Originally featured in The Salty Fish Bowl - July 2010
It seems I may have been a little hasty in the conclusions drawn from February’s Meanderings*, though I’m sure it’s due to some facet of Murphy’s Law, and no fault of my own. Whatever the cause, I have since learned that there are reasons to doubt the durability of my previous assertion that travelling at the speed of light is a “theoretical impossibility”. Case in point; Cerenkov Radiation.
Cerenkov Radiation (named for Russian scientist Pavel Alekseyevich Cerenkov) occurs when a charged particle passes through any given medium faster than light itself, producing a wake of electromagnetic radiation, which scientists can use to determine the speed and mass of said particle. It’s also to blame for the eerie blue glow you can find deep in a nuclear reactor’s core, were you to venture in and look around.
To learn how we can apply this to our own lives we’ll have to do a little math, or rather I’ll do a little math and let you know how it turns out.
C is the speed of light in a vacuum (299,792,458 meters per second to be as exact as necessary), but light doesn’t always travel so fast. Sometimes it has to work a little. Like most anything else, light is affected by the medium through which it travels, so when it goes through something like water, or (conceivably) jell-o, it slows down. In fact, when hurtling through water, light only travels at 0.75C. With this in mind, to travel at the speed of light we need merely build a submersible that can reach roughly 437,062,438,700 knots. This could, in effect, make us time travellers (just not the kind to go back and kill Barjavel’s grandfather), allowing us to relativistically meander into the future. Confused? Allow me to quote myself;
“The Theory of Relativity has shown…that the faster an object moves, the slower time moves for said object, in relation to other objects moving at different speeds.”*
In layman’s terms, if we spent 15 years aboard our submersible we would actually disembark 22.6778 years in the future. The possibilities for practical application of a superluminal submersible are virtually limitless;
Don’t want to be around for your kid’s “terrible twos”? Just hop aboard the HMS Leap Year for only 0.6614 years and skip ahead to the “easy threesies” (that’s a thing, right?).
Trying desperately to hang on to your youth a little longer (relative to those around you)? Forget costly surgery. Book a 6.6144 year cruise aboard the SS Time Delay to skip a whole decade, and leave everybody wondering if you’ve really had work done.
Afraid of what’s to come in 2012? All aboard the Yellow Submarine, and experience whatever cataclysm befalls us 1.5118 times faster than those who choose to tough it out (results may vary).
Of course to achieve any of this we’re going to need cooperation, and some major technological advancements, from numerous currently unrelated fields. Somehow we have to get the people at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab, the National Underwater and Marine Agency, and Carnival Cruise Lines (endorsement cheques can be sent to The Runaway Typewriter c/o The Salty Fish Bowl) together in a room with a stack of pizzas. Let me get the ball rolling by suggesting that once we’ve achieved the means of propelling a seagoing vessel superluminally, we should try to use the radiation it produces to power it in turn, creating a perpetual motion time machine. Physicists present and future, it’s in your court.
*Salty Fish Bowl #18
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Revivifly
Originally featured in The Salty Fish Bowl - April 2010
Recent Runaway Ruminations on the subject of Time and its Relative discrepancies seem fitting now, given the chronological connotation of the current issue of our beloved Bowl. Simply put, time flies, and already a year has gone by since the Bowl began to run. To Steph and Gen, congratulations on a rag well done, and here’s to another year of irreverence and literacy laced incoherence. Excelsior!
I’d like to be serious now if I may, for there is something weighing heavily on my mind. Where does one get 28 pounds each of sulphur and iron filings (separate if you please)? Free tickets to a most dramatic experiment are on offer for anybody who can help me procure these provisions.
How To Revivify A Drowned Fly
Have you ever filled a sink full of dishes and promptly fallen asleep on the couch in a quesadilla coma, discovering upon awakening a hapless fly dead by drowning in your dishwater? I don’t know about you, but I always feel bad if I kill an animal…by accident. Well if you choose to read on, the next time you find yourself in this position you’ll have a way out of potential eternal damnation for dispatching one of God’s creatures, though you may bring on similar damnation for heresy and/or alchemy and the like.
To practice at home, here’s what you need:
-Water, Wine, or some other Liquid Medium (not syrup) in some sort of receptacle
-Salt, Powdered Chalk, or Warm Ashes (not too hot)
-A Living (soon to be dead then living again) Fly
Place your living fly in the liquid filled receptacle in such a way as it cannot escape. Remember, flies are wily when faced with impending doom. Allow sufficient time to pass that your fly is certainly dead. No amount of time is too great. One cannot become overly dead.
Make sure you have an audience. You should always have witnesses when you do great things. Your memoirs will be much more convincing.
Once the fly is good and dead, remove it from the liquid medium and place it on a flat surface such as your kitchen counter, or a whale’s scapula.
Now you must gently cover the fly corpse in whichever solid medium you’ve chosen, taking care not to crush it. You don’t need much, just enough to cover it. Once the fly re-animates you want it to be able to shake off the dust and proverbial cobwebs.
Before you know it you should have a born again fly, ready once again to tread all over any food you leave out.
Now you can pat yourself on the back, or give out your phone number, because you just pulled off a feat that would most likely have gotten you killed in horrific manner not too long ago, with no chance of revivification. You’ve played God my dear reader, and it’s not over yet, because now you get to decide whether it continues to live or dies again. Thumb up or thumb down. It’s in your hands (you should probably wash your hands).
Alternate Endings:
1) Tie a string around the fly’s lifeless corpse and fly it like a kite once it’s revived.
2) Place it in a container with other living flies and see if it eats their brains.
Typewriter’s Note: I haven’t tried this experiment with any other living things, like cats or zebras, and do not condone that level of experimentation. If you choose to do so, please do not cite this source of inspiration, though if you want to smash up some spiders go right ahead.
Recent Runaway Ruminations on the subject of Time and its Relative discrepancies seem fitting now, given the chronological connotation of the current issue of our beloved Bowl. Simply put, time flies, and already a year has gone by since the Bowl began to run. To Steph and Gen, congratulations on a rag well done, and here’s to another year of irreverence and literacy laced incoherence. Excelsior!
I’d like to be serious now if I may, for there is something weighing heavily on my mind. Where does one get 28 pounds each of sulphur and iron filings (separate if you please)? Free tickets to a most dramatic experiment are on offer for anybody who can help me procure these provisions.
How To Revivify A Drowned Fly
Have you ever filled a sink full of dishes and promptly fallen asleep on the couch in a quesadilla coma, discovering upon awakening a hapless fly dead by drowning in your dishwater? I don’t know about you, but I always feel bad if I kill an animal…by accident. Well if you choose to read on, the next time you find yourself in this position you’ll have a way out of potential eternal damnation for dispatching one of God’s creatures, though you may bring on similar damnation for heresy and/or alchemy and the like.
To practice at home, here’s what you need:
-Water, Wine, or some other Liquid Medium (not syrup) in some sort of receptacle
-Salt, Powdered Chalk, or Warm Ashes (not too hot)
-A Living (soon to be dead then living again) Fly
Place your living fly in the liquid filled receptacle in such a way as it cannot escape. Remember, flies are wily when faced with impending doom. Allow sufficient time to pass that your fly is certainly dead. No amount of time is too great. One cannot become overly dead.
Make sure you have an audience. You should always have witnesses when you do great things. Your memoirs will be much more convincing.
Once the fly is good and dead, remove it from the liquid medium and place it on a flat surface such as your kitchen counter, or a whale’s scapula.
Now you must gently cover the fly corpse in whichever solid medium you’ve chosen, taking care not to crush it. You don’t need much, just enough to cover it. Once the fly re-animates you want it to be able to shake off the dust and proverbial cobwebs.
Before you know it you should have a born again fly, ready once again to tread all over any food you leave out.
Now you can pat yourself on the back, or give out your phone number, because you just pulled off a feat that would most likely have gotten you killed in horrific manner not too long ago, with no chance of revivification. You’ve played God my dear reader, and it’s not over yet, because now you get to decide whether it continues to live or dies again. Thumb up or thumb down. It’s in your hands (you should probably wash your hands).
Alternate Endings:
1) Tie a string around the fly’s lifeless corpse and fly it like a kite once it’s revived.
2) Place it in a container with other living flies and see if it eats their brains.
Typewriter’s Note: I haven’t tried this experiment with any other living things, like cats or zebras, and do not condone that level of experimentation. If you choose to do so, please do not cite this source of inspiration, though if you want to smash up some spiders go right ahead.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Nothing's Really Matter
Originally featured in The Salty Fish Bowl - March 2010
Quantum physicists tell us that 99.99% of an atom's mass is in its nucleus, which consists of (positively charged) protons and (neutral) neutrons, with the rest being made up of (negatively charged) electrons arbitrarily whizzing around (or disappearing and reappearing elsewhere) within the surrounding energy field. The reason there is such a discrepancy in the distribution of mass is that the space taken up by the nucleus is inordinately smaller than the area taken up by those unpredictable electrons. It's been reckoned that if the nucleus of an atom were the size of a grain of sand, the atom itself would be the size of a football field. Essentially what they're telling us is that matter is almost entirely made up of empty space. Non-intuitive? If this is the case, shouldn't we be able to walk through walls? Well, no. The reason we don't just pass through other objects is that most of the particles we're talking about are electrically charged, causing atoms to repel each other, on a quantum scale. The atoms in your hand repel the atoms in someone else's, and thus a high five. So, if we assume atoms repel other atoms, then not only can we not pass through things, but we never actually touch them either. If you're sitting on a chair right now, you're not actually sitting on it, but rather hovering above it.
This may seem like useless information in terms of every day life, but it can be applied practically. For instance, if you drop your mug at the coffee shop and make a mess, don't worry, the case can be made that you were never holding it to begin with. Demand a refill. If you happen to commit murder, just hire a physicist as an expert witness, and they'll tell the court you never even touched the victim. And if you're the unfortunate witness of a criminal act, just tell the cops that the crime in question was merely your brain's interpretation of the photons of light that bounced away from your eyes before ever hitting them. You didn't see nuthin'. The possibilities are endless.
This does raise some more obvious questions though, like how does sandpaper work, and why are my tires bald? If nothing ever touches, how does anything have an effect on anything else? Why do I care if I stepped in dog doo? It becomes a metaphysical problem at this point. If matter is virtually nothing, does virtually nothing matter? Applying what we now know of the microscopic world to our own lives, don't atoms seem like really tiny people? They bounce around, superficially interacting with those in their midst, but never really affecting them in any profound way. Keep upping the ante. Aren't people just like planets and stars; ever orbiting, pulling each other this way and that, but rarely having any meaningful spiritual affect on each other? From the atomic to the astronomic, it seems everything is the same.
So if everything is the same, and if everything we know is 99.99% empty (this column perhaps especially), what does it all mean? Why, and how, are we here? Are we mere byproducts of billions of years of atomic evolution, simply descendants of the first atoms? Theologically speaking, does that make Adam the first atom? I’m not sure that Faith or faith in Science will ever answer that quandary. Perhaps on some level it’s best to not worry too much about the why’s and whatfor’s, on any scale. Some things really are best left to wonder.
Quantum physicists tell us that 99.99% of an atom's mass is in its nucleus, which consists of (positively charged) protons and (neutral) neutrons, with the rest being made up of (negatively charged) electrons arbitrarily whizzing around (or disappearing and reappearing elsewhere) within the surrounding energy field. The reason there is such a discrepancy in the distribution of mass is that the space taken up by the nucleus is inordinately smaller than the area taken up by those unpredictable electrons. It's been reckoned that if the nucleus of an atom were the size of a grain of sand, the atom itself would be the size of a football field. Essentially what they're telling us is that matter is almost entirely made up of empty space. Non-intuitive? If this is the case, shouldn't we be able to walk through walls? Well, no. The reason we don't just pass through other objects is that most of the particles we're talking about are electrically charged, causing atoms to repel each other, on a quantum scale. The atoms in your hand repel the atoms in someone else's, and thus a high five. So, if we assume atoms repel other atoms, then not only can we not pass through things, but we never actually touch them either. If you're sitting on a chair right now, you're not actually sitting on it, but rather hovering above it.
This may seem like useless information in terms of every day life, but it can be applied practically. For instance, if you drop your mug at the coffee shop and make a mess, don't worry, the case can be made that you were never holding it to begin with. Demand a refill. If you happen to commit murder, just hire a physicist as an expert witness, and they'll tell the court you never even touched the victim. And if you're the unfortunate witness of a criminal act, just tell the cops that the crime in question was merely your brain's interpretation of the photons of light that bounced away from your eyes before ever hitting them. You didn't see nuthin'. The possibilities are endless.
This does raise some more obvious questions though, like how does sandpaper work, and why are my tires bald? If nothing ever touches, how does anything have an effect on anything else? Why do I care if I stepped in dog doo? It becomes a metaphysical problem at this point. If matter is virtually nothing, does virtually nothing matter? Applying what we now know of the microscopic world to our own lives, don't atoms seem like really tiny people? They bounce around, superficially interacting with those in their midst, but never really affecting them in any profound way. Keep upping the ante. Aren't people just like planets and stars; ever orbiting, pulling each other this way and that, but rarely having any meaningful spiritual affect on each other? From the atomic to the astronomic, it seems everything is the same.
So if everything is the same, and if everything we know is 99.99% empty (this column perhaps especially), what does it all mean? Why, and how, are we here? Are we mere byproducts of billions of years of atomic evolution, simply descendants of the first atoms? Theologically speaking, does that make Adam the first atom? I’m not sure that Faith or faith in Science will ever answer that quandary. Perhaps on some level it’s best to not worry too much about the why’s and whatfor’s, on any scale. Some things really are best left to wonder.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Spectral Speculation
Originally featured in The Salty Fish Bowl - May 2010
Recently, whilst frolicking amidst the mist of a public lawn moistener, I was struck by the innate beauty of the Rainbow. As I darted from one water spout to the next, I encountered a perfect circle of colour hovering before me, moving as I moved, like a spectral specter. It was breathtaking. I stood wondering where its end may be, and what might be there if I could find it; but circles have no end, and there is more to rainbows than mere beauty and the promise of gold. Rainbows are more unique, and full of more hidden treasures, than you might think.
I think it’s fair to say that most of us, at least once in our lives, have uttered something along the lines of, “Look at that rainbow,” and in most instances everybody did, but did you know that not a single one of you saw the same rainbow? It’s all about angles of perception. Light from the sun travels toward us through Space at the speed of light, until it hits something solid or is slowed down passing through an alternate medium (like a prism, or in this case moisture in our atmosphere) causing refraction. Light refraction is the result of the longer wavelengths (red) travelling faster through the moisture than the shorter wavelengths (indigo). This “bends” the light and separates the different wavelengths causing the spectrum you see in the sky. But why do we all see different rainbows? Picture yourself with a laser. If you aim it at a mirror the beam will bounce off at the same angle and hit whatever happens to be in that direction (hopefully not a somebody). Now, trying to keep your laser pointed just so, take a step to the left. Your beam should be hitting something else. Now imagine the same scenario outside, except the sun is the laser, moisture is the mirror, and you are the something. In summary, the sunlight that ends its journey in your eyes is different than that which hits your friends’ eyes, due to the angular discrepancies between yourselves and the sun. The next time you’re out with friends and see a rainbow, you can keep it to yourself, because they won’t be able to see it anyway. Be content in the knowledge that you are the only thing in existence that saw that particular rainbow.
The building blocks of the Universe. It has been theorized that the elements that make up everything we see, including you and me, originally came from stars. Stars are thought to be “Crucibles of Life,” where the necessary ingredients are brought to a boil and then blasted out into the Cosmos to become anything from planets, to people, to jalapeno poppers. How though, do scientists know what is inside a star? Quite simply, by reading rainbows. Light reacts differently when it interacts with different elements, and this can be seen in its wavelengths. With a (very) large telescope astronomers can pinpoint the light from individual stars, and with the application of a spectrograph (I’m not going to pretend I know how they work), they can determine exactly what elements reside inside. Spectrography can be used to determine types of stars, helping astronomers estimate things like age and life expectancy. It’s also used, perhaps most notably, to locate other Sun-like stars in the search for Earth-like planets, and may one day result in scientists finding somewhere else for us to live once we’ve F’ed up our own planet beyond repair.
Spectra of stars and galaxies are even used to observe the expansion of the Universe. The light from distant galaxies, has been found to be “red-shifted”, which means as the “fabric of Space” has stretched out, so have the wavelengths of the light travelling over that time. In fact it is widely believed that light from the Big Bang (approximately 13.7 billion light years ago) has red-shifted so much in getting to us that it is now actually radio waves. And we know all of this simply from looking at rainbows.
So the next time you see a rainbow, while you’re admiring it all to yourself, think on its Cosmic significance. Imagine how far the light had to travel, and all that it’s been through, only to be bent by some raindrops and splashed across the sky. Imagine what it’s trying to tell you about its beginnings, and perhaps even your own Fate.
Recently, whilst frolicking amidst the mist of a public lawn moistener, I was struck by the innate beauty of the Rainbow. As I darted from one water spout to the next, I encountered a perfect circle of colour hovering before me, moving as I moved, like a spectral specter. It was breathtaking. I stood wondering where its end may be, and what might be there if I could find it; but circles have no end, and there is more to rainbows than mere beauty and the promise of gold. Rainbows are more unique, and full of more hidden treasures, than you might think.
I think it’s fair to say that most of us, at least once in our lives, have uttered something along the lines of, “Look at that rainbow,” and in most instances everybody did, but did you know that not a single one of you saw the same rainbow? It’s all about angles of perception. Light from the sun travels toward us through Space at the speed of light, until it hits something solid or is slowed down passing through an alternate medium (like a prism, or in this case moisture in our atmosphere) causing refraction. Light refraction is the result of the longer wavelengths (red) travelling faster through the moisture than the shorter wavelengths (indigo). This “bends” the light and separates the different wavelengths causing the spectrum you see in the sky. But why do we all see different rainbows? Picture yourself with a laser. If you aim it at a mirror the beam will bounce off at the same angle and hit whatever happens to be in that direction (hopefully not a somebody). Now, trying to keep your laser pointed just so, take a step to the left. Your beam should be hitting something else. Now imagine the same scenario outside, except the sun is the laser, moisture is the mirror, and you are the something. In summary, the sunlight that ends its journey in your eyes is different than that which hits your friends’ eyes, due to the angular discrepancies between yourselves and the sun. The next time you’re out with friends and see a rainbow, you can keep it to yourself, because they won’t be able to see it anyway. Be content in the knowledge that you are the only thing in existence that saw that particular rainbow.
The building blocks of the Universe. It has been theorized that the elements that make up everything we see, including you and me, originally came from stars. Stars are thought to be “Crucibles of Life,” where the necessary ingredients are brought to a boil and then blasted out into the Cosmos to become anything from planets, to people, to jalapeno poppers. How though, do scientists know what is inside a star? Quite simply, by reading rainbows. Light reacts differently when it interacts with different elements, and this can be seen in its wavelengths. With a (very) large telescope astronomers can pinpoint the light from individual stars, and with the application of a spectrograph (I’m not going to pretend I know how they work), they can determine exactly what elements reside inside. Spectrography can be used to determine types of stars, helping astronomers estimate things like age and life expectancy. It’s also used, perhaps most notably, to locate other Sun-like stars in the search for Earth-like planets, and may one day result in scientists finding somewhere else for us to live once we’ve F’ed up our own planet beyond repair.
Spectra of stars and galaxies are even used to observe the expansion of the Universe. The light from distant galaxies, has been found to be “red-shifted”, which means as the “fabric of Space” has stretched out, so have the wavelengths of the light travelling over that time. In fact it is widely believed that light from the Big Bang (approximately 13.7 billion light years ago) has red-shifted so much in getting to us that it is now actually radio waves. And we know all of this simply from looking at rainbows.
So the next time you see a rainbow, while you’re admiring it all to yourself, think on its Cosmic significance. Imagine how far the light had to travel, and all that it’s been through, only to be bent by some raindrops and splashed across the sky. Imagine what it’s trying to tell you about its beginnings, and perhaps even your own Fate.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Relativistic Meanderings On The Way To Work
Originally featured in The Salty Fish Bowl - February 2010
It’s one of those mornings when I wake up for work and my first thought is that nothing has gone according to plan. Pondering this for a moment, while trying to absorb all the warmth from my bed before flinging the blankets aside, I realize again that there never really was a plan at all. It’s been more like a Choose Your Own Adventure story, where decisions are made on the spot, at the turn of a page;
You barely graduated high school. You can; Go to College (flip to page 153), or Join the Workforce (flip to page 375).
You have chosen Join the Workforce. With no formal education or significant work experience you can be; a Gas Jockey (pg. 210), a Labourer (pg. 124), Homeless (burn book for warmth).
I crawl out of bed and mechanically prepare for the day. Mindlessly brushing my teeth I stare into the lifeless eyes staring back into mine. Not much going on up there. I need a coffee. And a lottery ticket. One of those things will cheer me up.
Halfway to work, now with half a coffee in me, my mind cogs begin to whir again. I decide it’s about time for that plan. It seems like forever ago that I flipped to page 375. Maybe it’s time to… maybe it’s time... that’s it! The problem isn’t me, or trans fat. The real culprit is Time itself. There just isn’t enough. Doesn’t it seem like all we do is race around trying to complete the things we “have” to do, rarely ever leaving enough time to accomplish the things we “want” to do? Clearly that’s why there was no plan. There just wasn’t enough time to formulate any.
I slow down, because I don’t want to get to work before I finish this thought, and besides, I’m not paying much attention to the road ahead.
So if Time is the issue, what I need is more Time. But how does one make time?
Make Time;
1. to move quickly, esp. in an attempt to recover lost time
2. to travel at a particular speed.
dictionary.com
Ignoring wormholes and time machines, I don’t think there is any way to actually recover lost time, or at least those are thoughts for another time (no pun intended). It seems though, if we’re to believe this online dictionary, to make enough time we just need to move quickly at a particular speed. But how do we know what speed in particular?
The Theory of Relativity has shown (to those who can fully grasp it) that the faster an object moves, the slower time moves for said object, in relation to other objects moving at different speeds. So, if you were to travel to Betelgeuse (Orion’s right shoulder), 520 light years away, and back, at 99.99% the Speed of Light, it would take 1040.1 Earth years, but you would only age 14.71 years (the reason I didn’t use 100% the Speed of Light is because, according to Einstein’s Special Relativity, the closer to the Speed of Light you get, the more mass you acquire. Reaching the Speed of Light would make you infinitely massive, requiring an infinite amount of energy to move you. Because we are not currently aware of such a source of energy, nor able to harness it were we to find it, and because the human ego is far too fragile to willingly accept infinite mass, it is currently a theoretical impossibility). To figure out how much time you can make at home, just follow this simple equation:
Of course one needn’t move at such speeds to make the kind of Time we need for our petty Earthly pursuits. That’s crazy talk. 40 or 50% percent the Speed of Light would give us plenty of Time to go back to school, write that novel, or take a deep breath, and by my reckoning the energy required for such a minute amount of acceleration can be attained easily. We need only to…
Shit. I’m in the driveway.
It’s one of those mornings when I wake up for work and my first thought is that nothing has gone according to plan. Pondering this for a moment, while trying to absorb all the warmth from my bed before flinging the blankets aside, I realize again that there never really was a plan at all. It’s been more like a Choose Your Own Adventure story, where decisions are made on the spot, at the turn of a page;
You barely graduated high school. You can; Go to College (flip to page 153), or Join the Workforce (flip to page 375).
You have chosen Join the Workforce. With no formal education or significant work experience you can be; a Gas Jockey (pg. 210), a Labourer (pg. 124), Homeless (burn book for warmth).
I crawl out of bed and mechanically prepare for the day. Mindlessly brushing my teeth I stare into the lifeless eyes staring back into mine. Not much going on up there. I need a coffee. And a lottery ticket. One of those things will cheer me up.
Halfway to work, now with half a coffee in me, my mind cogs begin to whir again. I decide it’s about time for that plan. It seems like forever ago that I flipped to page 375. Maybe it’s time to… maybe it’s time... that’s it! The problem isn’t me, or trans fat. The real culprit is Time itself. There just isn’t enough. Doesn’t it seem like all we do is race around trying to complete the things we “have” to do, rarely ever leaving enough time to accomplish the things we “want” to do? Clearly that’s why there was no plan. There just wasn’t enough time to formulate any.
I slow down, because I don’t want to get to work before I finish this thought, and besides, I’m not paying much attention to the road ahead.
So if Time is the issue, what I need is more Time. But how does one make time?
Make Time;
1. to move quickly, esp. in an attempt to recover lost time
2. to travel at a particular speed.
dictionary.com
Ignoring wormholes and time machines, I don’t think there is any way to actually recover lost time, or at least those are thoughts for another time (no pun intended). It seems though, if we’re to believe this online dictionary, to make enough time we just need to move quickly at a particular speed. But how do we know what speed in particular?
The Theory of Relativity has shown (to those who can fully grasp it) that the faster an object moves, the slower time moves for said object, in relation to other objects moving at different speeds. So, if you were to travel to Betelgeuse (Orion’s right shoulder), 520 light years away, and back, at 99.99% the Speed of Light, it would take 1040.1 Earth years, but you would only age 14.71 years (the reason I didn’t use 100% the Speed of Light is because, according to Einstein’s Special Relativity, the closer to the Speed of Light you get, the more mass you acquire. Reaching the Speed of Light would make you infinitely massive, requiring an infinite amount of energy to move you. Because we are not currently aware of such a source of energy, nor able to harness it were we to find it, and because the human ego is far too fragile to willingly accept infinite mass, it is currently a theoretical impossibility). To figure out how much time you can make at home, just follow this simple equation:
Of course one needn’t move at such speeds to make the kind of Time we need for our petty Earthly pursuits. That’s crazy talk. 40 or 50% percent the Speed of Light would give us plenty of Time to go back to school, write that novel, or take a deep breath, and by my reckoning the energy required for such a minute amount of acceleration can be attained easily. We need only to…
Shit. I’m in the driveway.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Invenginosity
It’s hard to be stimulated when you can’t find anything stimulating. It’s seems like everywhere you look things are lacking substance, stability, god damn ingenuity. When is the last time you heard about an invention for some kind of rocket ship that’s powered by dirty diapers? Never! Because society has lost its inventiveness, or at least I have, and that counts for at least 0.73% of inventions by people who actually have a clue. I’m beginning to rant. I’m just frustrated that since I began my Intellectual Hiatus there hasn’t been a single technological advancement, that I can think of. Sure, they fired up the Large Hadron Collider, but that was invented years before I began my Cerebral Spring Break, and has yet to show us anything we can rub in the noses of Big Religion. That, hopefully, is about to change. I have invented “The Invention Machine”. Now at first glance The Invention Machine doesn’t look like much. It doesn’t look like something that could take the most boredinary mind and make it extraboredinary. It doesn’t look like the kind of thing that could turn scrambled eggs into a Western Omelete. What it does look like, is a four foot by four foot chunk of yellow shag carpet.
You might ask yourself, what the hell does yellow shag have to do with omelettes, intellect, and ingenosity? I’ll tell you. Have you heard of Ben Franklin? Did you know his eyesight was so bad that he had to invent eyeglasses just to be able to reach his laudanum? That man was an addict.
When I step on The Invention Machine it’s like stepping on a small expanse of live sheep’s back in wool socks, because for reasons that will soon become clear, standing upon The Invention Machine works best in wool socks.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The Invention Machine is not the ShamWow. You don’t have to give your credit card number to some crackhead who talks a good game but has obviously never done a hard day’s work in his life unless you count sitting on the toilet all day at truck stops waiting for somebody to nudge his foot from the next stall. The Invention Machine can be made from simple household items. Here’s how:
First, find some shag carpet. Next, cut out a four foot by four foot chunk. If you’re too young to use a knife, you shouldn’t be reading this.
Double next, take the chunk of carpet and lay it down on a hard surface, preferably not carpet. Stand on the carpet chunk. Very important; you must be dry from head to toe. Do not try to use it straight out of the shower. You may think this constitutes a fresh perspective, but really you just look like an idiot, standing naked on a patch of puke coloured carpet.
Second, wear wool socks. The variety doesn’t matter. Pretentious Mountain Equipment Co-op wannabe’s will tell you that Merino Wool is the only wool, but don’t let’s be silly. Before Al Gore invented the wind, oil was the only power that held any sway, and we all know that day has come and….. well never mind.
Shuffle your feet. Shuffle your feet in place like you’re in the Speed Walking event at the Olympics, except you’re doing it faster than an Actual Walking pace, and it’s not a pathetic excuse for somebody who skipped gym class in high school to be an athlete for a day.
Once you’ve been shuffling long enough that your feet feel like two fleshy lightning bolts, stop. Raise your hands, and simultaneously place the tips of your index fingers against your temples. If executed properly you should be incapable of reading further.
Now that you’re awake you should drink some fluids. Electrocution can be draining. You also probably shat yourself. Pull yourself together!
Now, before you lose sight of the point of this exercise, try to think of something. Think of anything, but bear in mind that the more outlandish the idea you try to think of, the more inventive the idea you may…think of…
I am going to zap myself.
So anyway, here are some starter ideas for the beginner. See if you can zap yourself into expanding on these static brainstorms:
1) Some kind of mind enhancement device.
2) A unicorn with plates like a stegosaurus.
3) A couch that is so comfortable you never have to leave it, to work, or to piss.
4) A way to piss on your couch without consequence.
5) A tent with a TV/Satellite dish built into one side so that you can watch Setanta Sports in the morning. Also, some way to wake up to hot sausages while camping. Gay or otherwise.
To conclude, drink rum. It’s a great way to end up writing a rambling piece in the middle of the night about inventing ways to invent shit. Then put that crap on the internet, because if Stephen Colbert ever reads it you might become famous.
You might ask yourself, what the hell does yellow shag have to do with omelettes, intellect, and ingenosity? I’ll tell you. Have you heard of Ben Franklin? Did you know his eyesight was so bad that he had to invent eyeglasses just to be able to reach his laudanum? That man was an addict.
When I step on The Invention Machine it’s like stepping on a small expanse of live sheep’s back in wool socks, because for reasons that will soon become clear, standing upon The Invention Machine works best in wool socks.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The Invention Machine is not the ShamWow. You don’t have to give your credit card number to some crackhead who talks a good game but has obviously never done a hard day’s work in his life unless you count sitting on the toilet all day at truck stops waiting for somebody to nudge his foot from the next stall. The Invention Machine can be made from simple household items. Here’s how:
First, find some shag carpet. Next, cut out a four foot by four foot chunk. If you’re too young to use a knife, you shouldn’t be reading this.
Double next, take the chunk of carpet and lay it down on a hard surface, preferably not carpet. Stand on the carpet chunk. Very important; you must be dry from head to toe. Do not try to use it straight out of the shower. You may think this constitutes a fresh perspective, but really you just look like an idiot, standing naked on a patch of puke coloured carpet.
Second, wear wool socks. The variety doesn’t matter. Pretentious Mountain Equipment Co-op wannabe’s will tell you that Merino Wool is the only wool, but don’t let’s be silly. Before Al Gore invented the wind, oil was the only power that held any sway, and we all know that day has come and….. well never mind.
Shuffle your feet. Shuffle your feet in place like you’re in the Speed Walking event at the Olympics, except you’re doing it faster than an Actual Walking pace, and it’s not a pathetic excuse for somebody who skipped gym class in high school to be an athlete for a day.
Once you’ve been shuffling long enough that your feet feel like two fleshy lightning bolts, stop. Raise your hands, and simultaneously place the tips of your index fingers against your temples. If executed properly you should be incapable of reading further.
Now that you’re awake you should drink some fluids. Electrocution can be draining. You also probably shat yourself. Pull yourself together!
Now, before you lose sight of the point of this exercise, try to think of something. Think of anything, but bear in mind that the more outlandish the idea you try to think of, the more inventive the idea you may…think of…
I am going to zap myself.
So anyway, here are some starter ideas for the beginner. See if you can zap yourself into expanding on these static brainstorms:
1) Some kind of mind enhancement device.
2) A unicorn with plates like a stegosaurus.
3) A couch that is so comfortable you never have to leave it, to work, or to piss.
4) A way to piss on your couch without consequence.
5) A tent with a TV/Satellite dish built into one side so that you can watch Setanta Sports in the morning. Also, some way to wake up to hot sausages while camping. Gay or otherwise.
To conclude, drink rum. It’s a great way to end up writing a rambling piece in the middle of the night about inventing ways to invent shit. Then put that crap on the internet, because if Stephen Colbert ever reads it you might become famous.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Self Induced Insomnia
There was a time I did all of those things with the fervor of an Evangelist, and I’d like that time to return, so I’ve come up with a plan. The last time I found myself in this state it was a dire state indeed. I wasn’t sleeping much at all, drinking cappuccinos like Gatorade, and generally shuffling through my days like a blind deaf mute with his shoelaces tied together. I hit rock bottom. Eventually though, I had a re-awakening, a renaissance if you will, and my mind came racing back like a death proof car, smashing conventional wisdom to bits, and leaving gory, severed limns all over the information highway. My plan now is to plummet back to those depths. I need to hurl myself into the Loneliness Chasm with only my wits and a small pocket knife for protection. I need to immerse myself in my pain once more, to feed off it, and let it feed off me. Maybe a little water boarding of the brain is in order. Then, when I’m convinced I’m drowning, I’ll pick myself back up and write a novel, or maybe a magazine article, that will literaturely blow your minds.
Monday, June 9, 2008
River of Thought
My stream of thought is immense. It’s a vast flowing river. It has many tributaries, bringing with them knowledge from the Far Reaches. It is slow moving, but ever changing. It meanders to and fro, always searching for new sources, always threatening to burst its banks. My river of thought is warm and inviting, clear and refreshing. You can frolic at the water’s edge, or let yourself drift away on its gentle current and be whisked away to witness wonders beyond the scope of your Mind's Eye.
My river of thought is deep, its true depth as yet unrevealed. It is a seemingly endless torrent of contemplation, analysis, and introspection. Most dare not venture far from the surface, for the warmth and clarity that are at first so inviting soon fade to blackness and cold that pervade the soul. My river of thought is deep, much deeper than it might seem at first glance, and the depths are not to be plumbed without due care. There are things in the deep that are best left undisturbed.
Many streams are shallow. They may move quickly, but they don’t possess any significant depth. Many of these are the recipients of few tributaries, and meander very little. As a result, these streams of thought carry with them precious little nutrients. They don’t have the capacity to sustain an abundance of life. Most peter out in lakes or small ponds, never contributing to much more than the local tadpole population. Some are so lacking in substance that they run dry when things heat up, and many are so polluted and befouled by the course they take that they spread only evil thought, contaminating everything in their midst.
The final destination for my river of thought is unclear thus far. It could dry up like so many others, but I do not think this is its fate. Its thirst for knowledge is too great, and its sources too substantial for such an insignificant end. More likely it will soldier on, surviving drought and hardship, and eventually achieve that which all streams are meant to achieve; the Holy Grail of streams of thought, the
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Bare Knuckles
I have a new motto that I’m really excited about. It goes; “Never get excited about anything because you know you’ll only let yourself down.” I’m really going to try to stick by this one, because it’s the only motto that has ever rung so true. I do that. I get excited about lots of shit, and I always quit. I don’t do all of my favorite things; read, write, play drums, watch/play soccer. My life is like a steeplechase, except that every obstacle is a mirror that punches me in the face and tells me it hates me, and I’m always in last place. It’s a bare knuckle bout against my shadow that I have no intention of winning. I’m just waiting for myself to tap out.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Re-New Chapter
Have you ever been in the middle of a really good book, but for reasons unknown you just stop reading? You think about it occasionally, and say to yourself, “I really should start reading that book again,” but you don’t. It can take a long while to get back to reading again, and by then you’ve forgotten where the story was going. When that happens, I usually read the last chapter over, to refresh my memory, and remind myself of where I was. That’s sort of what the last year of my life has been like. I stopped moving forward, started stagnating. Eventually I forgot which way I was headed, so I skipped back a chapter to try to remember. The thing about re-reading a chapter though, is that nothing is new. There are no surprises, and the more you read, the more you realize you always knew what happens. I’ve been re-reading that chapter for some time, but I’m finally on the last page. I know how it ends, and now all I need to do is power through so I can begin a new chapter, and get on with this book. That’s always exciting.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Idle Hands
Lately, writing has taken a backseat to another of my strengths (and not a good backseat, like my proverbial driver, he’s been quite silent of late). The strength I refer to is the result of a life of complacency and/or malaise; slacking. Now, I’m not a slacker in the conventional sense, the Costanza sense. I’m a hard worker when moved. Give me a shovel and I’ll dig a tunnel to the moon if you want me to. My inner sloth however, bears its claws when it comes time to use my mind. Let’s say, for instance, that I have a blog, which I use to hone my writing skills, in hopes of one day penning a children’s book or some such thing. Let’s imagine I have loyal fans, all of whom wake up salivating each morning, thirsty for a healthy word shake in blog format. And let’s make pretend, just this once, that I try to always have something new there to nourish them. I spend most of my days trying to think of something sweet to write that night, so my fans can begin the following day with a nice warm word lump in their brain bellies. But that’s when my mind so often plays possum, or sloth, or whatever. Anyway, I’ve been a very lazy boy lately, in a literary sense.
I’d like to say I’m going to turn that back around again post haste, but let’s face it, I’d like to say a lot of things. “Professor Fingerbottom,” but that’s just fun to say. I have had a few ideas for blogs lately, like the one where I compare my life to that of Jesus (by the way, can anybody think of any reason that I may be a martyr?), but nothing stuck with me, other than this pesky Tinea. Maybe I’m out of ideas. Is the mine played out? Are there no gems left to dazzle my readers? I’ve done zombies, done birds, done gymnastics…what’s left? My mind is a blank canvas and I feel as though I’m out of brushes, or paint, or whatever. How can this be?
There is actually one reason I can think of for my lack of limn of late. I’ve pretty much become a Guitar Hero hero. I’m a Rock God on the small plastic button guitar. I can play Paranoid flawlessly behind my back, behind my head, pretty much behind any part of my body. I used my Linus to play Welcome to the Jungle, and even lit the guitar on fire to play Knights of Cydonia, but liquid plastic dripped onto my sack and I had to smother the fire with the soil from a house plant and dip my danglies in yoghurt for about two hours (hey Catfish, what would that be called?) I also suffered a rotator cuff injury trying to “drop the needle” mid-Mississippi Queen. It was an ugly incident. I’m just not as spry as I once was. I don’t have the cute, nimble fingers of a Kevin Shen, but I do pull shapes and make guitar faces like Mick Jagger (if Mick Jagger played Guitar Hero…or guitar) while I shred through Dragonforce’s Through the Fire and Flames, on medium difficulty. Perhaps I am spending a little too much time on this.
I guess I can justify all of it by saying that in spending my time playing Guitar Hero instead of doing something productive, I have, in effect, been physically training to be a writer by nimbling up my fingers for prolonged writing sessions, and virtuosic word sprints. Now I’ll be able to shred through a stream of consciousness odyssey with nary a worry about writer’s cramp. I’ve basically trained my way from amateur writer to Olympic writer, in that I’m still amateur, but that much more fit. And now that I’m back to “lean writing machine,” I can concentrate on the mental aspect, and try to shake that sloth off my back, or monkey, or whatever. First up: some quality hammock time with my newest writer’s reference, The Writer’s Journey – Mythic Structure for Writers. Stay tuned.
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