What does paleobiology say about ants’ weather forecasting abilities?

7-Nov-2011

Am I the only one to notice that hearing aids have become fashion accessory statements?

Seems like when I was a kid, people wore “flesh” coloured hearing aids to hide them, and later in-ear filtered amplifiers to protect a person’s vanity.

These days, bright, neon-coloured contraptions sit in or over the ear with “skins” that depict a person’s favourite football team, racecar driver, musician or religion.

I even saw one that had tiny light-emitting fiber art fronds displaying a changing rainbow of little dots waving in the air like ear hairs on fire.

Another person had rigged a miniature LCD screen that turned incoming sounds into an infographic soundwave frequency “music video” dangling like an earring attached to the hearing aid.

Leave it to the Baby Boomers to make their health failings a positive experience.

= = =

BTW, the supercomputer predicts one future where former religious opponents — Christian vs. Muslim, for instance — join forces to oppose the immoral/unethical wealthy elites.  Actually, the prediction keeps popping up over and over in different scenarios, including urban-vs.-rural wars, suburban skirmishes, etc.

I’m not one of those survivalist types but the latest supercomputer musings sure make me think about clearing a space in the subbasement network wire closet for canned food and a comfortable cot for two.

Time for a leisurely walk in the woods to see what my nontalkative neighbours have to say about global warming and human warring factions.

Stirring the holy water of religion

Literal view or mythical view – which drives your participation, if you participate, in the belief system/religion of your [sub]culture?

In a sect/denomination of the Christian religion – Presbyterianism – the views are mixed, some “pure” and some reinterpreted for changing times.

Here’s one group’s take on purity: Change-in-Book-of-Order_Covenant-Pres_2011-10-14.

Here’s one group’s take on finding literal interpretation – leaning on the research of Dr. Bryant Wood, Director of Research with the Associates of Biblical Research, Akron, PA, who spoke on the subjects of the “Great Discoveries of the New Testament” and “Digging up the Truth at Jericho”: Rogersville-Presbyterian-Church-bulletin_2011-10-16.

Every subculture modifies/makes rules to serve its members.

Same for programming a supercomputer connected to a network of billions of sets of states of energy like us.

Time to adjust some parameters.

Talk to you again soon.

What Can Your Network Do For You?

The Committee…some days, those words send chills up my spine.  Or is it chinchillas?  I’m never sure.

Anyway, the Committee members are in the midst of a dispute.  Do they promote a person or idea to a large group of people (e.g., a particular candidate or party for U.S. President in 2012) or let the system fulfill its predetermined fuzzy math, neural network outcome, where the person with the biggest network of people with the best possible chance of improving overall conditions for our species within our solar system ecosystem wins?

PME magazine declares “Less Is More” on its cover, discussing single-pipe hydronic system that solves high-rise troubles.

Meanwhile, the 2010 “Gallery” at WSCC received a silver award for annual publications from Sigma Delta Chi, the Society of Professional Journalists.

Wallace Turman offers a “Bible story told through the Scripture Emphasis on Psalms 40 and demonstrated through clay on how the Potter, clay and the wheel relate to us.  This is a Great Learning Experience for the Whole Family [and he] can come to your Church or Business.”  For booking call Wallace at (256) 859-6517, (256) 658-1233 or email blackk59 [at] yahoo.com.

Finally, American Currents magazine offers the following observations about the mating habits of Warmouth, Lepomis gulosus:

“Both sexes, when courting, would approach another adult.  Only males were observed defending a territory.  Larger males were most successful at defending territories.  Only courting males would approach another fish with gills flared and attempt to lead a female to the nest site.  Females approaching the nest of a courting male would blanch with darkened eyes and move directly into the nest to engage in rock biting.  Brood care was performed only by males.  The paternal males frequently chased other fish off or away from the nest site.  Paternal investment ended once the larvae left the nest.

“Males and nests were acclimated over a period of one to several days prior to addition of females into the system.  This allowed time for males to establish territories and define hierarchy.

“The single male system with one or more females used a 150-litre (4-gallon) glass aquarium.  The male and nest were placed to one side of the tank and the following day conditioned female(s) were introduced and confined to the other side using a partition.  By day three, females were attempting to go through the partition, so the partition was removed and immediately the male began to court the females.  The partition was removed allowed the sexes to interact only when fishes could be monitored.  To keep the male receptive to ripe females, we eliminated parental obligations by removing the nest once eggs were hatched.  On several occasions, multiple, apparently, ripe females entered the nest and the males would abruptly stop courting.  The females would attempt to vent-rub even though the male’s courting has ceased.  Courtship and spawning would only occur successfully with a single female on the nest.  Several males that failed to construct and defend a nest site were removed.  Males observed to be reluctant to display courtship and spawning behaviours were replaced.

“A problem noted with this setup is that once females were removed, the male would often neglect parental duties and brood survival was greatly reduced.  Successful incubation required either leaving at least one female in the tank or removal of the nest for incubation in another tank [with adequate, artificial ventilation].  Males were often observed to be reluctant to spawn when they were the only male in the system; adding another male often promoted more intense courting, possibly because of competition between the males.

“The two-male system used a 454-l (120-gal) fiberglass raceway.  Males quickly feuded over the single nest and within an hour one male had become dominant and claimed the nest.  Conditioned females (n=7) were confined as a group to the smaller volume in the [tank].  At the beginning of the work day the partition was removed allowing the females to interact with the males over nests.  When the females were released, only the dominant male could defend a nest and successfully court the females.  The second male would attempt to defend a territory but was unable to court the females.

“Conditioning of the females was minimal and only required the females to be fed good amounts of food a couple weeks prior to spawning.  Courting behaviour includes a male swimming toward the females swaying his body while flaring his operculum then returning to his designated nest; this is repeated several times before a female responds by returning to the nest with the male.  Often times more than one female would enter a nest site.  During trials, as many as five females were observed in a single nest.  Males would refuse to spawn when more than two females were in a nest at one time.  So in order to induce spawning, several females had to be removed.  Three females were left in the raceway and within minutes a female returned to the nest.”

Sounds oddly familiar, like some people I know…

My wife wants me to mention the everyday miracle of life that occurs around us all the time (i.e., another example of Presbyterian predestination, she says).

Today, while sorting out clothes for her mother at the assisted living apartment, she had a few leftover clothes hanger, including a broken one which I proceeded to bend and turn into a giant thin moustache I could maybe use as a costume prop next month.  We left the apartment and I threw the bent wire into the backseat.  After seeing the dramatised true-to-life movie-of-the-week called “Moneyball,” we stopped to fill our automobile tank with petrol.  At the gas station, our favourite attendant there, Theresa, mentioned a fellow needed a coat hanger to jimmy the lock on his truck in which he locked his keys.  I carry a coat hanger in my car like almost never —  when I do, BOOM! lightning strikes and someone needs it.

The bigger your network, the better the chance of you experiencing and/or believing in everyday miracles, serendipitous or some such.  Perhaps, like Gandhi, your friends are setting up the infrastructure to make your life look more miraculous.  Same thing.

If=since, says Dr. Tom Lovell, referring to Philippians 2:1 (although 2:14 is much more poignant to me; accentuate the positive, no henpecking and no kicking or drawing lines in the sand), after preaching about 1:27.

Makes sense to me.

Is the universe for you or against you.  I choose to believe/accept it’s for me, even when the local environment feels/seems/looks hostile.  Why else am I here?

Thanks to the seaters and Sarah at Outback; William and Sabrina at Cheeburger, Cheeburger; Alyssa and Olivia at Rave; the many, many smiling faces at HarborChase; the bridge players and support staff at Brookdale Place; Elsie, William Hovik and others at Faith; Mel Strain of Mel’s Workshop; the soap maker who’s a friend of Tina Williams; the creators of the ext4 journaling file system.

The Day The Earth Still Stood

A part of me dies every day.

Yet, I don’t know why.

Violence is inherent in the system, I know.

Alpha behaviour is part of the game of life on this planet.

Fairness is an illusion.

A bear takes a bite out of a live fish and tosses it aside because it doesn’t taste good, regardless of whether the fish, fat with eggs, is the last in its family line.

We murder one another over useless arguments.

Tens of thousands of us die on roadways for no reason.

McDonald’s and other fastfood fried “potato” sticks probably contribute to more obesity-related deaths in one month than nuclear technology has killed in its manmade existence.

Yet, we badmouth nuclear technology like it’s the plague.

I am of my species.

There is no doubt.

I know things that I should and things that I shouldn’t, and don’t understand half of what I know.

The power of the written word affects my species directly and the rest of the beings of this planet indirectly.

Pictures speak louder than words, except when words are pictorial representations of themselves.

Words are never examples of themselves to themselves.

They are not conscious.

They have no conscience.

Consciousness and conscience are words, concepts, ideas that lead to relativistic moral arguments/discussions.

Discussions that lead to death on individual, subcultural and genocidal levels.

If members of my species act unconscionably, killing my leftover childhood innocence little by little, and all the symbology that developed in my thoughts during my formative years is completely rearranged, who am I?

In the Biblical teaching of my upbringing, the story of Sodom and Gomorrah was often repeated.

Setting aside the argument/discussion concerning the existence of a Supreme Being, I am left with the lessons of life presented to me by my elders when I was a child and by my peers (the whole species) during the rest of my life.

What are you teaching me?

What am I teaching you?

The scientific method is equivalent to a religious practice these days, taught to everyone regardless of religious belief.

Who am I?

How do I reconcile the teachings of other versus their practice and use both as examples for how to live the rest of my life?

If I was Klaatu, and truly understood that the evolution of a planet includes nonmoral, normal wholesale changes that wipe out complete ecosystems periodically, would I still believe that my selfdestructive species, Homo sapiens, deserved to live to populate the cosmos?

Do you feed or starve your fears? : Chapter Le Crimp

She sat in the auditorium chair, shaking her crossed leg, a normal post-speech habit.

She had researched many jokes to tell during her presentation, Better Together: A Story About the Power of Connectionalism.

One she had not told:

I like to stay in shape physically so, when out of town recently, I called the local gym.  I asked if they had a swimming pool.  “Sorry, it’s closed because it’s not working.”  Did they have a weight room.  “Sorry, it’s closed because it’s not working.”  Did they have an elliptical training room?  “Sorry, it’s closed because it’s not working.”  Did they at least have a sauna to use after a long run?   “Sorry, it’s closed because it’s not working.”  Well, I asked, is anything working in that gym?  “Yes,” the receptionist replied, “but I’m not worth much.”

Somewhere, the refrains of Bach’s Air from the Ouverture No. 3 in D major, BWV 1068, played on the Light Classical Music Choice digital channel, Matthias Bamert, Conductor of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra.

Echoes of Joel Robinson, soloist, singing Great Is Thy Faithfulness, pushed against the sounds of people breathing, motor vehicles accelerating and Kevin Long’s organ piping.

Dr. Tom Lovell thought back to his sermon, Predestination: Is It All Planned Out?

O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing.

Gene Joiner, executive director of Maranatha Camp and Conference Center stood up to speak that day – 24th July 2011 – to announce the exciting news the camp had hosted 463 campers that summer.

Wilson Blair, with a nod to Warner Durnell, handed out copies of a document that declared:

THIS IS TO CERTIFY

THAT

Chapter of Presbyterian Men, First Presbyterian Church, Athens, Ala.

is officially affiliated with the

NATIONAL COUNCIL of PRESBYTERIAN MEN

in the

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Rosemary thought back about her speech.  There she was, a CLP, happily married for 32 years.  A student of the Book of Order, old and new.

She remembered well her conversion to Presbyterianism, having wandered from her Catholic upbringing through the Episcopal denomination.

New faces bring new ideas.

“How many Presbyterians does it take to change a light bulb? ‘Change?’ the Presbyterian congregation asks in shock.”

Organised people love Presbyterianism because their religious practice is conducted by committee – better together, in other words.

A look back is a look forward.

Love – social connectedness on the individual, family or cultural level – is what a female-led flock in Big Cove, Alabama, is all about.

Better than a 30-minute wait for a cup of soup at a local restaurant because only the overworked kitchen workers, not the servers, have permission to dip a ladle in the vat.

Manage by walking around and make proactive changes, regardless of corporate office edicts, religious or secular.

= = =

Thanks to Katie Erickson at The Apollo Cafe, Ricky D at [unnamed because of poor kitchen service, despite post-service discount provided by the manager, Dustin], Aaron/Zach/Crystal/Dana/Pat/Carson at UBC, Amber at Arby’s, Octavio R at Sandoval’s, Kim and elizaBeth at Panera Bread, Kay Hanks at Publix, kitchen workers at Maranatha dining hall.

Did You Hear About the Northern Irishman Who Won the U.S. Open?

Thanks to Juliet at Carson’s Grille, my parents, my mother in-law, Ingle’s, Bimbo Fireworks and gas station…

Where did I leave off while talking to myself the last time?  Hmm…

Oh yeah.  Growing up in Colonial Heights.

I’ve never been a member of the Southern Baptist Church.

Not that the church is a bad place, but I never felt the need, like schoolmates and their parents, to belong to an organisation that prided itself on its exclusivity – “we’re the only true believers,” “we have the most missionaries,” etc.

Every one of us is motivated to overcome entropy with our states of energy in different ways.

Some people want…well, like my sister in-law, who is a member of the Southern Baptist Church, told me, “I’m not the adventurous kind of person…  I’ve raised two great kids.  I work for the church as a bookkeeper, which doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s a steady job.”

In other words, her subculture – her church – provides her the social web of protection that lets her sleep soundly at night while dreaming of grandchildren.

Some prefer chaos and anarchy.

Some prefer no large social web.

And yet, here we are, all seven billion of us sharing this planet interconnectedly.

A friend told me about her antibucket list – her, if you’ll pardon my non child-friendly phrase, fuhket or fuhketaboutit list.

  • Item no. 1 – no more making food for church socials – she was tired of preparing casseroles or other dishes for people she rarely hung out with or who didn’t appreciate her gourmet taste.  Artichoke-and-anchovy dishes were for family gatherings from now on.
  • Item no. 2 – no traveling with strangers who have no sense of direction or desire for adventure – she’d just completed a trip to the Big Apple and, although it provided many funny moments to talk about, the minidisasters along the way almost overran the few good times she had.
  • Item no. 2 – she didn’t have to make a long list, just start the list and let the rest of the world add to it.
= = = ++[{}]++ = = =
Some Irish golf humour to end this blog
After a particularly poor game of golf, a popular club member skipped the clubhouse and started to go home. As he was walking to the parking lot to get his car, a policeman stopped him and asked, “Did you tee off on the sixteenth hole about twenty minutes ago?”
“Yes,” the golfer responded.
“Did you happen to hook your ball so that it went over the trees and off the course?”
“Yes, I did. How did you know?” he asked.
“Well,” said the policeman very seriously, “Your ball flew out onto the highway and crashed through a driver’s windshield. The car went out of control, crashing into five other cars and a fire truck. The fire truck couldn’t make it to the fire, and the building burned down. So, what are you going to do about it?”
The golfer thought it over carefully and responded…
“I think I’ll close my stance a little bit, tighten my grip and lower my right thumb.”
= = =
Fred got home from his Sunday round of golf later than normal and very tired. “Bad day at the course?” his wife asked. “Everything was going fine,” he said. “Then Harry had a heart attack and died on the 10th tee.”
“Oh, that’s awful!”
“You’re not kidding. For the whole back nine it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry.”
= = =
After an enjoyable eighteen hole of golf, a man stopped in a bar for a beer before heading home. There he struck up a conversation with a ravishing young beauty. They had a couple of drinks, liked each other, and soon she invited him over to her apartment. For two hours they made mad, passionate love. On the way home, the man’s conscience started bothering him something awful. He loved his wife and didn’t want this unplanned indiscretion to ruin their relationship, so he decided the only thing to do was come clean. “Honey,” he said when he got home, “I have a confession to make. After I played golf today, I stopped by the bar for a beer, met a beautiful woman, went back to her apartment and made love to her for two hours. I’m sorry, it won’t ever happen again, and I hope you’ll forgive me.” His wife scowled at him and said, “Don’t lie to me, you sorry scumbag! You played thirty-six holes, didn’t you?”

 

Melodious Saintly Sales Methodologies

We were sitting at the hardware store, talking about nothing in particular, when an obvious sales guy showed up.

“Hey, fellas!  I’m new in town.”

We blinked in unison, as close to a friendly hello as a bunch of cautious friends will make.

“I see I’m up against a tough crowd.  My name’s Wodwin.”

“Wodmin, I’m Smoot, the hardware store owner.  What can I do fer ya?”

“I’m looking to start up a business in this town, seeing as how I own a bunch of ’em upstate, and wondered if any of you could introduce me to one of your preachers.”

“Well, now, Wodwin, what kinda preacher are you lookin’ for?  Regular Protestant?  Evangelical Protestant? Nonspecific?”

“Don’t matter to me, none.  Just a fella who has his finger on the pulse of his congregation.”

Rog, our resident critic, stood up.  “Wodwin, whot you need a preacher fer?  You got sumthin’ to confess that we need hear about afore it spreads all over town?”

“Naw.  Nothin’ like that.  My daughter’s thinkin’ of gettin’ married and I need to make sure she has a good talk with a preacher before she ties the knot with the ‘man of her dreams.'”

“He somebody we know?”

“I reckon not.  He’s from a different country.  Smoot, you got any suggestions?”

“Ahh…hmm…boys, you think ol’ Reverend Stalvohl would do, in a case like this?”

I nodded.  “Sure.  He’d know what to say to a young lady about the proper conduct of mind afore you settled into the married life.”

Wodwin tipped his hat.  “Fellas, you’ve been a big help.  I’m good with faces so when I see any of you come into my store, I’ll make sure to offer you a special discount.  Have a great day!”

A week later, I ran into the preacher.  “Reverend Stalvohl, heard you was popular.”

“Yes, indeed.  You hardware store regulars have been a’houndin’ me about this new man in town a name of Wodwin.”

“Well, spill the beans.  Any good gossip for us?”

“Not yet.  Wodwin visited with me and spent a long time inquisitatin’ about my views on the evils of alcohol.  I told ‘im I wasn’t sure that alcohol was evil unto itself but the abuse of the firewater led to many a stray soul leavin’ the church.”

“You tell it like it is, Reverend.  You wonder if Wodwin is a drinker?”

“No.  He ain’t.  In fact, he told me he was a teetotaler but that he did own a few liquor stores upstate.  I told him I didn’t judge a man by how he made his money but I sure didn’t think his liquor stores would go over well in this God-fearin’ town.”

“That’s a good one, preacher.  We shore haven’t had a liquor store in these parts in a long time.”

“Indeed.  In any case, Wodwin is sendin’ his daughter over to my place this evenin’, so I’m sure you and the boys will have more to talk about tomorrow.”

The next morning, the hardware store was filled with farmers and handymen.  Seems like word had gotten out that Wodwin’s daughter was not only a looker but a regular student of the Bible.  News had spread she was stoppin’ by the hardware store before lunch so every fella that could get time away from his job had swung by the store on a lame excuse or two.

Smoot turned the store microphone on.  “Boys!  Boys!  Quiet down.  We’ve got a sweet, young lady here who’s asked to speak to ya.  Her’s names Selfketia.  Ma’am, the floor’s all yours.”

“Good morning, everyone!  My name’s Selfketia.  My daddy’s name is Wodwin and I think many of you have met him.  My daddy’s a wonderful man, God-fearin’ just like you, and he wants to open a brand-new store in your town.

“Now, Daddy, he’s got ideas that not everyone is keen on.  He learned from his pappy that alcoholism is a hidden disease that wastes away in even the tiniest communities.

“You’d think Daddy was against the drink.  But what he found, if’n you get folks to talk about alcohol, you bring out the disease and help those who are afflicted find a cure.

“So, if’n you’s against the drink, I invite you to come on down to Reverend Stalvohl’s church on Sunday and listen to his wonderful sermon on the evils of alcohol.

“Thank you for listenin’ to me and have a great day!”

We stood there, not sure what to say.

But, sure enough, come Sunday, we packed Reverend Stalvohl’s church, no matter whether we’d never attended his church or never attended church at all.

The preacher was lively that day, quoting many a verse about the proper and improper use of alcohol, how even Jesus, the first Christian, was known to have a drop or two with meals and invited all of us to drink alcohol in his name.

After the sermon, when many of us were cheered up by Reverend Stalvohl’s words and feelin’ a bit thirsty, we followed directions he’d given us and drove to a store at the end of town.

There stood Wodwin, dressed in his Sunday finest, offering us watered-down wine and homemade mead, both, he assured us, fully approved by the church, along with imported cheese and crackers, all of which he promised would be for sale in his new liquor store.  “…for nonalcoholic patrons only,” Selfketia added.

When the town council referendum came up for approval of a liquor store a couple of weeks later, there weren’t any nays.

I hear that Selfketia’s fiance never followed her to our town and didn’t show up when she went with her daddy to the next town to open their new liquor store.

And me, I opened a BYOB sittin’ porch next door to the liquor store, where we fellas can drink a beer or two, nothin’ more, and discuss the news of the day in more manly, respectable, even gentlemanly manners.  Our wives have gone to servin’ a little wine at their weekly get-togethers, too, givin’ wine-tastin’ parties once a month.

We rooted out the alcoholics pretty quickly, havin’ never noticed the ones who’d sneak out to buy liquor in the next town when we were dry but seein’ ’em stockin’ up here now a lot easier.  The preacher’s workin’ with them on their drinkin’ disease.

The rest of us feel a little more sophisticated when strangers stop in, able to offer ’em a soda pop or sippin’ whiskey at their preference.

And a little extra tax revenue for our small town! 😉

Should Atheists Remove “God” From Their Internal Dictionary?

Here we sit, 1000 years from now, a slew of offworld colonies establishing their own subcultures.

Where is heaven, hell, or nirvana?

Belief systems of many sorts dominate the news – celebrity worship, pop culture worship – as they always have.

Between your time and now, global weather changes on Earth reconfigured political boundaries out of necessity.

Naysayers and doomsday futurists continue their struggle for the attention of the masses.  Humour is lost in translation.

Computing systems tap our brains for networked problem-solving.

The legal definition of a body has cycled along with public opinion.

Brain-machine interfaces have allowed crime prevention authorities to stay even with or just one step behind inventive criminal organisations.

Our personalities now live forever through expansion of the range of stimuli sensors that define us, including social media bots that absorbed our ancestors’ online postings and begat virtual selves similar to but not exactly like ourselves.

Old race and class based arguments gave way to genetically-engineered beings adapted to specific environmental conditions, including aquatic humans and humans designed to live on nonEarth planetary bodies.  General adaptability is considered technologically backward, regardless of one’s genetic heritage.

The top 0.0001% of the population has more wealth than the remaining 99.9999%.

However, unlike your time, wealth is now measured on a happiness scale rather than a monetary one – the obsessive collection of money and objects was outlawed a long time ago, with medical advances allowing doctors to remove hoarding behaviour before birth.  In addition to genocide and geocide, suicide is a fully-recognised form of population control.

Sexual taboos no longer exist because of species-wide birth control mandates.  The ratio of gender subtypes is carefully controlled.

Politicians still use smoke and mirrors to motivate crowds for the personal gain of politicians and their cronies.

The E-Book of Galactic Records includes a section of how long different genetically-engineered humans can survive in the vacuum of space, as well as the fastest speed at which a whole body survived unharmed in transit from one space station to another.

The first human composed of antiparticles conceives and gives birth to an antiparticle baby.

Dark matter and dark energy were just more layers of the intertwined multiuniverse system we continue to uncover and describe for the next generation of scientific explorers.

Destruction of a human body in the activity of sport is forbidden, creating underground bloodsport leagues, while the majority watch and play sports with virtual teams of players who appear to have social relationships with virtual actors in other areas of mass media.

Until genetic specialisation reached critical mass, removal of children from large public educational institutes was granted only as long as the children received a required daily exposure to mass media and passed a yearly sub/culture test.

Some genetically-engineered humans can no longer speak, see or hear like humans of your time, having no need for those communication methods in modern society. Brain wave pattern amplification and attenuation reduced the necessity for archaic sensors and instruments that tended to get in the way of efficient socialisation.

Thus, new symbologies replaced old vocabularies and created a separation between the species that performed plays, wrote books, played musical instruments and shouted verbal commands on ball fields and the new species genotypes that excel in skills unimagined in your time.

That’s all the news for today.  Time for my half-sol of meditation.