Monthly Archives: July 2011

Big Bang? Let there be Light?

In an earlier post, I wrote that:

The problem for any honest theist is,
“What if it isn’t true?”
The problem for any honest atheist is,
“What if it is true?”

Ultimately both represent ways of looking at the universe. There is no factual conclusion, no proof, about either one; both are matters of faith and belief.  Science can argue all it wants that the Logic and Scientific Method is superior to believing in an ineffable reality, but given all we do know and all we don’t know, in the end it is still just a worldview.

Make no mistake. I am far more a scientist than a theist. (And to the extent I’m a theist, I’m far more a deist than theist, which means I can accept the idea of a Creator (or Creators), but I’m not too sure about the Presence of a Daily Hand. Specifically, I very much doubt that prayer is other than a form of personal meditation; I very much doubt Anyone is Listening.)

I do think Logic and the Scientific Method are far superior…

For some things. For many things. For many, many things.

But not for every thing.

It is a Yin to the Yang of what for now let’s just call meta-reality.

That science clearly works is amply demonstrated in everything from ships to radio to HD TV to robots on Mars. Math, a big part of science and logic, clearly also works (for many things, but not every thing).

Math describes so many aspects of life so well that it’s spooky. It forces the Plato and Aristotle distinction: Does math make reality; or did we just invent it so it describes reality.

Math is funny due to infinity (as in counting to) and infinite things (like how the digits of pi go on forever). The idea of an infinite collection of things, like hotel rooms, creates paradoxes, which suggests math is made up. And the simple ratio between a circle’s radius and rim creates a magic number that no math formula completely describes.

And yet, various maths do describe how reality behaves in eerily accurate fashion. The behavior of light, the path of a cannon ball, waves on the water; math describes them wonderfully well. Math is fascinating and cool, but I’ll leave that for another article.

The more I learn about the physics behind the Big Bang, the more it sounds just as fantastic as, “Let there be Light.” Or whatever world-creation myth or universe theory you prefer.  They all sound equally preposterous and equally fantastic to me. An age-old philosophical conundrum, “Brain in a Jar,” points out that it’s almost impossible to tell if this is the Matrix, Memorex or Reality.

It may sound preposterous that the universe was created as a conscious act of some kind by an incredibly powerful mind, but consider exactly what the Big Bang is.

Quantum physics has a well-established principle, called the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. It’s a law of physics, and it says that the more you narrow down certain aspects of reality, the more other aspects become not narrowed down. In fact, when you really crank on the narrowing down of one, the other property jumps all over the place. Seriously all over the place.

Two of these see-saw properties are space and energy. The more you narrow down space to a point, the more the energy value of that point jumps all over the place. If you narrow space down to a nearly infinitesimally small point, the energy can vary so much that it is statistically possible for it to be enough to make a Big Bang.

In this view, everything—you, the city around you, the earth, the sun, all the stars, all the galaxies, everything—is the result of a (wildly improbable, but possible) energy fluctuation of an infinitely small point. Einstein taught us that energy and matter are but two sides of one coin, so where you have a huge amount of energy, you can have a huge amount of matter. A whole universe of matter.

A question that occurs to me is that, against what background did this take place?  If spacetime was created by the Big Bang, if our laws of physics were created by the Big Bang, by what laws of physics, and in what environment, did the Big Bang occur?  If the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle applies to physics in our spacetime, does it equally apply to the non-spacetime before the Bang?

So take your pick. Math simulation, Matrix machines, created by God(s), quantum fluctuation, turtles all the way down.  They’re all preposterous; they’re all fantastic.

Believe anything that suits you, that seems right, but be honest that it might be something else.  No matter what you think it is; it might be something else.

Good general principle in life, actually.


Sideband #22: Perfect Margarita

Now that Sidebands have turned 21 they can have alcohol, so…

Seems that just about everyone has a “perfect” margarita recipe. Not wanting to be left out of the crowd, I’ve decided to give you mine.

This recipe is based on the incredibly inexpensive, wondrously potent, double margaritas my friend, Nancy, and I used to drink at El Coyote in Hollywood long, long ago. Even back then, it was hard to believe that much punch came in a glass for only $1.95 USD. It took me years of experimenting, and several false trails, to find a similar taste and potency, but finally I stumbled on the “secret” … pineapple juice!

I won’t say that it’s the ultimate margarita. I won’t say that it’s the world’s greatest margarita (although I kinda think so). I’ll let you decide for yourself. I could provide references, but you should try one on your own…

So without further ado, here’s my “perfect” margarita recipe:

1 part tequila
1 part orange liqueur
1 part lime juice
1 part pineapple juice

As you can see, it’s a very easy-to-remember recipe. Just throw in equal parts of all the ingredients! And, in fact, the proportions are not critical. You can measure them or use the “glug, glug, glug” technique: just pour in an equal number of “glugs.”

A note about the ingredients: There is some debate as to whether using prime tequila and liqueur really makes any difference. One belief is that, once you add the lime and pineapple juice and blend with ice, any advantage of prime tequila is lost. Certainly you don’t want to use rot-gut, but it’s probably a waste to use your very best. Save that for shooters!

While I normally like my margaritas on the rocks (no salt, please), these seem to work best as “frozen.” That is, toss the mixture and some ice in a blender and make a slushy! (Frozen margaritas should never be served with salt, by the way. This is doubly-so for strawberry (and similar) margaritas, which should always be served frozen style.)

And be warned: the pineapple juice makes them taste like they’re not that strong, but they are! And, of course, drink responsibly and for God’s sake don’t drive, operate farm machinery, fly planes or attempt complicated math problems.


Sideband #21: Perfect Popcorn

For the record, here’s a way to make some very tasty popcorn:

First, start with good gourmet popcorn. Orville Redenbacker‘s is pretty decent, although I have noticed that it sometimes creates a bunch of smaller, broken pieces. You definitely don’t want the stuff that comes in a one-pound bag for 39 cents. The thing about good popcorn is that it all pops. When I cook up a batch of Orville’s, it’s usually the case that there’s only a few kernels that don’t pop. And it’s not uncommon to find none.

Second, fry it in oil. Hot air poppers are only fit for making packing material. (On the other hand, they make excellent packing material.) You can, as I did for many years, just use a big pot (for instance, a large dutch oven). Or you can get a Whirley Popper. I use a Whirley popper now, and they are excellent!

As for the oil, now I prefer a good olive oil, although I used various canola oils for many years. I do not put butter on my popcorn, so the oil I use to pop it is the “grease” applied. I put just enough in the pot to wet the bottom third or so of a kernel.

For topping, I mix up a batch consisting of a good bit of Parmesan cheese with some Mrs. Dash Garlic & Herb, red pepper, black pepper and garlic powder. You can invent your own; I’ve used the Parmesan cheese alone, the pepper alone and the Mrs. Dash alone.  All good!

So, in goes the oil and the traditional three kernels. Turn the heat up to max and as soon as the three kernels pop, dump in the rest of the corn. I’ve found that 1/2 cup of Orville’s in my Whirley popper is about the perfect amount.

As soon as the popping begins, or even after you dump in the kernels, I’ve found turning the heat down helps. (I’ve got an electric stove; not sure if this is important for gas.) I turn it down to 7.5 or 8 (assuming it goes to 10).

For a Whirley popper, crank the handle at a medium pace. It may all be in my head, but I reverse direction every 10 seconds or so. Once the popping begins, it tends to happen quickly, and at some point the whirley thingy will jam. I use the pop handle to jiggle the pot at that point.  If you’re using a dutch oven, agitating the popcorn is important; you want to keep it moving.

As soon as the popping stops, take it off the heat and dump it into a paper grocery bag. Paper, not plastic! I double-bag to eliminate leaks. Dump the topping into the bag and shake gently.

Decant into a big bowl and enjoy!

Microwave popcorn? I did go through a microwave popcorn phase—mostly out of sheer laziness. It’s okay if you really have no other choice, but that stuff is pretty awful. And it really stinks.  If you make it at work, you should be aware that it is very likely everyone around you hates you. I’ve heard that some work places have actually banned its use.


Sideband #20: Spock is not impressed

My contribution to the latest internet meme:

Nuf sed,  yeah?


Sideband #19: LHC

The previous article contains a bit of doggerel I wrote as an informal writing assignment on a current events/blogging site I inhabited for a while a few years back. One of the other regulars, sometimes held online “parties” complete with musical playlists (suggested YouTube and other musical links) and multiple, simultaneous conversations. Basically a kick off article followed by a very long, branching tree of comments.

We all had to refresh the article a lot to see the new comments, but it was fun.  Especially as the evening wore on and some of us got a bit tipsy. (All from the safety of our homes, I point out. Virtual online parties: no one drives home!)

Anyway, in the course of one such evening, the “poem” below popped out of my mind. The Large Hadron Collider (LHC) at CERN was just beginning its testing, and the “it’ll destroy us all” fervor was at its peak.

You probably need a bit of background in sub-atomic physics to completely get the poem below. Word choice, word position, line count and syllable count are all part of the poem. As a reference hint, there are three families of matter, each contains two quarks (six quarks total). And hadrons are particles made of quarks.  That’s all the clues you get.

Here’s the poem:

In honor of the LHC at CERN bringing about the end of the universe…

Little Hadronic Couplets

Up ’til now we’ve not gone,
Down into a black hole.
They say, last time’s a Charm,
And BOOM, now we’re all Strange.
Bottom line’s no Beauty,
Truth was once at the Top

If you’re deeply concerned about the LHC destroying us all, you can check this link:

Has the Large Hadron Collider Destroyed the World, Yet?

And if you’re genuinely concerned, don’t be… nothing can go worng…


In the View of his Car

A few years ago, I spent some time blogging and commenting on another site that wasn’t really a blogging site, per se. It was supposed to be a news-related site, and all blog posts were meant to be about current events (which could include book and movie reviews among other topics). Naturally long-time users found a lot of latitude in what constituted current events. One of the reasons I dropped off was the poor signal/noise ratio, but the main reason was the sense of restriction imposed by the current events policy.

One of the big regulars was a guy who liked to stage writing exercises for those interested.  He would offer a topic and we would all dash off a blog article related to that topic. Below is my contribution to one such exercise. The topic was to write a piece from the point of view of our car. I’m no poet, but I thought this turned out rather well.

In fact, it almost scans well enough to be set to music.  (Needs a bit of work on the metre of the “Avatar” line, though. No, don’t offer suggestions… I’d rather do it myself, thanks!)

In the View of his Car?

In the view of his car?
You have no idea.
Do you know who I am?
I’m the best of my kind.
I’m a Jeep Cherokee.
Don’t you know what that means?
In the view of his car?
My tale’s not a good one.
I was bought on a whim.
“Always wanted a Jeep!”
I’m a Grand Cherokee.
Don’t you know what that means?
In the view of his car?
Well, what I saw was this:
Me traded in by an Owner who cared.
Not even cleaned, only been there since three.
Then they come along, the wife, kids and he.
Test drive, signed contract; new driveway for me.
Since then my status has slipped a few pegs.
Gets me around; that is all that he cares.
At least I get gas and checks ‘neath the hood.
(A bath now and then would be very good.)
I’m dented, I’m rusting, my glass is cracked.
My tabs and his license needs be renewed.
One-twenty K miles; could go many more.
Could change be in sight; a trade in again?
In the view of his car?
No, it just can’t be done.
To him just a car; not his avatar.
I’m a Jeep Cherokee.
Don’t you know what that means?

In fact, I did end up selling it to a friend who bought it for his kid. I have no doubt it found a great home and continues to give great service. And that’s the second vehicle I’ve loved (despite what the car seems to think) and gone on to sell to a young man who, one hopes, loves it as much as I did.

What am I driving now? Well there she is on the left. (She? He? Whatever. I don’t really personalize my car, no matter what the poem above suggests—it was a writing assignment!)

That’s a Ford Fusion (Sport!). When the time came to buy a car, I was (a) definitely going to buy an American car, and (b) going to buy a Ford. For one thing, they were the only car maker that didn’t need to be bailed out due to short-sighted business practices. And it had been a long time since anyone in my family had owned a Ford, so I thought it was time to give it a try (I’d owned a Dodge (sweet car: Dodge Shelby Charger!) and a GMC Jimmy).

Gotta say: no complaints!  Love the car. Love talking to the radio. Love plugging in the iTunes and saying, “Play Bruce Cockburn” (and it figures it out!).

If the car has a flaw, it’s that it goes way too fast way too easily!


Sideband #18: Another Star Dies

Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Dough boy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Dough boy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects: Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies and Captain Crunch were all there. The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Dough boy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Dough boy rose quickly in show-business, but his later life was filled with turnovers.

He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes.

Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Dough boy is survived by his wife Play Dough, three children: John Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

 

(What, you thought this would be about Amy Winehouse??)


The Bug In The Machine

I’ve been a computer programmer for 33 years. Some of my early work is still stored on punched paper tape! And if this computer programmer has a particular skill, it is probably in the area of debugging.

Those who know me know I suffer from a life-long hearing defect and have, thus, grown up being pretty good at figuring stuff out based on scant evidence. This is precisely one of the required skills for debugging, and let me just say that I’ve gotten very, very good at it over the last 33 years.

But for the first time, I have an actual bug in my machine. An honest-to-god, six-legged thing crawling around in my machine.

Continue reading


Sideband #17: Ready when you are, Mr. DeMille

You may have heard the punchline, “Ready when you are, Mr. DeMille!” Sometimes it’s abbreviated to, simply, “Ready when you are!” It’s dubious that it ever happened, and it’s not a parable—there’s no moral behind it. But it is a pretty good joke! In fact, it’s one of my favorites, and I’ve used the punchline many times.

For your dancing and dining pleasure, here it is:

Cecil B. DeMille (known as “C.B.”), the famed producer and director of cinematic biblical epics, was directing a massive battle scene that involved a vast set filled with thousands of extras and animals. The climactic scene involved a massive dam bursting and flooding a valley, washing away the battle and destroying the very large, very expensive set. (And don’t worry, the extras and animals were all stunt extras and stunt animals; no harm came to any person or creature.)

Even in the days of Hollywood’s great wealth and indulgence, it would be possible for only one ‘take’. There was no way to rebuild such a huge set. (And, of course, this was long before the days of CGI, so everything had to be actually built.)

So C.B. covered himself by having the final scene filmed by four cameras. Each camera was in a slightly different location. Walkie-talkies allowed the director to communicate with each one.

The moment came, and the scene went off without a hitch. Everything went perfectly!

The dust settled, the water drained away, the extras and animals were all checked to ensure they were okay. The set, the dam and the valley, were completely destroyed (as expected), and there was no chance the scene could ever be repeated again.

Mr. DeMille picks up the first walkie-talkie and checks with the first cameraman to see if he filmed the scene successfully.

“No, I’m sorry Mr. DeMille, I’m afraid not,” comes the reply, “There was a piece of film caught in the gate and it blocked most of the image. I’m afraid we didn’t get anything you can use.”

That causes C.B. some concern, of course, but he had three other cameras, so he picks up the second walkie-talkie and asks the second cameraman if the scene was filmed successfully.

“Oh, Mr. DeMille,” comes this reply, “I’m so sorry, but it turned out the battery pack was dead, and before we could hook up another, the scene was over!”

Now C.B. is starting to really worry. Two out of four cameras missed the scene, and he’s down to the last two. His heart pounding, he picks up the third walkie-talkie and contacts the third cameraman.

The reply caused sweat to break out on his forehead, “Mr. DeMille, I’m very, very sorry, but the film loader put the film in wrong, the film didn’t run and we got nothing.”

At this point C.B. is in full panic mode. Hands shaking so badly he can hardly work the fourth walkie-talkie, he calls the last cameraman.  To give himself a chance to calm down he starts by asking a few questions.

“Have you checked the film gate to make sure it’s clear,” he asks? “Oh, yes, Mr. DeMille, it was the first thing we did,” comes the reply! This makes C.B. feel there is hope.

“And have you checked the battery pack to make sure it’s charged,” asks DeMille? The reply was heartening, “My assistant did that while I was checking the gate. Fully charged!”

Thinking this might work out after all, C.B. asks the final question, “How about the film, was it loaded correctly?”

Comes the immortal reply, “I checked that myself! We’re ready when you are, Mr. DeMille!


Sideband #16: And maybe the horse will sing

The title of this Sideband, “And Maybe the Horse will Sing,” comes from a story told by the ancient Greek philosopher Herodotus. This is a parable about hope and possibilities; about how you never know what might happen even when it seems that all hope is lost.

This is a story of a thief, Nasrudin, who was caught at his thievery and, by the laws of his land, sentenced to die. Hauled up before the king, he was asked by the Royal Presence: “Is there any reason at all why I shouldn’t have your head off right now?”

To which he replied: “Oh, King, live forever! Know that I, the mullah Nasrudin, am the greatest teacher in your kingdom, and it would surely be a waste to kill such a great teacher. So skilled am I that I could even teach your favorite horse to sing, given a year to work on it.”

The king was amused, and said: “Very well then, you move into the stable immediately, and if the horse isn’t singing a year from now, we’ll think of something interesting to do with you.”

As he was returning to his cell to pick up his spare rags, his cellmate remonstrated with him: “Now that was really stupid. You know you can’t teach that horse to sing, no matter how long you try.”

Nasrudin’s response: “Not at all. I have a year now that I didn’t have before. And a lot of things can happen in a year. The king might die. The horse might die. I might die.

“And, who knows? Maybe the horse will sing.”


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