Saturday: Hili dialogue (and Leon lagniappe)

March 5, 2016 • 6:15 am

It’s S(C)aturday, and I’m still suffering from lack of sleep, which is, both literally and figuratively, getting tiring. But in 12 days I’ll be in India, and perhaps I’ll sleep there. On this day in 1770, the Boston Massacre took place, rousing animus against the British that later contributed to our War of Independence.  On March 5, 1836, Samuel Colt patented a .34 caliber revolver: the first mass-produced revolver in history. In 1933, the Great Depression began with government closure of all banks and freezing of assets, and, on that same day, the Nazi Party got a plurality in German elections, enabling it to take control of the country. Notable births on this day include Rosa Luxemberg (1871), Louis Kahn (1901), Lynn Margulis (1938), and Penn Jillette (1955). Those who died on this day include Edgar Lee Masters (1950), Joseph Stalin (1953), Patsy Cline (1963), Jay Silverheels (“Tonto”; 1980), John Belushi (1982; age 33), and Duane Gish (2013).

Meanwhile in Dobrzyn, Hili’s thoughts are beyond my ken. Readers are welcome to figure out what she’s saying.

Hili: Do we live in an era of virtual philosophy?
A: So it seems.
Hili: This is a total abstraction.
(Photo: Sarah Lawson)
E
In Polish:
Hili: Czy żyjemy w epoce wirtualnej filozofii?
Ja: Na to wygląda.
Hili: To jakaś totalna abstrakcja.
(Zdjęcie: Sarah Lawson)
And, in Wroclawek, the Dark Tabby is raring to go:

Leon: Hey, let’s finally go for a walk!

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Russian produces world’s smallest book—and other tiny stuff

March 4, 2016 • 2:30 pm

It’s 70 X 90 microns (a micron is one millionth of a meter), or 0.07 X 0.09 millimeters, which means that you could fit over 100 of these side by side in a single centimeter, or almost three hundred of the books in a single inch.  As Wednesday’s Guardian reports, a Russian man, Vladimir Aniskin, who works at the Institute of Theoretical and Applied Mechanics at the Siberian branch of the Russian Academy of Science,  has produced what will soon be declared as the world’s smallest book. Here it is below–actually several copies of it–displayed on half a poppy seed.  (This is a gif, so make sure you see the books’ pages turning.)

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The Guardian:

Microminiaturist Vladimir Aniskin, from Novosibirsk in Siberia, spent five years developing the technology to create the book, which measures 70 by 90 micrometres, or 0.07mm by 0.09mm. It then took him a month to create, by hand, two versions. The first, Levsha, is named after Nikolai Leskov’s 19th-century story The Steel Flea, in which a craftsman from Tula beats the English by managing to nail flea shoes on the clockwork flea they have created. Aniskin’s Levsha contains the names of other microminiaturists who can also, in his words “shoe the flea”. His second book, Alphabet, contains the Russian alphabet.

The text is printed using the lithographic process onto sheets of film just three or four microns thick. Aniskin said that the most difficult part of the process was binding the pages together so they can be turned. He used tungsten wires with a diameter of five microns as the “springs” for the pages, placing the finished books into half a poppyseed, displayed on gold plates. The pages, which have text on both sides, can be turned using a sharpened metal needle.

“The book size is 70 by 90 microns and it is 88 times less than the area of the book recorded in the Guinness Book of Records as the smallest printed book, and 67 times less than the book area recorded in the Russian Book of Records as the world’s smallest,” Aniskin told the Guardian, describing previous record holders in Japan, a 0.74 by 0.75mm manuscript entitled Flowers of the Four Seasons, and the smallest book in Russia as recognised by the Russian Book of Records, the 0.644mm by 0.660mm lyrics of the anthem of Russia. Guinness also lists Teeny Ted from Turnip Town by Malcolm Douglas Chaplin, which measures 70 micrometres by 100 micrometres, as the smallest reproduction of a printed book yet made.

He has a website in English as well as Russian, and explains how he makes some of his miniatures, which include putting horseshoes on a flea, a squadron of diverse airplanes on a poppy seed, and a parade of camels in not a needle, but a hair (see photo and link below explaining how he did that). Note that the flea below not only has horseshoes (fleashoes?) on its feet, but there are tinier nails used to affix the shoes!:

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“All my works are hand-made without any micromanipulators. Obviously, I work with the help of a microscope. My microscope is MBS-9, binocular (that is, you look with both eyes), with linear magnification up to 100 times. I also have two little self-made machine units — a lathe and a sharpening unit. Each of them can fit in the palm of a hand.
I invent and make tools on my own. While working I hold my creation in my fingers. Even one’s heartbeat disturbs such minute work, so particularly delicate work has to be done between heartbeats” (from the website)..

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From his website, explaining what’s below (it does look like a needle rather than a horsehair):

The diameter of a horse hair is 0.12 mm (a little bigger than the width of a razor blade). The hair is drilled along its axis, the diameter of the hole is 0.08 mm. This means that you need to make a drill, sharpen it and drill through the hair. The most important thing while drilling is that the axis of the spinning drill and the axis of the hair should coincide. But this is not all. Then you need to burnish a hair to make it transparent. And it should be burnished both from the outside and from the inside! I burnished the hair with diamond paste of various coarseness. But this is not all. To put eight camels (I didn’t even mention that they should be made lesser than 0.08 mm high) inside the hair without damaging them, and putting them in the same plane is very, very difficult. The drill, drilling process, burnishing — it takes years to solve these problems.

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A display of his items (under magnification, of course):

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Here’s a video; be sure to see his chessmen on a poppy-seed table:

 

A University that really understands free speech (but authoritarian nonsense continues elsewhere)

March 4, 2016 • 12:30 pm

Well, the nonsense continues on college campuses, but first the good news: a letter to friends and alumnae of the University of Colorado from its President, Bruce Bensen. Referring to pushback for hosting a video “seminar” by fugitive/whistleblower Edward Snowden, Bensen reaffirms UC’s principles of free speech. This is heartening, but after you’re heartened, read about the two incidents below the letter (sent to an alumna, Robin Cornwell, and published with her permission):

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Now the bad news: two incidents on college campuses involving the melting of Snowflakes:

An Op-Ed by Catherine Rampell in yesterday’s Washington Post describes the consequences of a party at a notorious authoritarian school, Bowdoin College in Maine. A student there, apparently of Colombian descent, threw a birthday party for a friend, with the invitations saying this: ““the theme is tequila, so do with that what you may. We’re not saying it’s a fiesta, but we’re also not not saying that :).” Among the booze, games, and other festivities was the presence of tiny sombreros, a few inches across. Some of the partygoers were photographed wearing the miniature headgear, the photos appeared on social media, and all hell broke loose. As Rampell reports:

College administrators sent multiple schoolwide emails notifying the students about an “investigation” into a possible “act of ethnic stereotyping.”

Partygoers ultimately were reprimanded or placed on “social probation,” and the hosts have been kicked out of their dorm, according to friends. (None of the disciplined students whom I contacted wanted to speak on the record; Bowdoin President Clayton Rose declined an interview and would not answer a general question about what kinds of disciplinary options are considered when students commit an “act of bias.”)

. . . Within days, the Bowdoin Student Government unanimously adopted a “statement of solidarity” to “[stand] by all students who were injured and affected by the incident,” and recommend that administrators “create a space for those students who have been or feel specifically targeted.”

The statement deemed the party an act of “cultural appropriation,” one that “creates an environment where students of color, particularly Latino, and especially Mexican, students feel unsafe.” The effort to purge the two representatives who attended the party, via impeachment, soon followed.

Again, I’m not sure that I would have furnished tiny sombreros were I throwing the party, but even such “cultural appropriation” isn’t deserving of this kind of severe opprobrium. (Do read the “statement of solidarity“.) It’s madness! What’s worse is the hypocrisy of the university evidencd by its own hosting of a different party

. . . The school’s reaction seems especially arbitrary when you learn that — on the very same night of the “tequila party,” just across campus — Bowdoin held its annual, administration-sanctioned “Cold War” party. Students arrived dressed in fur hats and coats to represent Soviet culture; one referred to herself as “Stalin,” making light of a particularly painful era in Slavic history.

What principle makes one theme deserving of school sponsorship and another of dorm expulsion? Perhaps race is the bright line, but not long ago people of Slavic heritage weren’t considered white either. Does intent matter? What about distance (geographic or chronological) from the culture being turned into a party theme?

Why can you appropriate Russian culture, and even represent yourself as Stalin, but can’t wear a miniature sombrero? Is it “punching down” to do the latter, but “punching up” to wear Russian headgear and coats? Isn’t that “ethnic stereotyping” as well? After all, not all Russians wear fur hats and coats.

And at the University of Pittsburgh (“Pitt”), a talk by Milo Yiannopoulos, an editor of Breitbart, a conservative, and an anti-feminist, caused similar pandemonium. I’m not a fan of Yiannopoulos, though sometimes I think he’s being deliberately provocative, inciting controversy and drawing attention by saying things he doesn’t really believe. But what he does say is often repugnant. Nevertheless, his views deserve to be heard, as they challenge current liberal ideology.

When he spoke, though, all hell again broke loose. Today’s Pitt News reports the reaction (remember, his talk was open to students, but they weren’t forced to go). First, Yiannopoulos spouted his usual blather:

Yiannopoulos, a controversial conservative writer and activist who tours colleges to speak about the need for free speech, spoke at Pitt Monday evening to a crowd of about 350 students, some of whom protested the lecture. The Board had allocated funding to Pitt College Republicans, who had invited Yiannopoulos to campus.

During his talk, Yiannopoulos called students who believe in a gender wage gap “idiots,” declared the Black Lives Matter movement a “supremacy” group, while feminists are “man-haters.”

The Student Government Board (SGB), which apparently paid for part of Yiannopoulos’s expenses, said that it was forced by its statutes to air a diversity of views, but they were “hurt” by Yiannopoulos’s talk. Some students even felt unsafe!:

Marcus Robinson, president of Pitt’s Rainbow Alliance, said after leaving the lecture on Monday, he felt unsafe on campus for the first time.

“So many of us shared in our pain. I felt I was in danger, and I felt so many people in that room were in danger. This event erased the great things we’ve done,” Robinson said. “For the first time, I’m disappointed to be at Pitt.”

Robinson suggested that the University should have provided counselors in a neighboring room to help students who felt “invalidated” or “traumatized” by the event.

Counselors only? What about the balloons, Play-Doh, and puppy videos?

Of course students have the right to feel or react however they want, but seriously—they felt in danger because of what Yiannopoulos said? What kind of world is this? It is, of course, a world of victimization, a world in which free speech that you don’t like is demonized as “hate speech” and “violence.” It’s a world where you signal your own virtue by overreacting. And so it went:

While SGB focused on the issue of championing free speech in its release, students argued the lecture was “hate speech” and should not follow the same rights.

“This is more than hurt feelings, this is about real violence. We know that the violence against marginalized groups happens every day in this country. That so many people walked out of that [event] feeling in literal physical danger is not alright,” Claire Matway, a social work and urban studies major, said.

I’m sorry, but I have real trouble empathizing with those students who felt that they were in “literal physical danger” (as opposed to metaphorical physical danger). Snowflakes like these must learn to live in a world where they won’t always hear what they like. (It’s too much to expect them to realize that they should actually seek out views they don’t like.) And, after all, nobody had to attend Yiannopoulos’s talk, and if you did, you’d have a pretty good idea in advance about what he was going to say!

The New Adventures of Angry Cat Man

March 4, 2016 • 11:00 am

Learning that I had been called “Angry Cat Man” by faculty at the Lab School because of what I write on my website, reader Pliny the in Between produced an appropriate cartoon, whose title is given in the header.

Recognize my Evil Minion? Did you notice that the CatSuit has the coloration of a feline familiar to readers of this site? And don’t miss the footwear!

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If you’re skeptical of FEMEN, you should watch this

March 4, 2016 • 9:45 am

by Grania Spingies

FEMEN and Inna Shevchenko are often treated as pariahs by the very people who claim to champion the causes this group fights for. FEMEN was born in Ukraine as a reaction to that country’s exploitation of women in the sex industry, as well as to other global issues: dictatorships, oppression of women by religions, and the entanglment of church and state.

The group has at times come in for a lot of criticism—not only from their natural enemies (the women in FEMEN have been arrested and tortured) but also from their natural allies who (let’s be frank here) appear to be overcome by an attack of Victorian prudishness.

The Rubin Report on Ora TV has just released an interview with Inna Shevchenko; you can catch it on their website or on YouTube. Inna is passionate and articulate, and covers a range of subjects. She describes the lowly origins of the group and admits to initially having had serious reservations about FEMEN’s decision to go topless. She and Dave Rubin also discuss subjects ranging from the Charlie Hebdo massacre (she knew all the cartoonists) to the recent attacks in Cologne—as well as the baffling response to these events by certain supposedly liberal and left-leaning people.

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The interview is very much worth your time, and might change your mind about FEMEN. Oh, and if you’re not following The Rubin Report, you should be. It’s a refreshing change from most Left-wing and Right-wing channels, as Rubin favors discussing ideas above promoting ideologies.

Part 1 (14 minutes):

Part 2 (23 minutes):

Part 3 (16 minutes):

And since reader infiniteimprobabilit reminded me of this photo in the comments below, I’ll sneak in some self-aggrandizing. This was in Paris Match:

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Ed Suominen meets a Sophisticated Theologian

March 4, 2016 • 8:30 am

A few nights ago, reader Ed Suominen went to a talk by my old nemesis John Haught, a Sophisticated Catholic Theologian™ whom I once debated at the University of Kentucky. You can read about that memorable encounter on Haught’s Wikipedia page. At any rate, Haught’s talk was at Gonzaga, a Catholic University in Spokane, Washington. After the talk, Ed—a former Christian Fundamentalist in the little-known sect of Laestadianism, and now a nonbeliever who wrote about his deconversion in Salon—chatted with Haught at his book-signing. Ed wrote me about the episode, and, with his permission, I reproduce his account below:

In Evolving out of Eden, Bob Price and I called Haught “one of the best writers out there at articulating the problems that evolution poses for Christian theology.” He began his talk last night with one of those problems, the vast chasm of deep time that preceded the evolution of life. He illustrated that with 29 books representing the 13.8 billion years since the Big Bang, 450 pages each and with a million years per page. Human consciousness, he said, occupies only the last 10-20% of the last page of the last book, and the first two-thirds of the books are devoid of life entirely. It was an instructive metaphor for him to present.

Otherwise, the talk was pretty much content-free. But it was interesting to watch him speak because it was much more reminiscent of the style of a mellow liberal preacher rather than of a hard-facts scientist. The hand-waving is not merely metaphorical! All that business about God drawing forward and being up ahead rather than up above (this from part two of the talk) was accompanied by appropriate smooth gestures of the arms, along with a soothing oratory that promised eventual warmth and revelation and beauty for us in some undefined future with God.

I sat there knowing that Haught’s gauzy theology doesn’t seem to specify any possible means for an afterlife. How, after all, does this God-in-process watching from the sidelines go about providing an afterlife for a whole disembodied human consciousness if he won’t even twiddle a few lousy point mutations here and there? (In Making Sense of Evolution: Darwin, God, and the Drama of Life, Haught criticizes efforts to insert “divine action into a series of natural causes,” e.g., quantum events or genetic mutations.) And yet almost everyone else in the audience (mostly senior citizens more inclined than usual to think about mortality) was eating it all up. Evolution, science, and yet this meeting with God soon, too! What’s not to like? There was even a standing ovation, though I remained seated along with about a fifth of the audience.

Haught contradicted himself one memorable time. In his “problem solved” second half of the lecture following the science stuff, he talked about how it seems that the universe was set up for the eventuality of life. The whole thing was spring-loaded, so to speak, so that the whole shelf, even all those blank volumes, can be considered part of the story of life. (I don’t have any exact quotes, but this was the conclusion of some discussion about the fine-tuning argument, which he seems to like.) Yeah, well, it sure seems like a lot of preamble! This God of his certainly doesn’t get bored by a tedious pregame show.

Blah, blah, blah. So much soothing word salad in service of his need (career and psyche alike, I suspect) for there to be a God behind it all somehow, no matter what. With apologies to the writer of Psalms 84:2, “My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the Templeton Prize.”

I posed one of just two questions that were allowed. It was this, verbatim: “What mode of divine action would you propose for God to do this leading and drawing and so forth?” The reply was long and barely coherent, and did not even come close to providing any actual answer. He did say somewhere in all the words and circular upwelling gestures that action implies pushing or force and that’s not what God is doing.

Fine: Then what the hell is he doing? There has to be some sort of interface between this spiritual entity Haught is happy to name for his pious audience and the physical world that The Entity is supposedly cheering on from up ahead somewhere. Otherwise, it is all “sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

I met up with Haught right after the talk, before the book-signing line got going. I offered him a print copy of Evolving out of Eden, and he declined politely, saying he had a copy for the Kindle already. I showed him the page where Bob and I had introduced him with a compliment for his clear-headed way of presenting the scientific issues, saying we found it “refreshing.” (And it is—compared to all the nonsense out there.) He said that he had noticed we were also quite critical of him. I acknowledged that we were, but at least wanted to point out something positive. He said, yes, he noticed we “cut him some slack” in that area—with a faintest of smiles—and that it was good to have had an exchange of ideas. I shook his hand and agreed and said it was a pleasure to finally meet him. And it was; he’s just a fellow human being who yearns for transcendence and, finding almost nothing available to work with, is trying his best to patch up the crumbling edifice of his ancient church.

Thanks to Ed for the story. I told him, when he said it was a “pleasure” to meet Haught, that he was being extraordinarily kind to a man whose lucubrations I dislike intensely, but Ed, having once drunk the Kool-Aid, is more forgiving than I. I also told Ed that perhaps he wouldn’t be so kind had he read Haught’s God and the New Atheism: A Critical Response to Dawkins, Harris, and Hitchens. It’s a dreadful book, full of sanctimony and hauteur. I still find it amazing that Haught, a Distinguished Research Professor of theology at Georgetown University (what kind of “research” do these people do?), gets paid for writing book after book, all touting the same vacuous nonsense. Whatever they pay theologians, it’s too much.

And I’ve always found it a great pity that people like Haught, or those who believe even more firmly in an afterlife, won’t ever be able to find out they were wrong. For with death comes total extinction of consciousness, and no chance to come back and tell people that there’s no reunion with God after all.

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Haught

 

 

Readers’ wildlife photographs

March 4, 2016 • 7:45 am

Reader Tony Eales sent “a selection of inverts” from Australia.

The Blue Banded Bee (Amegilla cingulata), a favourite garden visitor:

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A Flower Longicorn Beetle, Aridaeus thoracicus:

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The caterpillar of the Four Spotted Cup Moth, Doratifera quadriguttata. Cup moth caterpillars are way more interesting to look at than the sexual adults, and their common names are based on the larvae rather than the adults.

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And a male Golden Green Stag Beetle, Lamprima latreillii, a spectacular large beetle I’ve seen only once:

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And a landscape from reader Randy Schenck in Iowa, where they rise with the sun:

A Midwest sunrise.  It pays to get up.

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An optical illusion anyone can make

March 4, 2016 • 7:00 am

I’m just posting this on this cold morning because, when I visited the nearby coffee-and-bagel shop (Einstein’s) in the student union, I found a stack of those cardboard cup-holders designed to prevent you from burning your hands and suing the shop. I took two of them for the photos below. I seem to remember that Matthew put up this illusion recently, but now anyone can do it who has access to a fancy-schmancy coffee shop.

These two holders are the same size, but they don’t look it, do they?

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Don’t believe it? Here they are stacked atop each other:
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With this trick you can be the life of the party—assuming the party is held in a coffee shop.