Being Polite
I still haven’t given up on my dream of becoming an hilarious web-based comic strip writer! Behold! The Cyclops Toast and Jonathan Livingston Flashunit in “Being Polite!” Okay, now I’ve given up on my dream of becoming an hilarious web-based comic strip...
American Motels
Not only would I like to live forever, I’d like to have lived forever. I want to see everything that ever was, is, and will be. Sadly, stupid mortality will get in the way and my experience of the universe will be incredibly limited. I’ve seen some impressive things (and a lot of crap too) but not enough for my liking, and every time I look back at historical photos or writings or consider the various scientific conclusions of evolutionary progress on this planet I get a welling up of a sense of, well, not quite nostalgia – since I never saw or lived through these things in the first place – but something akin to it. A temporal wanderlust, perhaps. For instance, take the following postcards of American motels from the glorious era of American motels (whenever that was) uploaded by Jordan Smith: I’m not American, I wasn’t alive in the forties, fifties, or sixties, and I can’t help but imagine that a lot of these places would have been just unbelievably terrible places to stay in. But don’t they look fantastic anyway? There’s a wonderful style there that’s gone now. But it’s only just gone. In the grand scale of things I missed out on seeing these with my own eyes by a tad less than a smidge of a fraction. In a word: buggerations! Below I’ve selected a handful of my favourite motels from the postcard collection. Check out the entire set (linked in the paragraph above) and subscribe to Jordan’s In The Heart Of Downtown site to be kept up-to-date with every new American motel discovery too. Alexandria Bay in New York is the location of Captain Thomson’s Motor Lodge, featuring air conditioning and private balconies over the water. Of course, wood panelling is present too. You have to have wood panelling. What’s slightly more interesting about the motel room pictured is the size of the beds. Two beds, I understand. Two double beds… has implications. This motor lodge may have catered for large people. Alternatively – and I’m favouring this thought – it may have been popular with swingers. Look at that couple by the window. They’re looking out for beautiful people in polyester suits and flowery dresses to join them for an afternoon romp. You know they are. This is the Colonial Statler Hilton Inn, just twenty minutes from downtown Boston, and it’s not hard to love this place instantly. A swimming pool in a dome; if that doesn’t scream The Future to you then you’re not seeing the world through my eyes. What’s even better than a motel with a Future Pool?...
Portsmouth Skeptics In The Pub
At the risk of treading on the toes of Strong Island which does a sterling job of talking about and promoting local endeavours in and around Portsmouth, and at the risk of talking about and promoting local endeavours in and around Portsmouth (something really quite alien to these particular interweb shores), and at the risk of linking the upcoming royal wedding with critical thinking and pubs I thought I’d just promote a local endeavour in and around Portsmouth whilst also linking the upcoming royal wedding with critical thinking and pubs in a manner that just may hook any oddball on the net who decides to combine those subjects in a search term. Have you heard about Skeptics In The Pub? No? Oh, but you should! Even though they spell skeptics with a ‘k’. But you never talk about that. First rule of Skeptics Club and all that rot. So, Skeptics In The Pub is the name given to a regular social event at various venues in various countries on various planets in various solar systems careering through various galaxies speeding away from other various galaxies and occasionally merging with other various galaxies whilst spreading out in various universes in various multiverses in various supermultiverses in the one all-encompassing great big suede wallet of supermultiverses carried around by God in his back pocket. The purpose of the pub meetings is to discuss or listen to topics on sceptical subjects such as: religion, lol homeopathy, pmsl can Intelligent Design explain Ray Comfort? how did we not know George Michael was gay? is crystal energy the only genuine alternative to bowel surgery? is there a conspiracy to spread negative press about use of probes in alien abductions? The pub meetings take place in a pub. We’ve thought about having them take place in a cemetery in order to throw off the government agencies who monitor our activities for subversive plots against William and Kate (more on them soon) but we’re all scared of ghosts. So they take place in a pub. This means we’re able to drink which has two benefits: alcohol allows us to think more clearly (or, at least, think we’re thinking more clearly, which is half – if not three-fifths – of the battle), and alcohol also clouds brain emanations which means meetings can take place without the need for silly tinfoil hats. Let’s see the UK secret service – screw you MFI! – steal our thoughts now! I know what you’re thinking (behold my Uri Geller levels of unearthly powers!); you’re thinking: gee mister, that sounds swell as a ripe peach! Can I come along? I’m sorry but...
Richard Madeley’s Ghost Cat!
I was lucky enough to listen to everyone’s favourite Madeley, Richard, on the radio on the way into work today. This experience came about through a combination of me always listening to the radio while commuting, choosing to tune into Radio 2, and the time being a little after eight in the morning during a period when Richard Madeley is sitting in for Chris Evans in his regular slot. You will note that these matter-of-fact occurrences just happened to coincide and that there is no immediate need to exclaim “Holy halibut! It’s the work of angels! Explain that Dawkins!” It’s quite important to note that. So, back to that there radio programme… Madeley related a story – a true story because someone he knew told it to him – about a ghost cat. A summary of the story follows: Some time ago a man – let’s call him Caron Keating’s brother Paul because that’s his name and there’s no escaping the shame of idiocy here – went to Ireland and, while there, hopped in a taxi to visit the place where his dad was buried. Arriving at the cemetery he realised he couldn’t remember which grave was his father’s and looked up and down for some time in vain. Suddenly, he spotted movement and, following it, discovered a large, grey cat sunning itself on a grave. The grave – you won’t be at all surprised to hear – was his father’s! The cat scarpered just like a cat might do if it were a cat. Trying to pray at the grave, Paul was distracted by the cat which reappeared and purred; a very spooky thing for a cat to do unless that cat were really a cat and not a sentient brick in a cat suit. His praying ruined, Paul returned to the taxi with cat in tow, and struggled to get away from the cat’s persistent following. The cat clearly wanted attention. Very, very spooky. For a mushroom. Not so much for a cat. A few days later Paul visited his brother and mentioned the cat. His brother went very quiet and pulled out an old photograph of their dad that he had apparently hidden from Paul for some reason all his life. The photo was of the father, younger (since photographs record moments that happened in the past), and with a grey cat! “Is that the cat?” asked Paul’s brother, pointing at the vintage polaroid’s three inch by three inch faded image of a man with a moggy. And do you know what? It was! Paul couldn’t explain it. Richard Madeley couldn’t explain it. Nobody could explain...
The English Tea Ceremony
I’m something of a drinks expert. Something. Ask me anything about any drink and I can impart some knowledge about it. Water? Hard water tastes better than soft water. There! That’s some quality drinks expert knowledge right there. Real ale? Awesome! That sort of drinks expert analysis only comes free right here. Campari? Satan’s bitter, bloody spunk. I feel your mind expanding with these tidbits of expert knowledge. Well, get ready to explode! I’m about to tell you all about the English Tea Ceremony. Tea is England’s national drink, yet if you mention tea ceremonies it’s to the Far East that everyone turns; Japan, China, Vietnam, Lowestoft. Stop looking that way! Turn back and look at England. We’ve got your tea ceremonies covered with regional variations that will make your head spin and today I’m going to step through the process of a specific English tea-making ceremony that I like to call "The Proper Way To Make A Lovely Cup Of Tea." 1. Type Of Tea There are many types of tea – Assam, Earl Grey, Darjeeling, Yellow, Mister – but they generally all suffer from one flaw when it comes to tasting: they aren’t very nice, and that last one will punch you when you try to check it out. In addition to the types there are a number of delivery systems: leaves, bags, hypodermic needles. Of these three, leaves will make you choke and apparently my almost child-friendly packaging for neOnbubble Injected Tea isn’t good enough for Sainbury’s. For a proper cup of tea one needs to find teabags with a specific blend and a specific shape. The shape of the bag is very important. A square bag in a round mug causes all sorts of geometric problems when it comes to tea-taste dispersion through the water (didn’t that sound scientific?). A pyramid-shaped bag channels energy from the ethereal plane through to the base of the mug upsetting the delicate balance of life force pervasive in the infusion (didn’t that sound like a load of old claptrap?) The type of tea you want, therefore, is Tetley Round Teabags. No other choice will do. 2. Heating The Water Some people advocate the use of stove-top kettles or cauldrons or setting the shower to its hottest setting but, for me, an electric kettle is the simplest way to get the water to the correct temperature. It is vitally important that you not let the water boil dry: this will leave you with no water at all and your tea may then not be as good as it could be. Fortunately, with an electric kettle this is not likely to...
Do Vaccines Cause Autism?
Reproduced with permission from the neOnbubble Know You Some Science series of student learning guides. What Is A Vaccine? The name "vaccine" comes from the latin word vacca meaning "cow". A vaccine is a microscopic, biological crib note written on leather that includes diagrams of a disease along with suggestions for defeating it in glorious intracorpus battle. The vaccine is introduced to the body in any of a number of ways (orally, by injection, osmosis, gentle persuasion, etc.) and the body files the information on the crib note away for later use. Are Vaccines Good? Good is a subjective term. Vaccines help your body cheat death or crippling illnesses. If you would rather be alive than dead then you should conclude that they are good. If you would rather that more people – possibly yourself included – spent their lives in pain, defecating themselves, drooling, and being pushed around in wheelchairs then you should conclude that they are bad. Antivaxxers think that vaccines are bad. What Is An Antivaxxer? There are two types of people who can properly be labelled "antivaxxers". The first type is those who harbour a grudge against the manufacturers of a particular type of carpet cleaner, quite likely as the result of misuse and subsequent trips to hospital emergency rooms. These people, despite their fondness for air pressure-related sexual shenanigans, are at least somewhat scientifically-minded, embracing the use of technology and experimentation in order to facilitate personal pleasure. The second type of people are not scientifically-minded. These people associate vaccinations with infant death or disability through the tried-and-tested (-and-rejected by fans of the brain) method of putting two and two together and getting three. Do Vaccinations Cause Autism? A vaccination caused me to take a day off school once but I can assure you after an extensive search of Wikipedia that a throbbing arm and nausea are not symptoms of autism. Why Do Some People Associate Vaccinations With Autism? The brain is very good at pattern-matching, predicting future events based on experience – touch fire, fire make hand go ouch, not touch fire again because fire is ouchy – and this process of observation and deduction is the cornerstone of good science. But it’s not all of good science. Good science involves repeated tests and predictions to corroborate findings or rule theories out in order that the scientific finding is not one borne of bad luck, good luck, or improper test conditions. Antivaxxers engage in bad, amateur, scientificish science ("New Improved Sciencique™") which makes sweeping declarations of assurety based on – occasionally – one observation, but more often far fewer than that. These same people,...
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