Many of the frantic calls from the Boston area last Sunday night were people fearing the worst—a downed plane, a missile, a meteorite, alien invasion. The timing of it seemed strange to me because I couldn't sleep Sunday night...or, I should say, I didn't try all that hard until about two o'clock. The History Channel unleashed more greatness in the form of a special two-hour thingy on meteors and meteorites. I'm a kid in a candy store when it comes to all things cosmic.

There have been thousands of significant meteorite incidents throughout history and pre-history. That much we know. The giant craters all over the planet are there to remind us. But what if they also remind us of how we wee humans have misinterpreted them throughout history? Not knowing what these awesome sights were thousands of years ago, it would make sense that God would be ascribed to them, in one way or another. What if the star of David was a meteorite? It's not something that anyone would have ever seen before, and if it happened in a critical time, conclusions might have been drawn—out of hope, desperation, and need.

What if the story of Sodom and Gomorrah and the leveling of the city in fire and brimstone, which so many people believe was the targeted will of God, was a meteorite which struck the Red Sea, creating a violent explosion the size of an atomic bomb, in turn creating earthquakes and a tsunami that swallowed the city whole? Seriously, what if? And what's more likely, that it was the intervention of a great deity, or a rare but inevitable cosmic disaster for which they had no scientific or rational explanation?

It definitely sets the mind alight.

A more direct example is in Mecca. Every year millions make their pilgrimage to Mecca to walk around the Kabaa seven times and then kiss the sacred "right hand of God", which is a special stone called a betyl—a meteorite. This tradition pre-dates Islam. I don't know much about this, but the story basically goes like this: Abraham was given the stone by the archangel Gabriel. It's said that the sacred stone came down white (like meteors do as they burn in the atmosphere) and turned black (like meteorites do) because it has absorbed so many sins for humanity. It later became a sacred stone for Mohammed, who cemented it into a corner of the Kabaa. This stone is kissed millions upon millions of times each year. Fascinating, we humans.

So what if...what if most if not all of our religions are based on misunderstandings throughout history? So much religion is based on events approximately two thousand years ago. Might they all be different cultural reactions to a great cosmic event, or series of smaller events? A grand myth catalyst that spawned various worlds of thought, like the Big Bang sending matter outward to become galaxies through time?

It could explain why native cultures outside of the region most people call the birth of the big three (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam) have such vastly different gods and myths. The native cultures of South America had their gods, but their verbal history doesn't have the characters and events of the big three. Nor do the norse tribes in prehistory, or the Native Americans and Eskimos and Australian tribes. Maybe they simply weren't close enough to the event or events.

What if, though? What if it's possible to boil down the inhumanity of such things as the crusades, the Spanish inquisition, the Salem witch hunts, the Holocaust, and the terrorism we see today, to simple misunderstandings of cosmic events deep in our history, and the space created between divergent cultures whose separate beliefs about the same event(s) have evolved into dogma? I think that was a run-on sentence.

What would a higher intelligence, observing us like B.F. Skinner observed rats, conclude? I don't know, but we seem like a pretty strange species to me.

Here's a good headline: Scientists solve unpopped popcorn. We could use a few more headlines like that. I'd like to wake up one morning to "Scientists solve mystery of unmatched, missing socks".

There has been, and there will continue to be, a legion of startups vying for a sliver of Google's pie. The latest is become.com, which appears to be banking everything on the idea that many google users are unaware that Froogle exists.

We've seen awful halftime shows and awfully hilarious halftime shows, but this one takes the cake as the king of both categories. Click Skip to ignore the ad.

T-mobile, for whatever reason, is offering a "What will you look like in 40 years" thingy. Submit a photo, select your general racial profile, and watch the years unfold on your face. This is obviously directed at the mobile-crazed generation Y (or is it Z?), perhaps eager to start planning their first face lift. And I doubt this little app is going to work for the elderly.

Cheers to these guys for solving some of the most difficult engineering problems under the most difficult circumstances...perhaps ever. But isn't it a bit late to bestow these important honors? It might have been nice for these guys to get some credit when they still had their lives ahead of them.

Okay, this is really funny. Want to see the earliest commercial for Microsoft Windows? How early? A clock is one of its selling points. What's doubly funny is the performance of Stever Ballmer. Yes, that there is a billionaire CEO.

I tend to like any new product or idea that makes me think of The Jetsons. This might not have that spacey aspect to it, but "instant buildings" does have a nice, Jetsonian ring, doesn't it?

Sigh. A swarm of people have been gathering to pray at a HIGHWAY UNDERPASS because moisture forced a crack in the cement, which formed a stain. I've talked about this sort of thing before, but it was funny then. It's a bit sad now. COME ON, people! Ask yourselves the right questions here! Try this one for starters: If Mary wanted to make an appearance, why wouldn't she do so in a manifestation befitting the glory you ascribe to her? Why an icky yellow stain under an expressway?

I'd start there. And I'm sure that someone, if not the entire throng in chorus, would answer with the universal Get Out of Jail Free card:

I respect other people's faith, but this is deep-end luncacy no matter how you slice it. I imagine there are many sane, faithful people out there who are wishing that folks like this would stay off their side, so to speak. Regardless of whether it's fair or not, we associate certain things like religion and the paranormal with their fringe element. Comedians don't make fun of normal people of faith. They make fun of these people. Faith is good for society. It can bind people that would otherwise be disinterested strangers. But this sort of thing adds distance between people. Are they even aware of their dilutive effect on their own beliefs?

That would be my next question. I suspect they'd hand me this:

I don't think I'd bother asking about their familiarity with circular arguments or Occam's razor. I wouldn't want to see the card for that one.

Bulls vs. Bears, Part 88,234,405

A week ago, the headline from Wall Street was Dow tanks nearly 200 points, Worst week since March '03. At today's close, the headline read Dow posts best one-day gain in two years. So, when I saw the following cartoon this evening, I laughed a lot harder than was perhaps justified.

The 2004 U.S. tax code, including all instructions needed to comply with it, is a whopping 61,224 pages long. I'm not going to bother commenting on this. I think that fact alone says all there is to say.

I checked out Saturday Night Live the other night for the first time in a long time. I'm not sure if I laughed once. It was sad, not funny. Sad because the writing was so utterly horrid, so completely devoid of wit, that for the first time in my life I felt bad for guest star Tom Brady. That "Falconer" sketch was pathetic. Eighth grade writing and terrible delivery does not a comedy make.

Where have you gone, Chris Farley? A nation turns its not-laughing eyes to you...Woo woo woo...

I don't know about you, but I'm completely poped out. For the past two weeks, every time I visit a news Website or flick on the tele it's pope this, pope that. I respect that this transition means a lot to many people, but please, did we really need THAT MUCH COVERAGE of black smoke versus white smoke? I understand this is a rare historic moment, but I can't stand another five minutes of papal news. I'd change the channel but they're all PTV right now.

I'll say no more. But I'll say this: It's a good thing these popes get to change their name to grand names that invoke tradition and popes past, like the new Pope Benedict XVI. Otherwise, Pope John Paul II would be succeeded by Pope Joe Ratzinger, and I'm not sure how much weight a Pope Joe could carry.

And one more thing: When I made my 2005 predictions this past December 31st, I predicted that Pope JPII would not die. The only reason I made this prediction was to counter all the predictions I found that said he would die. I also predicted that the 2005 market would outperform 2004. So far, that's not looking good either. Next time I'll consult higher, more reliable sources before making such rash predictions.

Lest I forget...

"You will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
-Mark Twain

It was just a matter of time before the big newspaper companies started realizing that their Internet "versions" would become more profitable than their paper business. You know the world has changed when you can say that the end of the paper news is nigh.

Rupert Murdock gives a boost to blogs and the inevitability of their continued mass adoption.

The most disturbing question surrounding Meridian Bioscience's potentially cataclysmic mistake has to be why? As CDC Director Dr. Julie Gerberding said, "It is almost impossible to believe they did not know they were dealing with H2N2."

This news doozy reads like a Shakespeare in the (trailer) Park performance summary.

I figured this had to be true by the look my dog gave me when I slipped on a magazine, banana peel-style. (Bruised coccyx).

If you haven't seen Google's latest gadget, check it out. Unfortunately, they don't have it working for Firefox users yet, so temporarily switch to Internet Explorer if you have to. In the upper-right corner, click Satellite. Enter your address or whatever else comes to mind. You might even find a 2-pixel picture of yourself mowing your lawn. Enjoy.

Perhaps only McDonald's could bring sucking to a level this egregious. Paying hip-hop "artists" to include menu items in their song lyrics? This is a perfect union of poor quality; the food, the music, the idea. It's all bad, yo.

I'd like to celebrate one of our better emotions, amazement. Yea, it's one of our most versatile emotions, but I like it most for its staying power. Moments of pure amazement stay emblazoned on our minds for life. Take the JFK assassination, or the first space shuttle disaster, or 9-11 of course. I remember everything about that day, and so do you. But amazement comes in many flavors, and I'd rather not dwell on the brand of amazement associated with horror, fear, and panic. I want to raise a glass to the other end of that spectrum.

I'd like to know what positive moments of pure amazement you've had that you'll always remember. For me that first moment came at age five. It was an autumn day in 1974. I was sitting at the edge of the creek in our back yard with my friend Jim, talking about who-knows-what. Our legs dangled over the edge of a six-foot drop to the water. We were tossing pebbles into the creek when Jim noticed a dead snake floating downstream. We watched until it disappeared around the corner. Then we noticed a log float by, and watched it take its turn. Then another, bigger log. Then a tennis ball. Then some toys floated past us. I remember a fake plastic lawn mower, a frisbee, and a football. An exciting game of "what's next" ensued. Guesses included G.I. Joe, Stretch Armstrong, Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, and a battleship.

What was next was a picnic table, crossed legs up. Then a swingset. Then a grill lid. Then a lot of brush, more logs, more toys, and many unidentifiable things which complicated the point system of our great new game. Of course by this time, the water level was nearly at our overhanging feet, and the current was quickening. Neither of us sensed the danger. It was simply the coolest thing, ever. But within minutes it was finally clear that something was wrong with this scene. The creek was enormous and growing out of control. We stood up and backed away slowly. My eyes were as big as saucers. A couch went by, bobbing up and down at about 5 mph. There were curtains, chairs, wood of various shapes and sizes, a patio umbrella, a statue. You name it, it floated by.

Then my grandmother's voice, sounding so alarmed and urgent. "Get away from the creek! Get inside now!" Turns out, the floor of the Erie Canal had burst through to a sewer tunnel that was being dug underneath it. Water gushed into the historic town-within-a-town known as Bushnell's Basin, and washed away several homes before they could fix the problem. Every back yard along Irondequoit creek was stripped clean.

Our house was nestled on a rise, so we survived without any damage. My father quickly packed us into the...station wagon (only kids of the 70s and early 80s remember that term) and we drove off to higher ground, not knowing how much worse it would become. The water was up to the bottom of the car door as we drove away. I could see giant carp flopping around on our front yard. All this in a span of 30 minutes.

So yea. That's was my first moment of pure amazement. If I could remember the first light of birth, that might trump it. But alas, I don't remember that. And I'm damn glad, too.

What was yours?

I'm not sure if there's any week of the year that perks me up as much as Master's Week. Those of you who can't relate to watching golf on tv probably punctuated that sentence with a pffft. Only four minutes of advertising per hour, the best players shooting it out on the most beautiful and unique golf course in the country, and Jack Nicklaus is in the field. Sit back with your favorite beer, turn up the silence, and let the screen wash over with green.

They say there's no place like Augusta National. It's part golf course, part living museum. Not a single blade of grass is out of place. Every year after the first practice round the players are asked what it's like out there. "Perfect" is always the most common description.

Augusta National really is alive. Every year it changes to address a vulnerability that the players exposed the year before. Almost every year they add some new, perfectly crafted devilry to the mix. A new fully grown tree here, a longer row of bushes there, tightened fairways, deeper bunkers, modified slopes, a little extra undulation here, less there. New problems and new surprises that conspire to keep the scores up. All this "new" within a wrapper loyal to tradition first. It's an interesting contradiction that helps make The Masters the best golf tournament of the year.

If you disagree with this, you're wrong. And I could stick my tongue out to prove it. Masters week also heralds the new season, and in this climate, spring is a Very Big Deal. In the backyard we have little flowers shooting up through what looked like permafrost only a week ago. Now we have the sounds of geese flying in formation, people actually walking to their destinations, that unmistakable smell in the air, and you know...an infusion of optimism. Winter takes its toll. I NEED Masters week. It's like a tune-up. Frankly, I feel like skipping down the street. Anyone else get like that?

No?

Just me?

Kay.

Oh, and did I mention that Jack is back in the field? (Albeit with a heavy heart.) Who's gonna win? I don't know, and unlike football games, I don't really like guessing golf outcomes, for whatever reason. But I like reading other people's predictions.

I stumbled on the Website of the Genetic Savings & Clone on April 1st. I figured it had to be an April fool's gag. The name and logo (below) are just too damn perfect to be real.

Then I saw the ad: "Cat Cloning Price Reduction!" Slowly, the figure $32,000 fades in. I kept browsing and chuckling, chuckling and browsing, clickety clickety click, Ha Ha.

This is no joke. This company is for real, and if they haven't caught on yet with the collagen-injected, botox-shootin', jawline stretchin', nose reducin', chemical peelin', 4-chihuahua jet set divorcees, it will. And Japan. If it's outrageous, you can always count on Japan.

Then I remembered a charming comment Nikki made about a month ago. We were out walking Ab (chocolab, age 8). Not particularly lab-savvy, I asked, "How long do labs typically live, anyway?"

"Forever."

So I brought up the GS&C the other day, just for the sake of conversation. It went something like this: "Yea, it's true. When Ab's nearing her dust phase, we could take her to a participating vet for sampling, and then whisk her DNA off to the GS&C and they'll have Ab II gestating in some poor bitch in matter of days."

[Brief pause]

"For 32 thousand bucks."

[Long pause]

"Nah"

Many will think this is the greatest thing since [your favorite cliché here], but it's not something I'd ever consider. And not just because of that price. As hilarious as it is, they'll get it. Ab II would have to have an almost exact series of experiences and training to really be Ab II instead of just Spot, the dog that looks eerily similar to Ab. Ab II wouldn't have the same little habits and favorite places to poo. She probably wouldn't howl in her sleep or carry my socks into hard-to-reach places. I might be able to train her to do some of those things, but there's nature, then there's nurture, and then there's that random 5% or so.

I think it's that random 5% that makes the individual, moreso than the size and color and spots and bark and general disposition. I think it would cheapen Ab to create an Ab II.

So no thanks, but I'll be watching out for that GS&C IPO.

Labels: advertising