"Watching the Space Race: The Ley of Space" is up at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
24 January 2012: Feast of Bl. Onufry Wasyluk.
Showing posts with label science. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science. Show all posts
"The World Got Smaller" at Rocket Science.
"Watching the Space Race: The World Got Smaller" is up at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
23 January 2012: Feast of St. Abakuh.
"An Orb in Space" at Rocket Science.
"An Orb in Space" is up over at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
14 January 2012: Feast of St. Barbasymas.
"Well, One Worked." at Rocket Science.
"Well, One worked" is up over at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
13 January 2012: Feast of St. Gumesindus.
"Hidden Under the Tree" at Rocket Science
12 January 2012: Feast of Bl. John Gaspard Cratz.
"Why All of the Sudden?" at Rocket Science.
"Watching the Space Race: Why All of the Sudden" is up over at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
10 December 2011: Feast of St. Peter Duong.
"Watching the Space Race: Finally!" at Rocket Science.
"Watching the Space Race: Finally! America Enters the Race with Explorer" up over at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
3 December 2011: Feast of St. Cassian of Tangier.
"A Pratfall to the Stars" on Rocket Science.
"A Pratfall to the Stars" is up over on Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
26 November 2011: Feast of St. Faustus.
"A Light in the October Sky" up at Rocket Science.
My post, "A Light in the October Sky," is up over at Karina Fabian's blog, Rocket Science for the Rest of Us.
24 November 2011: Feast of St. Joachim Ho.
"Writing the Alien Alien" up on CWG Blog
"Writing the Alien Alien" is up of the Catholic Writers' Guild Blog.
19 July 2011: Feast of St. Aurea.
Atheists, Extraterrestrials, and St. Francis.
When an avowed atheist dies, I privately say a prayer for them and those who loved them. I fail to see the harm in this because if they are right, it won't matter and if I am, they're probably going to need some help. I have had a Mass said for their repose occasionally, usually naming them simply as "a friend." After all, Jesus'll know who I mean. Whether it helps them or not, I may find out when I report in, I suppose. And there will indeed be rejoicing if they meet me where I want to go. One thing there won't be if we meet up. There will be no "I told you so" on my part--I don't believe in it. If I'm right, they'll know it, and if I'm wrong...well, that'll take care of itself.
For some reason, some folks are of the opinion that finding extraterrestrial life will prove the nonexistence of God. I'm not sure I follow their reasoning. My reaction to the discovery of extraterrestrial life as far as the existence of the Lord is something along the lines of "Yeah? So?" I see no reason why God couldn't have life other than that on our little blue dot. After all, He's God--He can do any dang thing He pleases (one of the fringe benefits of being The All Mighty).
One problem I think they have is that they are attempting to set up a strawman based on their mental construct of an entity they accept as not existing. At this point, the exercise begins to resemble the "Seinfeld" show--a show basically about nothing. Well, I must admit, they have faith if nothing else.
The second problem I see with the product the evangelical atheist pushes is that they really have no product. On the matter of what happens just before the first shovelful of dirt hits the top of the coffin, they say believers are offered "pie-in-the-sky." And they offer...what? My opinion only, but that pie may just taste better than their mouthful of dust.
So we will go our ways. Me sorry that they risk their immortal souls and them sorry I risk...again, what?
But, then, who am I to look askance at my betters? I'm just a poor, credulous peasant trying to get through life the best I can. So eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow may be--Fantastic!
Review (Note to FTC: Bought it myself, troops.)
The Mountains of Saint Francis: Discovering the Geologic Events that Shaped Our Earth by Walter Alvarez. W.W. Norton & Company, 2008.
Being as it's the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi and I like rocks, I figured I'd troll this book by a member of the twosome that gave us the Cretaceous asteroid hit theory (Alvarez the younger) past for your consideration. It is a study of the undersea formation of the Appennine Mountains' limestone and their quarries--where Michelangelo worked as a pup--, the volcanic seven hills of Rome, and the evaporation of the Mediterranean Sea (you can't say things weren't exciting in that part of the world).
The book requires no real knowledge of structural geology and is written on a public high school level (Catholic middle school level). Alvarez is a good writer and makes the geology enjoyable.
4 October 2010: Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. Pope Gregory XIII implements Gregorian Calendar 1582, Battle of Germantown 1777, First run of the Orient Express 1883, Sputnik I launched 1957.
For some reason, some folks are of the opinion that finding extraterrestrial life will prove the nonexistence of God. I'm not sure I follow their reasoning. My reaction to the discovery of extraterrestrial life as far as the existence of the Lord is something along the lines of "Yeah? So?" I see no reason why God couldn't have life other than that on our little blue dot. After all, He's God--He can do any dang thing He pleases (one of the fringe benefits of being The All Mighty).
One problem I think they have is that they are attempting to set up a strawman based on their mental construct of an entity they accept as not existing. At this point, the exercise begins to resemble the "Seinfeld" show--a show basically about nothing. Well, I must admit, they have faith if nothing else.
The second problem I see with the product the evangelical atheist pushes is that they really have no product. On the matter of what happens just before the first shovelful of dirt hits the top of the coffin, they say believers are offered "pie-in-the-sky." And they offer...what? My opinion only, but that pie may just taste better than their mouthful of dust.
So we will go our ways. Me sorry that they risk their immortal souls and them sorry I risk...again, what?
But, then, who am I to look askance at my betters? I'm just a poor, credulous peasant trying to get through life the best I can. So eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow may be--Fantastic!
Review (Note to FTC: Bought it myself, troops.)
The Mountains of Saint Francis: Discovering the Geologic Events that Shaped Our Earth by Walter Alvarez. W.W. Norton & Company, 2008.
Being as it's the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi and I like rocks, I figured I'd troll this book by a member of the twosome that gave us the Cretaceous asteroid hit theory (Alvarez the younger) past for your consideration. It is a study of the undersea formation of the Appennine Mountains' limestone and their quarries--where Michelangelo worked as a pup--, the volcanic seven hills of Rome, and the evaporation of the Mediterranean Sea (you can't say things weren't exciting in that part of the world).
The book requires no real knowledge of structural geology and is written on a public high school level (Catholic middle school level). Alvarez is a good writer and makes the geology enjoyable.
4 October 2010: Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. Pope Gregory XIII implements Gregorian Calendar 1582, Battle of Germantown 1777, First run of the Orient Express 1883, Sputnik I launched 1957.
Early Burials of Priests.
From the paper - Proper timing of priest burial in montane environments: A history and prospectus.
We were kicking grave side services around over on the Catholic Writers' list a while back (we had to because someone who will remain nameless' blasted dragon swallowed our political football) and it reminded me of a grave side service that involved a former boss--call him Kelly. Kelly put himself through art school working as an undertaker at a funeral home in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains.
One time, they had a Catholic burial that included a grave side service. The ground at the cemetery was so rocky the grave had to be dug with a backhoe, resulting in an over-sized hole. To give the priest a place to stand at the head of the coffin, boards covered over with fake grass carpeting were placed around the grave. The priest arrived a few minutes before the family. Father was a bit old-fashioned and wore a biretta. As the family approached from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill, the priest stepped to the head of the coffin and vanished. Kelly and his assistant whirled and looked in all directions. Kelly said that he happened to glance down and there was Father's biretta sticking up out from beneath the coffin. Apparently, the priest had stepped on a spot were two boards had moved apart and gravity took it's course. While his assistant ran down the hill to stop the family, Kelly helped Father from the hole. The service was conducted by the mud bespattered clergyman without further entertainment. According to Kelly, Father took it well, for the most part, remarking that to be a good priest, one had to throw oneself into it. He also said while it (pointing to the grave) was the destination of all, he really hadn't expected to get there quite that fast.
As a Note,
The last passenger pigeon, a female, died in the Cincinnati Zoo on this day in 1914. During the 19th century, single flocks of over 2 billion covering an area of 1 mile (1.6 km) by 300 miles (500 km) were counted (estimated?) during migrations. Rather than being wiped out by sports hunters, they were destroyed by market hunters who shipped boxcar loads the eastern U.S. cities for the restaurant trade . Leaving this country boy with one question: Did y'all enjoy y'all's supper?
Certainly makes one appreciate the conservation work done by and paid for through donations, license fees, and taxes on ammunition by sports hunters through organizations such as Ducks Unlimited and others.
Thus endeth today's lesson.
Also on this day, something happy. Alberta, bringing with it one of the richest dinosaur fossil deposits around the Red Deer River, joined the rest of the Canadian confederation. Oh, yeah, Saskatchewan joined too--but they seem to have a dearth of dinosaurs. If you ever get the chance, check out Drumheller and the Royal Tyrrell Museum.
1 September 2010. Feast of St. Lupus of Sens. Montrose defeats Covenanters in Battle of Tippermuir 1644, Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa founded 1772, Germans capture Emperor Napoleon III of France at Battle of Sedan 1870, Tokyo and Yokohama destroyed by Great Kanto earthquake 1923, Germany invades Poland 1939.
We were kicking grave side services around over on the Catholic Writers' list a while back (we had to because someone who will remain nameless' blasted dragon swallowed our political football) and it reminded me of a grave side service that involved a former boss--call him Kelly. Kelly put himself through art school working as an undertaker at a funeral home in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains.
One time, they had a Catholic burial that included a grave side service. The ground at the cemetery was so rocky the grave had to be dug with a backhoe, resulting in an over-sized hole. To give the priest a place to stand at the head of the coffin, boards covered over with fake grass carpeting were placed around the grave. The priest arrived a few minutes before the family. Father was a bit old-fashioned and wore a biretta. As the family approached from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill, the priest stepped to the head of the coffin and vanished. Kelly and his assistant whirled and looked in all directions. Kelly said that he happened to glance down and there was Father's biretta sticking up out from beneath the coffin. Apparently, the priest had stepped on a spot were two boards had moved apart and gravity took it's course. While his assistant ran down the hill to stop the family, Kelly helped Father from the hole. The service was conducted by the mud bespattered clergyman without further entertainment. According to Kelly, Father took it well, for the most part, remarking that to be a good priest, one had to throw oneself into it. He also said while it (pointing to the grave) was the destination of all, he really hadn't expected to get there quite that fast.
As a Note,
The last passenger pigeon, a female, died in the Cincinnati Zoo on this day in 1914. During the 19th century, single flocks of over 2 billion covering an area of 1 mile (1.6 km) by 300 miles (500 km) were counted (estimated?) during migrations. Rather than being wiped out by sports hunters, they were destroyed by market hunters who shipped boxcar loads the eastern U.S. cities for the restaurant trade . Leaving this country boy with one question: Did y'all enjoy y'all's supper?
Certainly makes one appreciate the conservation work done by and paid for through donations, license fees, and taxes on ammunition by sports hunters through organizations such as Ducks Unlimited and others.
Thus endeth today's lesson.
Also on this day, something happy. Alberta, bringing with it one of the richest dinosaur fossil deposits around the Red Deer River, joined the rest of the Canadian confederation. Oh, yeah, Saskatchewan joined too--but they seem to have a dearth of dinosaurs. If you ever get the chance, check out Drumheller and the Royal Tyrrell Museum.
1 September 2010. Feast of St. Lupus of Sens. Montrose defeats Covenanters in Battle of Tippermuir 1644, Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa founded 1772, Germans capture Emperor Napoleon III of France at Battle of Sedan 1870, Tokyo and Yokohama destroyed by Great Kanto earthquake 1923, Germany invades Poland 1939.
Even I couldn't make this up!
This morning, I logged in and did a quick scan of my home page. I checked the weather and time in various places, whether I had any email and the baseball scores, and glanced at the headlines from the various news sources. I then looked at the calendar to make sure it wasn't 1 April and I'd slept eight months (or, conversely, lost four months--in the space-time continuum I appear trapped within, this seems as likely as not). What sparked this sudden interest in things temporal was a headline from the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review to the effect that the Pittsburgh Diocese had sold drilling rights to gas companies so they can drill for natural gas in Catholic cemeteries in western Pennsylvania ("They just drilled through Granny!!!" "Yeah, but she's delivering three hundred cubic foot per minute."). To prove that I neither drank, inhaled, shot-up, or snorted my breakfast (grits and tea by the way), here is the link to the story on this wonderfulness: "Catholic Cemeteries..."
The gas is trapped over a large part of Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, and West Virginia in the Marcellus Shale. Supposedly, a potential 50 trillion cubic feet of natural gas lies in the formation. The problem for the gas companies is that western Pennsylvania is mountainous so they prefer the flat places such as where most normal people like to build their stuff--say, between the ridges.
In the Pittsburgh area, topography laid down the rules of life early on. One was born and lived on the side of the mountain, worked down on the riverside flats, and was carried to the cemetery on top of the mountain at the end. With horses, the heavier the load, the lower on the mountain it stopped. A coffin and cargo was about the most a two horse hearse could get to the top. Of course, this allowed the saying in Pittsburgh, "Everybody gets to the top."
The potential of the Marcellus Shale has people somewhat split. The movers and shakers that run things smell lots and lots of money (taxes, sales, graft, etc.). The rest of the residents are a bit more leery ("You want to put that thing where?!!").
For Catholics such as myself (back-slider though I be), some questions now arise. Must special provisions be taken for the proper handling of gas from consecrated ground? I suppose it's okay to burn it as long as one does so in a proper respectful and religious manner. Maybe Vigil lights will be gas fueled from now on...Hmm, I wonder, should we say an "Our Father" or merely cross ourselves when we turn on the stove.
On another subject...
A nice website for the Daily Office (AKA: Liturgy of the Hours) can be found at Divine Office. Org.
19 August 2010: Feast of St. Bertulf. Battle of Knockdoe 1504, Charles Stuart begins the "Rising of '45" 1745, Lakota set out to attack New Ulm in Minnesota 1862, John Westely Hardin killed in El Paso 1895, first running of the All-American Soap Box Derby in Dayton 1934, liberation of Paris 1944.
The gas is trapped over a large part of Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, and West Virginia in the Marcellus Shale. Supposedly, a potential 50 trillion cubic feet of natural gas lies in the formation. The problem for the gas companies is that western Pennsylvania is mountainous so they prefer the flat places such as where most normal people like to build their stuff--say, between the ridges.
In the Pittsburgh area, topography laid down the rules of life early on. One was born and lived on the side of the mountain, worked down on the riverside flats, and was carried to the cemetery on top of the mountain at the end. With horses, the heavier the load, the lower on the mountain it stopped. A coffin and cargo was about the most a two horse hearse could get to the top. Of course, this allowed the saying in Pittsburgh, "Everybody gets to the top."
The potential of the Marcellus Shale has people somewhat split. The movers and shakers that run things smell lots and lots of money (taxes, sales, graft, etc.). The rest of the residents are a bit more leery ("You want to put that thing where?!!").
For Catholics such as myself (back-slider though I be), some questions now arise. Must special provisions be taken for the proper handling of gas from consecrated ground? I suppose it's okay to burn it as long as one does so in a proper respectful and religious manner. Maybe Vigil lights will be gas fueled from now on...Hmm, I wonder, should we say an "Our Father" or merely cross ourselves when we turn on the stove.
On another subject...
A nice website for the Daily Office (AKA: Liturgy of the Hours) can be found at Divine Office. Org.
19 August 2010: Feast of St. Bertulf. Battle of Knockdoe 1504, Charles Stuart begins the "Rising of '45" 1745, Lakota set out to attack New Ulm in Minnesota 1862, John Westely Hardin killed in El Paso 1895, first running of the All-American Soap Box Derby in Dayton 1934, liberation of Paris 1944.
An Ersatz Answer to All.
Science is a funny way to waste time. Like many disciplines it sometimes appears to advance through a form scientific Oedipus complex. One often advances by attacking the thought of the mentor who taught one. As soon as the top is reached and one trains the next generation, the trainee begins the climb to supplant the teacher.
One of the sure methods is to build on the mentor's work to come up with a hypothesis that better describes an observed phenomenon than that of the teacher's. Hopefully, the hypothesis works well enough to be accepted by most of one's fellows and take on the status of a theory. If the theory is perceived to provide a lasting solution to a question, it can become a "law," often named for its originator.
Like a parent, the originator of a theory can fall in love with the fruit of their loins--er, mind. Their wondrous idea can be "The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything!" It is tried as the answer to any number of problems, whether it has anything in common or not. As the old saw goes, "If one has a hammer, all things look like nails."
What results is the one-size-fits-nobody sort of answer--rather like the cheap one-size-fits-nobody baseball-style caps the Koreans flooded the market with back in the early 80s. While billed as one-size-fits-all, these sartorial disasters must have been wrongly transshipped to Earth instead of their proper destination of Tau Ceti IV as they were apparently designed to fit no human head. At the very best, the over-high crown tended to make those wearing them look like noted sportsman Elmer Fudd.
The search for the "Unified Law" so far has been science's version of that for the Holy Grail or, more probably, the philosopher's stone. Who says science isn't a matter of faith? Stay tuned.
Review: (Note to FTC: I bought this danged book myself!)
Storm Front: a Novel of the Dresden Files. Jim Butcher. New york: ROC, 2000.
Coming up with a consistent magic system is one of the things that separates the better fantasy from the good. One of the joys of Harry Dresden's art is that there is a feel of consistency as he works through his incantations and uses his ingredients. Rather than the occasional shift of the method that appears in Rowling for instance, Butcher has, so far, stuck to one apparent system in the two volumes I've read (according to the ladies of the house, this holds true throughout his series).
Harry Dresden, based in a less corrupt Chicago (obviously a different dimension), has the charm of the eternal schlub. No matter what happens to this spell-slinging Sam Spade, you know for him, just getting out with a mostly intact skin is victory. It's a cinch he'll never make the big score and retire to Orlando.
While eeking out a living as a wizard for hire (okay, a "consulting" wizard then), he gets to work on the City's tab just enough to keep from starving. His contact, Sgt. Karrin Murphy, head of the Chicago Police Department's Special Investigations Division (think of a "file 13" for anything that doesn't add up on a material plane) is a tough cop's tough cop and, unlike Agent Scully, admits there are things going on she doesn't understand. Harry's version of the Encyclopedia Arkainia, Bob, is an spirit of the air who resides in a human skull (the previous owner doesn't need it anymore) and when not reeling off lists of ingredients, cooking times, and health warnings--generally about Harry's--is a thorough going letch (as opposed to a litch).
I've only read the first two volumes of the series, Storm Front and Fool Moon, but can say, so far, these are keepers. In fact, I'm a little impatient to get through Lee's Lieutenants [mentioned last time] so I can start on number 3, Grave Peril, which awaits on my Kindle (as of this writing, Harry's lamentable effect on technology newer than 1231 A.D. hasn't manifested itself with my Kindle).
A word about Harry's moral place in the world; like most protagonists in mainline fiction, he is vaguely good to neutral. While Murphy is mostly a believer, Harry is controlled more by a fear of the White Council's reaction to him doing anything untoward magically. In fact, Morgan, their slightly mad enforcer, lusts for the day Harry puts a foot wrong and he gets to execute him (it's hard to not to like a guy who enjoys his work so). Comparing him to the evil he fights, Harry is--to use a phrase of an actor/anthropologist from Betelgeuse--"Mostly harmless."
Catholic Writers Conference Online: 26 February to 5 March 2010
A wise gentleman dressed in green once explained to me that if one wants to do something well, one must learn the drill. Here is a free chance to learn the manual of arms for writers--logical construction, plot, characterization, dialogue, grammar, voice, marketing, making contacts, and pitching--and meet and have fun with fellow writers. All of good will are welcome. Here's the link: http://www.catholicwritersconference.com/index.php .
I'll save you a virtual seat.
12 January 2010: Feast of St. Zoticus of Africa Proconsularis, Basiliscus crowned Byzantine Emperor 475, Royal Aeronautical Society founded in London 1866, Hattie W. Caraway first female U.S. Senator 1932, Biafra surrenders 1970.
One of the sure methods is to build on the mentor's work to come up with a hypothesis that better describes an observed phenomenon than that of the teacher's. Hopefully, the hypothesis works well enough to be accepted by most of one's fellows and take on the status of a theory. If the theory is perceived to provide a lasting solution to a question, it can become a "law," often named for its originator.
Like a parent, the originator of a theory can fall in love with the fruit of their loins--er, mind. Their wondrous idea can be "The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything!" It is tried as the answer to any number of problems, whether it has anything in common or not. As the old saw goes, "If one has a hammer, all things look like nails."
What results is the one-size-fits-nobody sort of answer--rather like the cheap one-size-fits-nobody baseball-style caps the Koreans flooded the market with back in the early 80s. While billed as one-size-fits-all, these sartorial disasters must have been wrongly transshipped to Earth instead of their proper destination of Tau Ceti IV as they were apparently designed to fit no human head. At the very best, the over-high crown tended to make those wearing them look like noted sportsman Elmer Fudd.
The search for the "Unified Law" so far has been science's version of that for the Holy Grail or, more probably, the philosopher's stone. Who says science isn't a matter of faith? Stay tuned.
Review: (Note to FTC: I bought this danged book myself!)
Storm Front: a Novel of the Dresden Files. Jim Butcher. New york: ROC, 2000.
Coming up with a consistent magic system is one of the things that separates the better fantasy from the good. One of the joys of Harry Dresden's art is that there is a feel of consistency as he works through his incantations and uses his ingredients. Rather than the occasional shift of the method that appears in Rowling for instance, Butcher has, so far, stuck to one apparent system in the two volumes I've read (according to the ladies of the house, this holds true throughout his series).
Harry Dresden, based in a less corrupt Chicago (obviously a different dimension), has the charm of the eternal schlub. No matter what happens to this spell-slinging Sam Spade, you know for him, just getting out with a mostly intact skin is victory. It's a cinch he'll never make the big score and retire to Orlando.
While eeking out a living as a wizard for hire (okay, a "consulting" wizard then), he gets to work on the City's tab just enough to keep from starving. His contact, Sgt. Karrin Murphy, head of the Chicago Police Department's Special Investigations Division (think of a "file 13" for anything that doesn't add up on a material plane) is a tough cop's tough cop and, unlike Agent Scully, admits there are things going on she doesn't understand. Harry's version of the Encyclopedia Arkainia, Bob, is an spirit of the air who resides in a human skull (the previous owner doesn't need it anymore) and when not reeling off lists of ingredients, cooking times, and health warnings--generally about Harry's--is a thorough going letch (as opposed to a litch).
I've only read the first two volumes of the series, Storm Front and Fool Moon, but can say, so far, these are keepers. In fact, I'm a little impatient to get through Lee's Lieutenants [mentioned last time] so I can start on number 3, Grave Peril, which awaits on my Kindle (as of this writing, Harry's lamentable effect on technology newer than 1231 A.D. hasn't manifested itself with my Kindle).
A word about Harry's moral place in the world; like most protagonists in mainline fiction, he is vaguely good to neutral. While Murphy is mostly a believer, Harry is controlled more by a fear of the White Council's reaction to him doing anything untoward magically. In fact, Morgan, their slightly mad enforcer, lusts for the day Harry puts a foot wrong and he gets to execute him (it's hard to not to like a guy who enjoys his work so). Comparing him to the evil he fights, Harry is--to use a phrase of an actor/anthropologist from Betelgeuse--"Mostly harmless."
Catholic Writers Conference Online: 26 February to 5 March 2010
A wise gentleman dressed in green once explained to me that if one wants to do something well, one must learn the drill. Here is a free chance to learn the manual of arms for writers--logical construction, plot, characterization, dialogue, grammar, voice, marketing, making contacts, and pitching--and meet and have fun with fellow writers. All of good will are welcome. Here's the link: http://www.catholicwritersconference.com/index.php .
I'll save you a virtual seat.
12 January 2010: Feast of St. Zoticus of Africa Proconsularis, Basiliscus crowned Byzantine Emperor 475, Royal Aeronautical Society founded in London 1866, Hattie W. Caraway first female U.S. Senator 1932, Biafra surrenders 1970.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
