Category Archives: Blogs' Archive

Paleontologists in Siberia have uncovered something spectacular.
It’s a bracelet. A bracelet made of green stone. It’s 40,000 years old which, apparently, is much older than any other bracelets they’ve ever found, and that surprises me because agriculture goes back 65,000 years and you’d think by the time people started settling down to that extent, adornment would have been common.
But, to me, that’s not the exciting part. It’s like when they discover a new star, it’s no longer fascinating to me when they say “farthest ever” or ‘largest ever.” They’re discovering new planets at a steady pace, and until they actually hit on one with intelligent life, it’s not really a story.

The cool part to me is that these were not made by Homo Sapiens, but by Denisovans. They were, like the Neanerthals, a species of human which wasn’t exactly us. I’m a bit confused about the nomenclature. If they were like us, and capable of interbreeding with us, then they were another race, and not another species. Our killing off of the Denisovans, and the Neanderthals, might be one of the reasons aliens don’t want to talk to us.
“Geez, what a bunch of dicks,” they must be saying.It makes our modern holocausts – against the Jews, against the Armenians, against the American Indians, all seem like child’s play.

It is such an accepted axiom of existence, such an unquestioned platitude, such a mainstay of new age spiritualism, that I say it without even thinking about it.
Everything in the universe is interconnected.
So, I’m using tonight’s blog to challenge the premise.
Sure, at some deep, reductio ad absurdum logical base, the case can be made. We are all made of atoms, every physical thing in the universe is made of atoms, we are all subject to the same physical laws and the whole meshugas was created in the big bang about 18 million years ago, presumably on a Tuesday. But that is not interconnectedness, that is merely co-existence. I have interconnectedness with my family, and a handful of friends. I have co-existence with my neighbors.
The question really should be “How is everything in the universe interconnected,” because coming up with an answer to that question would be something useful; it’s what Sean Connery, in’Finding Forrester’ called ‘a soup question.’
First, there is more than one possible interpretation of the word ‘how?’ Is the how as in how interconnected, tightly or loosely, passionately or indifferently, or does it mean how as in ‘by what means’?
If a butterfly flaps its wings in China, just exactly what links in the chain of events lead to a tornado in Oklahoma? Would it make a difference if it were a butterfly on the planet Zorx three galaxies down the road?
At some point you’ve got to make a decision, you have to draw the line, you have to say ‘I’m connected to the universe up this point and not beyond.’ Otherwise, you’ll just go nuts.

I knew that one of my classes at the Gymnasium was canceled today, but I wasn’t sure which one so I showed up at the regular time, 9:40 a.m. It was the first class, so I needed to come back at 10:45.
No problem.

Just down the hill from the class, there is a lovely little stream. I’d explored it a bit in one direction, so I thought going the other would make for a pleasant, short walk or perhaps I’d find a place to sit down and read.
(I’m reading The Dancing Wu Li Masters. I tried it when it came out, like about 1980 or so, and found the physics a bit tough going, especially for a book with the total premise of simplifying physics, but I’m giving it another go now because it’s on my shelf and unread. I’m still finding the physics a bit over my head, but this time I’m going to plow through it.)
Anyway, the houses and restaurants soon faded away and I found myself in the middle of a wood which, except for a sign nailed to a tree saying “Natural Monument,” and the paved bike trail on which I was walking, was pretty close to its native state.
My mind wandered. I startled a couple of ducks and they flew away.
I got to the head of the stream, or at any rate where the water was pouring out of a big, round, concrete tunnel; I assume there was a reservoir on the other side.
I checked my phone and it was just about the perfect turnaround point. A nice, leisurely walk back and I’d be in plenty of time. I decide to cross the stream and walk back along the other side.
Big mistake.
The path on the other side soon ended and I found myself walking through an unmowed meadow, with grass almost up to my knee. My tennis shoes were soon soaked. Oh, well, I thought. I’ll be back on urban ground soon enough.
Then, I came to a fence. A tall fence, which went right down to the stream. (Just the other side of the fence, I saw a deer running away. I was pissed off, but it was still beautiful.) I considered taking my shoes off and wading across and, in retrospect, that would have been the smart move but I decided to go back to the head of the stream, cross to the side I’d come up, and change my casual amble for a somewhat swifter pace.
I wound up running. Now, I used to run a fair bit but recently I get puffed if I have to run more than a half a block to catch a bus. This was 20 minutes of walk/run/walk/run.
By the time I got back to school I was 10, almost 15 minutes late, sweating like a pig and breathing heavy. The students didn’t mind, they’d had a bit of free time, and no teachers even noticed.
The other thing, the part that surprised me: I felt great.

The tragedy of our times, the tragedy of all times, is that the world is not as wonderful as it could be. The saving grace, the thought that makes this bitter pill a bit easier to swallow, is that iit could be a hell of a lot worse.
If people were a wee bit smarter, smart enough, for instance, to accept science and logic enough to say “if it works, it works” we would have totally legal marijuana, single payer health insurance and reasonable restrictions on firearms.
If people were a bit more compassionate, just a wee bit more than they are, we might be able to eliminate homelessness, hunger and poverty worldwide.
If people were just a little bit more rational and less hotheaded, we might be able to eliminate war and all the horrors that go with it.
But, we’re not. We are exactly, precisely what we are. It’s no wonder the aliens don’t want to talk to us.

The police shootings in Garland, Texas, the other day were a bit different from other recent police shootings, in two important respects. First, the victims were not black. Next, they were armed and a very real threat.
They were Islamists and they were pissed off that there was an anti-Islamic gathering going on.
It was a comic drawing contest. Yes, that does happen even after 3rd grade. Not often, of course. It’s not the kind of thing adults normally sit around and do with each other.
Specifically, it was a contest to see who could draw the best cartoon of the prophet Mohammed. And by best, they meant the funniest. And by funniest, they undoubtedly meant the most offensive.
Some people, as you can verify by spending 5 minutes on facebook, just love to be offensive. It’s what they live for. It’s not a new phenomenon, you’ve met people like that in real life, as well. They’re the ones who end every story with “You shoulda seen the look on his face!”
You can be pretty sure that a group that organizes a “who can offend Muslims the worst” party are precisely that kind of people.
So, it was no surprise that people were offended, and it was no surprise that people bent on violence showed up.
On the one hand, this is like setting a mousetrap. If you’re going to have the occasional terrorist attack, it makes sense to have it where the police are waiting for it. Two dead terrorists, no other damage. The offensive cartoons were just the cheese in the trap.
On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of police setting up kill zones. If this starts to be a regular thing – having events that you know are going to draw opposition, just so you can shoot somebody – it could get really ugly.