'm lost. In my opinion, today is the most appropriate time to address it; the only appropriate time to address it, really. It would seem oddly out of place on any other day, and waiting until next year will not have changed anything one way or the other, and by then I might have forgotten it, and lost the opportunity to express these feelings for good.
Let me preface this further by saying, I am not a conspiracy theorist. I do believe that conspiracies can and do occur, but I am also a skeptic by nature, and 99% of the conspiracy theories I hear are clearly, demonstrably, ridiculous. However, that said, there is something about the official story of what happened that day that has just never sat right with me. I know a lot of people are going to consider me an ignorant, monstrous anti-patriot for saying this, but that doesn't change the way it appears to me.
I have never believed the story of United 93.
I am truly, truly sorry if that bothers you in any way. I don't want to upset anyone, and that certainly has nothing to do with why I'm writing this here. But it also doesn't do anything to change my perception of the situation, either.
It just always struck me as too neat, too tidy, too... American. It's like something out of a storybook, or a fairytale. Or a Hollywood movie. It's just too perfect to be real. The fact that they just happened to be lucky enough to crash in an uninhabited area. The fact that the one plane that didn't hit its target just happened to be the last one, and just happened to be the one headed for the White House. The fact that on that day, of all days, for this story that is fairly dripping with patriotism and Americans-Are-The-Greatest glory to come out, from the government, has just been a little hard for me to swallow. From the first time I heard it, it has felt exactly like the "your dog went to live on a farm upstate" story a father would tell to his child.
I tend to follow the "Occam's Razor" style-guide when it comes to conspiracy theories: the simplest explanation is the most likely. That's one of the many reasons why I've never believed that 9/11 was an "inside job" (even though it would've felt so good to blame Cheney and Rumsfeld for it); the idea that the federal government could organize a conspiracy on that massive a scale is simply ludicrous, and laughably so.
But the idea that they might shoot down a passenger plane that they believed was on a suicide mission to crash into the White House, especially after three other planes had already hit their targets, and without knowing how many more there might be? And that if they did, in fact, shoot down that plane, that they might, on such a tragic day, tell us an up-lifting story of everyday American heroism, rather than the truth - that the United States government had been forced to kill some of its own citizens, in order to prevent the murder of far more? Those really just don't seem that far-fetched to me. In fact, they seem kind of plausible.
And the more I've been thinking about it lately, the more I've come to realize, that if that is what happened, I wouldn't even blame them for it.
Even if the U.S. shot down United 93, they wouldn't be responsible for those people's deaths. The terrorists who hijacked that plane, and pointed it at the White House are the ones responsible. There is simply no argument about that. I mean, honestly, what else should the government have done? Let the plane destroy the White House, just so that those Americans on that plane could live another hour? Is there anyone who could truly argue that there was some safe way to quickly bring that plane down without injuring anyone? If the government had the means and opportunity to take down that plane - and I don't think there is any reasonable argument to be made that they didn't - then, if I'm honest with myself, I don't see what other choice they had.
And you know what? I wouldn't even blame them for lying to us about it. Those men and women on that plane are everyday American heroes, no matter how they died. Just like every single person who died in New York or D.C. that day is a hero. Don't they deserve to be remembered as heroes? Don't they deserve better than to be remembered as innocent victims caught in the crossfire between their government and a handful of sick assholes?
Yes, you could make the argument that the lie was self-serving to the ones who told it. And I don't necessarily think you'd be wrong. But I think it's just as true that the lie honors the memories of those men and women in a just way; in a way fitting of Americans who gave their lives, willingly or not, so that others could live.
The official story of United 93 might be a mythology, but they deserve that, and much more. A beautiful mythology to honor their deaths is, literally, the least we can do.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Curiosity...
In just a hair under a week, humanity will have landed a third mobile robot on another planet.
On Monday, August 6th, at around 1:30a EST, the "mobile science lab" rover named Curiosity will land in Gale Crater, on Mars. Mars has very little atmosphere with which to slow down a robot the size of an SUV as it plummets to the surface from outer space, and so landing the rover has become a famously complicated endeavor dubbed, "The Seven Minutes of Terror." It is one of the single most complicated operations ever undertaken by Mankind, and it's an all-or-nothing deal; if any one thing goes wrong at any point, then the whole process will fail, and the rover will slam into Mars at several thousand mph, creating a new surface feature, Curiosity Crater. (Take five minutes and watch NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory's video explanation of the Seven Minutes of Terror here. You'll be glad you did.)
If it lands safely (and it is far from guaranteed to do so - no one's ever done it before, and it is impossible to create on Earth the conditions necessary to accurately test it), then it will spend the next several years (dare I say, decades?) roaming about the planet Mars, searching for evidence that life has ever existed on the red planet.
I'm having a hard time trying to figure out how exactly to explain why this fascinates me so much. I think for starters, it is simply an amazing thing, when you stop and think about it. Purely amazing. We are controlling robots on Mars. How fucking unbelievable is that?! Robots on Mars. It sounds like a science-fiction story. And it is! Except, it's not fiction. It's fantasy, brought to life.
And I think it also has something to do with something I touched on yesterday. It is a "living" example of the incredible, awe-inspiring things that human-beings can accomplish. How can it be that a bunch of balding monkeys could so quickly push themselves to the point that we're firing off robots to explore other planets? It boggles the mind!
What a piece of work is Man! Look what we can do! So what if no one has ever done it before. That's precisely why it must be done! From the moment the first of us picked up a rock and used it to smash open a nut (or a skull), our single purpose has been to learn, to discover, and to do the things that have not yet been done. Every single one of us for the last 200,000 years has done our part to push forward that line of what-is-possible, even just a little bit, in our own way. It is what we do. It is all we do.
And, in just a hair under a week, we're going to do it again, in a big, big way. And I will no doubt find myself once again struck dumb with awe at the notion of all that we are capable of achieving. We are, each and every one of us, absolutely, fucking, amazing.
Just look what we can do.
On Monday, August 6th, at around 1:30a EST, the "mobile science lab" rover named Curiosity will land in Gale Crater, on Mars. Mars has very little atmosphere with which to slow down a robot the size of an SUV as it plummets to the surface from outer space, and so landing the rover has become a famously complicated endeavor dubbed, "The Seven Minutes of Terror." It is one of the single most complicated operations ever undertaken by Mankind, and it's an all-or-nothing deal; if any one thing goes wrong at any point, then the whole process will fail, and the rover will slam into Mars at several thousand mph, creating a new surface feature, Curiosity Crater. (Take five minutes and watch NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory's video explanation of the Seven Minutes of Terror here. You'll be glad you did.)
If it lands safely (and it is far from guaranteed to do so - no one's ever done it before, and it is impossible to create on Earth the conditions necessary to accurately test it), then it will spend the next several years (dare I say, decades?) roaming about the planet Mars, searching for evidence that life has ever existed on the red planet.
I'm having a hard time trying to figure out how exactly to explain why this fascinates me so much. I think for starters, it is simply an amazing thing, when you stop and think about it. Purely amazing. We are controlling robots on Mars. How fucking unbelievable is that?! Robots on Mars. It sounds like a science-fiction story. And it is! Except, it's not fiction. It's fantasy, brought to life.
And I think it also has something to do with something I touched on yesterday. It is a "living" example of the incredible, awe-inspiring things that human-beings can accomplish. How can it be that a bunch of balding monkeys could so quickly push themselves to the point that we're firing off robots to explore other planets? It boggles the mind!
What a piece of work is Man! Look what we can do! So what if no one has ever done it before. That's precisely why it must be done! From the moment the first of us picked up a rock and used it to smash open a nut (or a skull), our single purpose has been to learn, to discover, and to do the things that have not yet been done. Every single one of us for the last 200,000 years has done our part to push forward that line of what-is-possible, even just a little bit, in our own way. It is what we do. It is all we do.
And, in just a hair under a week, we're going to do it again, in a big, big way. And I will no doubt find myself once again struck dumb with awe at the notion of all that we are capable of achieving. We are, each and every one of us, absolutely, fucking, amazing.
Just look what we can do.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Life on Mars?!...
"Scientists have discovered life on Mars."
Dozing on the couch early this morning, between snooze alarms, I hear that sentence come from the newscast on my television, and I am instantly awake. My eyes pop open and I sit bolt-upright, throwing the blanket off my chest.
"Scientists are now saying they believe a lander sent over 30 years ago actually did discover life on Mars. Now, this isn't the little-green-men kind of life, but they say they have found evidence of biological activity on the Red Planet. In other news..."
"That's IT?!"
I'm all at once astounded, amazed, and outraged. We found life on another fucking planet - and not just any other planet, but one of the closest planets to us - and it gets a less-than-10-second blurb between the Weather and the latest update on the Gingrich "campaign"? What the fuck is wrong with that picture?!
Finding life on Mars is a HUUUGE deal! Astronomically huge, you could say, pun completely intended. Because, first of all, finding any life anywhere else would change everything we now know about our place in the universe. It would change the entire outlook of every single religion practiced by humanity! For the first time in the entire history of life on Earth, we would know that we are not alone! So, yeah, kind of a big deal.
But then to find life on Mars, specifically, would increase the importance of that discovery by an order of magnitude. Because it could mean one of two things: either, A) life actually began on Mars, and later traveled to Earth, essentially changing our entire concept of the origin of our species (for instance, a large asteroid slams into Mars, blowing chunks of it out into space, which later hit Earth as meteorites [we've already found Martian-meteorites in Antarctica]; and some of the bacteria or other organisms on some of those Martian-meteorites could've survived the trip, essentially becoming "seeds" that later flowered in our environment); or B) if life actually formed on two-out-of-eight planets in our incredibly-ordinary-solar-system - if we found evidence of a second genesis right next-door to us - then life must be incredibly common in the universe.
So hopefully you can understand why I'm a little upset that they didn't think this story warranted more than just a headline.
I have to know more. So I grab my laptop and start searching the news feeds. Doesn't take long to find an article that goes into a lot more depth. And I'm disappointed (though, I hate to say, not surprised) to discover that once again, the media has simultaneously dumbed-down and overblown another science story.
No one has discovered any life on Mars. The actual story, beyond the sensational headline, turns out to be that a team of mathematicians took another look at the hard-copy data of the soil samples taken by the two Viking landers back in 1976. They analyzed these numbers to determine their level of complexity, using a new theory that biological systems are much more complex than non-biological ones. And, using this new theory, they found data that was so complex, that they believe the only explanation is that it shows evidence of biological life-forms.
So, at most, what they've actually discovered is evidence of the possibility of some sort of biology on Mars, at some point. Hardly the same thing as finding "life on Mars." But then on top of that, this mathematical-complexity-theory of biological systems that they've based all of their findings on, hasn't even been proven to work on Earth! So all of their findings are based on a method that they haven't even proven yet!
How in the fuck do you get from "mathematicians have used an unproven theory on 36 year-old data to suggest the possibility that life may have existed on Mars at some point" to "Scientists have discovered life on Mars?!"
Unfortunately, this is something I see time and again from the mainstream news media. They did it with the whole "Large Hadron Collider May Create Black Hole and Destroy Earth" story (no, it won't). And they did it again recently with the "Scientists Have Discovered Particles Traveling Faster Than Light" story (no, they didn't). They never report actual scientific findings. Instead, at the barest hint of only the most sensational stories (black holes gobbling up the planet, speed-of-light barrier broken, life on Mars, etc.) they jump all over it, remove anything resembling context, evidence, or truth, and splash the tabloid-esque headline across the front page or the evening newscast: "Bat Boy Found on Mars Travelling Faster Than Light! 'Trying to Destroy Earth,' Say 'Scientists'!"
Ugh.
It's mornings like this that I weep for my species.
< /nerdrant >
Dozing on the couch early this morning, between snooze alarms, I hear that sentence come from the newscast on my television, and I am instantly awake. My eyes pop open and I sit bolt-upright, throwing the blanket off my chest.
"Scientists are now saying they believe a lander sent over 30 years ago actually did discover life on Mars. Now, this isn't the little-green-men kind of life, but they say they have found evidence of biological activity on the Red Planet. In other news..."
"That's IT?!"
I'm all at once astounded, amazed, and outraged. We found life on another fucking planet - and not just any other planet, but one of the closest planets to us - and it gets a less-than-10-second blurb between the Weather and the latest update on the Gingrich "campaign"? What the fuck is wrong with that picture?!
Finding life on Mars is a HUUUGE deal! Astronomically huge, you could say, pun completely intended. Because, first of all, finding any life anywhere else would change everything we now know about our place in the universe. It would change the entire outlook of every single religion practiced by humanity! For the first time in the entire history of life on Earth, we would know that we are not alone! So, yeah, kind of a big deal.
But then to find life on Mars, specifically, would increase the importance of that discovery by an order of magnitude. Because it could mean one of two things: either, A) life actually began on Mars, and later traveled to Earth, essentially changing our entire concept of the origin of our species (for instance, a large asteroid slams into Mars, blowing chunks of it out into space, which later hit Earth as meteorites [we've already found Martian-meteorites in Antarctica]; and some of the bacteria or other organisms on some of those Martian-meteorites could've survived the trip, essentially becoming "seeds" that later flowered in our environment); or B) if life actually formed on two-out-of-eight planets in our incredibly-ordinary-solar-system - if we found evidence of a second genesis right next-door to us - then life must be incredibly common in the universe.
So hopefully you can understand why I'm a little upset that they didn't think this story warranted more than just a headline.
I have to know more. So I grab my laptop and start searching the news feeds. Doesn't take long to find an article that goes into a lot more depth. And I'm disappointed (though, I hate to say, not surprised) to discover that once again, the media has simultaneously dumbed-down and overblown another science story.
No one has discovered any life on Mars. The actual story, beyond the sensational headline, turns out to be that a team of mathematicians took another look at the hard-copy data of the soil samples taken by the two Viking landers back in 1976. They analyzed these numbers to determine their level of complexity, using a new theory that biological systems are much more complex than non-biological ones. And, using this new theory, they found data that was so complex, that they believe the only explanation is that it shows evidence of biological life-forms.
So, at most, what they've actually discovered is evidence of the possibility of some sort of biology on Mars, at some point. Hardly the same thing as finding "life on Mars." But then on top of that, this mathematical-complexity-theory of biological systems that they've based all of their findings on, hasn't even been proven to work on Earth! So all of their findings are based on a method that they haven't even proven yet!
How in the fuck do you get from "mathematicians have used an unproven theory on 36 year-old data to suggest the possibility that life may have existed on Mars at some point" to "Scientists have discovered life on Mars?!"
Unfortunately, this is something I see time and again from the mainstream news media. They did it with the whole "Large Hadron Collider May Create Black Hole and Destroy Earth" story (no, it won't). And they did it again recently with the "Scientists Have Discovered Particles Traveling Faster Than Light" story (no, they didn't). They never report actual scientific findings. Instead, at the barest hint of only the most sensational stories (black holes gobbling up the planet, speed-of-light barrier broken, life on Mars, etc.) they jump all over it, remove anything resembling context, evidence, or truth, and splash the tabloid-esque headline across the front page or the evening newscast: "Bat Boy Found on Mars Travelling Faster Than Light! 'Trying to Destroy Earth,' Say 'Scientists'!"
Ugh.
It's mornings like this that I weep for my species.
< /nerdrant >
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