Curio Cabinet / Daily Curio
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FREEChemistry Daily Curio #2015Free1 CQ
The radiation levels are rising again in Chernobyl, Ukraine. This time it isn't because of a nuclear meltdown. Over the weekend, a pyromaniacal simpleton set multiple fires "for fun" in the radioactive Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. Unfortunately for the firestarter—and everyone else—the wind carried his small fires into the woods. Some 100 hectares have burned thus far. Thankfully, the flames have been hemmed into around 20 hectares by a team of 100 firefighters. Regardless, the flames kicked up dormant radiation. In scorched areas, Geiger counter readings rose from the usual 0.14 to 2.3 micro-sieverts per hour (uSv/hr). A sievert is a unit of ionizing radiation tailored to measure effects on human health. Generally, the average person safely intakes 0.00365 sieverts of radiation each year. The 2.3 micro-sieverts at Chernobyl amount to 0.0000023 sieverts per hour. So that number times 8760 (the number of hours in a year) equals 0.02 sieverts per year. Not exactly ideal for long-term wellbeing. Naturally, this has locals spooked. That includes Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, which is situated just 60 miles south of Chernobyl. As a quick refresher, the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant experienced a catastrophic meltdown in 1986. Since then the radiation levels have waned. Still, the animals in the area show slight mutations (many discomforting). The fact flames can so easily stir radiation back up into the air is an unsettling realization. And to think Chernobyl is set to become an official tourist attraction. I won't stop anyone intrepid enough to go there. Just make sure to safely dispose of any cigarette butts!
Image credit & copyright: Yaroslav Yemelianenko/AP
The radiation levels are rising again in Chernobyl, Ukraine. This time it isn't because of a nuclear meltdown. Over the weekend, a pyromaniacal simpleton set multiple fires "for fun" in the radioactive Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. Unfortunately for the firestarter—and everyone else—the wind carried his small fires into the woods. Some 100 hectares have burned thus far. Thankfully, the flames have been hemmed into around 20 hectares by a team of 100 firefighters. Regardless, the flames kicked up dormant radiation. In scorched areas, Geiger counter readings rose from the usual 0.14 to 2.3 micro-sieverts per hour (uSv/hr). A sievert is a unit of ionizing radiation tailored to measure effects on human health. Generally, the average person safely intakes 0.00365 sieverts of radiation each year. The 2.3 micro-sieverts at Chernobyl amount to 0.0000023 sieverts per hour. So that number times 8760 (the number of hours in a year) equals 0.02 sieverts per year. Not exactly ideal for long-term wellbeing. Naturally, this has locals spooked. That includes Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, which is situated just 60 miles south of Chernobyl. As a quick refresher, the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant experienced a catastrophic meltdown in 1986. Since then the radiation levels have waned. Still, the animals in the area show slight mutations (many discomforting). The fact flames can so easily stir radiation back up into the air is an unsettling realization. And to think Chernobyl is set to become an official tourist attraction. I won't stop anyone intrepid enough to go there. Just make sure to safely dispose of any cigarette butts!
Image credit & copyright: Yaroslav Yemelianenko/AP
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FREESTEM Daily Curio #2014Free1 CQ
Since COVID-19-related quarantines popped up around the world, humans have been way less active. Surprisingly, the planet has been moving less, too. Over the last few weeks, seismologists have been reporting decreased seismic activity worldwide. These localized drops in activity began immediately after people were herded into lockdown. One seismologist at Belgium's Royal Observatory, Thomas Lecocq, observed the ambient seismic noise plummet by 30-50 percent in Brussels when schools and businesses closed. It's no mystery why the drop was so pronounced in the city. Cars, factories, trains, buses, and even pedestrians contribute to background noise that disturbs the Earth's crust. Cities like Brussels and London have seen the greatest seismic noise reduction in their financial districts. This is fortuitous for seismologists. The drop in seismic background noise allows these experts to better measure the Earth's crust, detect weaker earthquakes, and isolate aftershocks. Seismic analysis was "basically useless" in many areas of Brussels prior to quarantine, says Lecocq. Add the fresh availability of information to other pluses of the COVID-19 lockdown, like decreased pollution on a global level and rebounding nature. Hey, I'm just glad to see seismologists are making the most of the crisis while the rest of us quake in our boots!
Image credit & copyright: NASA/Victor Tangermann
Since COVID-19-related quarantines popped up around the world, humans have been way less active. Surprisingly, the planet has been moving less, too. Over the last few weeks, seismologists have been reporting decreased seismic activity worldwide. These localized drops in activity began immediately after people were herded into lockdown. One seismologist at Belgium's Royal Observatory, Thomas Lecocq, observed the ambient seismic noise plummet by 30-50 percent in Brussels when schools and businesses closed. It's no mystery why the drop was so pronounced in the city. Cars, factories, trains, buses, and even pedestrians contribute to background noise that disturbs the Earth's crust. Cities like Brussels and London have seen the greatest seismic noise reduction in their financial districts. This is fortuitous for seismologists. The drop in seismic background noise allows these experts to better measure the Earth's crust, detect weaker earthquakes, and isolate aftershocks. Seismic analysis was "basically useless" in many areas of Brussels prior to quarantine, says Lecocq. Add the fresh availability of information to other pluses of the COVID-19 lockdown, like decreased pollution on a global level and rebounding nature. Hey, I'm just glad to see seismologists are making the most of the crisis while the rest of us quake in our boots!
Image credit & copyright: NASA/Victor Tangermann
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FREESports Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Equestrian sports are a strange beast. This was proven again at last Saturday's Kentucky Derby when the clear favorite, Omaha Beach, dropped out hours before the race with a breathing issue; and then the clear winner, Maximum Security, was disqualified after the race was over for drifting a few feet to his right around the first turn. But at least in horse racing the objective is clear: to finish first. In the second most popular horse sport, dressage, the scoring is more like ice skating. Riders guide their horses through a complex combination of gaits. Most horses can ambulate in four ways: walking, trotting, cantering, and galloping. But a few breeds can also amble—a slightly comical lateral stride that is faster than trotting but slower than galloping, and smooth enough for long rides. So smooth, in fact, that there is an Icelandic drinking game called beer tölt that is played on an ambling horse while carrying a large beer stein. The winner is the one who spills the least (and then drinks the most). A recent study in Current Biology uses the DNA of ancient horses to explain how ambling horses spread throughout the world. It's a follow-up study to the 2012 discovery that ambling is expressed by a single gene, called DMRT3, or the "gatekeeper" mutation. This new study finds that Vikings conquered lands in England during the ninth century, where ambling horses were indigenous. The Vikings took the horses to Iceland, where they bred them for their ability to comfortably carry passengers long distances thanks to their ambling gait. The Vikings then used the horses in trade throughout the Middle East and the Caspian Sea. Eventually, they spread around the world. In fact, if you have ever taken a casual horseback riding trip with a tour company, the chances are you rode an ambling horse of Viking descent. If that's the case, the next time I go on a ride I'm definitely playing beer tölt.
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Equestrian sports are a strange beast. This was proven again at last Saturday's Kentucky Derby when the clear favorite, Omaha Beach, dropped out hours before the race with a breathing issue; and then the clear winner, Maximum Security, was disqualified after the race was over for drifting a few feet to his right around the first turn. But at least in horse racing the objective is clear: to finish first. In the second most popular horse sport, dressage, the scoring is more like ice skating. Riders guide their horses through a complex combination of gaits. Most horses can ambulate in four ways: walking, trotting, cantering, and galloping. But a few breeds can also amble—a slightly comical lateral stride that is faster than trotting but slower than galloping, and smooth enough for long rides. So smooth, in fact, that there is an Icelandic drinking game called beer tölt that is played on an ambling horse while carrying a large beer stein. The winner is the one who spills the least (and then drinks the most). A recent study in Current Biology uses the DNA of ancient horses to explain how ambling horses spread throughout the world. It's a follow-up study to the 2012 discovery that ambling is expressed by a single gene, called DMRT3, or the "gatekeeper" mutation. This new study finds that Vikings conquered lands in England during the ninth century, where ambling horses were indigenous. The Vikings took the horses to Iceland, where they bred them for their ability to comfortably carry passengers long distances thanks to their ambling gait. The Vikings then used the horses in trade throughout the Middle East and the Caspian Sea. Eventually, they spread around the world. In fact, if you have ever taken a casual horseback riding trip with a tour company, the chances are you rode an ambling horse of Viking descent. If that's the case, the next time I go on a ride I'm definitely playing beer tölt.
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FREEStyle Daily Curio #2013Free1 CQ
Charlemagne, also known as Charles the Great, was born on today's date in 742… or 747… or maybe 748. Nobody knows for sure. One thing we do know is that for a man who would become known as "The Father of Europe," Charlemagne kept his wardrobe surprisingly modest. Don't be fooled by the modern depiction of him shown above. The Frankish king who conquered half of Europe typically wore the standard clothing of his people: a blue cloak, tunic, hose, a linen shirt, and maybe a jerkin of otter skin in the winter, for a Game of Thrones flair. He despised playing dress up, and generally limited his displays of opulence to a sword with a bejeweled hilt. But even then, he sported more practical weapons whenever possible. There were exemptions to Charlemagne's usual digs, however: when he had to attend ecclesiastical ceremonies. Even though he loathed foreign clothing (which contrasted Frankish simplicity), he donned Romanesque robes in the company of the Pope. In turn, Charlemagne vented his disdain for high fashion on his own advisers. On one occasion, some of his courtiers returned from a mission wearing fashionable clothing gifted to them while abroad. These gaudy outfits were festooned with ribbons and feathers, and the courtiers were eager to flaunt them. Charlemagne responded by immediately whisking them off on a hunt without sparing them time to change. The path he picked was mired in glades, thickets, briars, and rainfall. Once the miserable hunt ended, Charlemagne forced his shivering courtiers to then attend his every need in their disheveled, dripping garments until midnight. The next morning, the king finally launched into a bizarre but well-intentioned rant about how the courtiers should never let their manhood fall victim to foppish luxury. I've heard of workplace dress codes, but never any like Charlemagne's policy—not exactly what I'd call casual!
Charlemagne, also known as Charles the Great, was born on today's date in 742… or 747… or maybe 748. Nobody knows for sure. One thing we do know is that for a man who would become known as "The Father of Europe," Charlemagne kept his wardrobe surprisingly modest. Don't be fooled by the modern depiction of him shown above. The Frankish king who conquered half of Europe typically wore the standard clothing of his people: a blue cloak, tunic, hose, a linen shirt, and maybe a jerkin of otter skin in the winter, for a Game of Thrones flair. He despised playing dress up, and generally limited his displays of opulence to a sword with a bejeweled hilt. But even then, he sported more practical weapons whenever possible. There were exemptions to Charlemagne's usual digs, however: when he had to attend ecclesiastical ceremonies. Even though he loathed foreign clothing (which contrasted Frankish simplicity), he donned Romanesque robes in the company of the Pope. In turn, Charlemagne vented his disdain for high fashion on his own advisers. On one occasion, some of his courtiers returned from a mission wearing fashionable clothing gifted to them while abroad. These gaudy outfits were festooned with ribbons and feathers, and the courtiers were eager to flaunt them. Charlemagne responded by immediately whisking them off on a hunt without sparing them time to change. The path he picked was mired in glades, thickets, briars, and rainfall. Once the miserable hunt ended, Charlemagne forced his shivering courtiers to then attend his every need in their disheveled, dripping garments until midnight. The next morning, the king finally launched into a bizarre but well-intentioned rant about how the courtiers should never let their manhood fall victim to foppish luxury. I've heard of workplace dress codes, but never any like Charlemagne's policy—not exactly what I'd call casual!
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FREEWork Daily Curio #2012Free1 CQ
As COVID-19 afflicts us, there's something more coveted (and necessary) than toilet paper—ventilators. That's why General Electric workers staged a protest Monday to demand that their employer produce more of the life-saving devices. These machines assist patients with respiratory conditions. A breathing tube is inserted into a sedated patient's mouth, down the windpipe. A readout on the respirator then allows medical staff to observe and tweak the patient's oxygen mix as necessary. GE is primarily known for its various aviation and electronics products. But it's also the producer of some of America's highest-grade respirators. So when GE announced it was laying off 10 percent of its aviation workforce and half its maintenance staff, socially-distanced picket signs were raised. Protestors have two complaints. The first pertains to the drop in turbine demand due to the tanking airline industry. GE, rather than retrofit its turbine plants to produce more ventilators (thus keeping workers employed while saving lives), shrank its aviation workforce. According to GE, the layoffs will save the company "$50 million to $1 billion." The protestors' second gripe is that GE is set to receive a generous payout from Congress' recent $2 trillion stimulus package. Which seems like a slap in the face for GE's tax-paying employees. To be fair, GE and its partner Ford have already doubled their ventilator manufacturing capabilities, and express fear they can't handle much more. Meanwhile, we're left fearing for our well-being.
Image credit & copyright: IUE-CWA
As COVID-19 afflicts us, there's something more coveted (and necessary) than toilet paper—ventilators. That's why General Electric workers staged a protest Monday to demand that their employer produce more of the life-saving devices. These machines assist patients with respiratory conditions. A breathing tube is inserted into a sedated patient's mouth, down the windpipe. A readout on the respirator then allows medical staff to observe and tweak the patient's oxygen mix as necessary. GE is primarily known for its various aviation and electronics products. But it's also the producer of some of America's highest-grade respirators. So when GE announced it was laying off 10 percent of its aviation workforce and half its maintenance staff, socially-distanced picket signs were raised. Protestors have two complaints. The first pertains to the drop in turbine demand due to the tanking airline industry. GE, rather than retrofit its turbine plants to produce more ventilators (thus keeping workers employed while saving lives), shrank its aviation workforce. According to GE, the layoffs will save the company "$50 million to $1 billion." The protestors' second gripe is that GE is set to receive a generous payout from Congress' recent $2 trillion stimulus package. Which seems like a slap in the face for GE's tax-paying employees. To be fair, GE and its partner Ford have already doubled their ventilator manufacturing capabilities, and express fear they can't handle much more. Meanwhile, we're left fearing for our well-being.
Image credit & copyright: IUE-CWA
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FREESTEM Daily Curio #2011Free1 CQ
Tired of dictating orders to Siri or Alexa? Well there may be a new voice-free option for gadgets coming in the not-so-distant future—A.I. that transposes your brain activity to written text. The concept may seem far-off or dystopian, but the University of California, San Francisco, has gotten us one step further in a recent experiment. The study's researchers first enlisted four epileptic individuals with preexisting electrode brain implants for seizure-monitoring. After tethering the electrodes to brain monitors, the researchers then had each test subject read aloud a list of 50 sentences multiple times. Each sentence was simple. One, evidently inserted by an '80s R&B fanatic, read "Tina Turner is a pop singer." As the subjects read aloud, their corresponding brain activity was converted into strings of numbers by a machine-learning algorithm. The spoken audio was also fed to the algorithm, in hopes the machine could match each audio snippet with the speaker's numeric chunk of brain activity. Through trial and error, the algorithm began to pick up on patterns in the numerical data. It could then convert those sequential patterns back into language. Once acclimated, the algorithm was tasked again with monitoring the test subjects as they spoke. This time, the algorithm could translate their speech to print. With mixed results, of course.
The algorithm successfully transposed the words and brain activity of one individual with a sentence-by-sentence accuracy rate of 97 percent. In other words, just three percent of each transposed sentence needed tweaking. Others, not so much. Sentences like "Those musicians harmonise marvellously" were decoded as "The spinach was a famous singer." Still, the machine-learning algorithm used in this study shows incredible promise. Why? Because most algorithms used in previous studies required millions of hours of practice, while this one used under 40 minutes per individual. Which is to say, it's very efficient relative to similar learning algorithms. It's great news. The benefits are profound for mute individuals or those stricken with locked-in syndrome, in which someone is fully aware but stuck in a non-communicative paralysis. The ability to speak purely through brain activity would allow these individuals to not only live robust social lives, but also have their voices heard during medical emergencies. There's another plus for those of us unnerved by the rapid (and often unrestrained) progress of technology—it's highly unlikely this kind of tech could be used to read our minds any time soon. That being said, the researchers of the experiment believe it's time we start discussing philosophical, legal, and ethical parameters for such a possibility. Sorry, couch potatoes. You still have to yell at virtual assistants or—and I know, it's so much work—press your thumb down on a remote.
Image credit & copyright: Andrew Ostrovsky/Getty Images
Tired of dictating orders to Siri or Alexa? Well there may be a new voice-free option for gadgets coming in the not-so-distant future—A.I. that transposes your brain activity to written text. The concept may seem far-off or dystopian, but the University of California, San Francisco, has gotten us one step further in a recent experiment. The study's researchers first enlisted four epileptic individuals with preexisting electrode brain implants for seizure-monitoring. After tethering the electrodes to brain monitors, the researchers then had each test subject read aloud a list of 50 sentences multiple times. Each sentence was simple. One, evidently inserted by an '80s R&B fanatic, read "Tina Turner is a pop singer." As the subjects read aloud, their corresponding brain activity was converted into strings of numbers by a machine-learning algorithm. The spoken audio was also fed to the algorithm, in hopes the machine could match each audio snippet with the speaker's numeric chunk of brain activity. Through trial and error, the algorithm began to pick up on patterns in the numerical data. It could then convert those sequential patterns back into language. Once acclimated, the algorithm was tasked again with monitoring the test subjects as they spoke. This time, the algorithm could translate their speech to print. With mixed results, of course.
The algorithm successfully transposed the words and brain activity of one individual with a sentence-by-sentence accuracy rate of 97 percent. In other words, just three percent of each transposed sentence needed tweaking. Others, not so much. Sentences like "Those musicians harmonise marvellously" were decoded as "The spinach was a famous singer." Still, the machine-learning algorithm used in this study shows incredible promise. Why? Because most algorithms used in previous studies required millions of hours of practice, while this one used under 40 minutes per individual. Which is to say, it's very efficient relative to similar learning algorithms. It's great news. The benefits are profound for mute individuals or those stricken with locked-in syndrome, in which someone is fully aware but stuck in a non-communicative paralysis. The ability to speak purely through brain activity would allow these individuals to not only live robust social lives, but also have their voices heard during medical emergencies. There's another plus for those of us unnerved by the rapid (and often unrestrained) progress of technology—it's highly unlikely this kind of tech could be used to read our minds any time soon. That being said, the researchers of the experiment believe it's time we start discussing philosophical, legal, and ethical parameters for such a possibility. Sorry, couch potatoes. You still have to yell at virtual assistants or—and I know, it's so much work—press your thumb down on a remote.
Image credit & copyright: Andrew Ostrovsky/Getty Images
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FREERelationships Daily Curio #2010Free1 CQ
These little guys know how to party. Shown above are Indian Parrots, possibly the Drug Enforcement Agency's strongest ally. They're fighting fire with fire—or maybe drugs with drugs. Since 2015, India's opium poppy farmers have been increasingly complaining about "addicted" birds ravaging their crops. They're referring to the local parrots, who get their fix by feeding on the poppies upwards of 40 times a day. The opium poppy usually germinates this time of year. It's known taxonomically as Papaver somniferum, and each poppy produces 20-25 grams (little under an ounce) of opium. The plant oozes the opium in the form of a milky fluid, which is scraped for alkaloids like morphine or codeine. It produces a relaxing, euphoric effect in humans and is highly addictive. The parrots, also easily hooked, experience the opposite effect upon ingestion. To these avians, eating opium results in a hyperactive, caffeine-like reaction. Just take a look at the addled fiends above, huddled atop an opium-caked cement wall as if it were a table at a dance club. When the birds' highs wear off, they fly haphazardly or slump in fields. In India's Malwa-Mewar belt, the site of roughly 75 percent of the country's legal opium trade, farmers are fighting back with "sonic warfare." This mostly entails blaring speakers and shooting fireworks at the birds. As great as this parrot plague sounds for the worldwide drug epidemic, most of these farms actually have licenses and supply medicinal manufacturing companies. The parrots almost certainly ravage illicit opium fields, but also the stuff India uses to treat patients. One could even say the parrots are doing too good of a job keeping opium off the streets. Which gives me and idea. Seeing as Britain has its own burgeoning parrot infestation, I wonder if the U.K. should just deputize the birds and sic them on drug dealers. Polly wanna fix?
Image credit & copyright: Best Way Parakeet Cultivation
These little guys know how to party. Shown above are Indian Parrots, possibly the Drug Enforcement Agency's strongest ally. They're fighting fire with fire—or maybe drugs with drugs. Since 2015, India's opium poppy farmers have been increasingly complaining about "addicted" birds ravaging their crops. They're referring to the local parrots, who get their fix by feeding on the poppies upwards of 40 times a day. The opium poppy usually germinates this time of year. It's known taxonomically as Papaver somniferum, and each poppy produces 20-25 grams (little under an ounce) of opium. The plant oozes the opium in the form of a milky fluid, which is scraped for alkaloids like morphine or codeine. It produces a relaxing, euphoric effect in humans and is highly addictive. The parrots, also easily hooked, experience the opposite effect upon ingestion. To these avians, eating opium results in a hyperactive, caffeine-like reaction. Just take a look at the addled fiends above, huddled atop an opium-caked cement wall as if it were a table at a dance club. When the birds' highs wear off, they fly haphazardly or slump in fields. In India's Malwa-Mewar belt, the site of roughly 75 percent of the country's legal opium trade, farmers are fighting back with "sonic warfare." This mostly entails blaring speakers and shooting fireworks at the birds. As great as this parrot plague sounds for the worldwide drug epidemic, most of these farms actually have licenses and supply medicinal manufacturing companies. The parrots almost certainly ravage illicit opium fields, but also the stuff India uses to treat patients. One could even say the parrots are doing too good of a job keeping opium off the streets. Which gives me and idea. Seeing as Britain has its own burgeoning parrot infestation, I wonder if the U.K. should just deputize the birds and sic them on drug dealers. Polly wanna fix?
Image credit & copyright: Best Way Parakeet Cultivation
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FREEHumanities Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Why exactly does popcorn cost so much at movie theaters? It's all thanks to a May 1948 U.S. Supreme Court decision, U.S. vs. Paramount Pictures et al, which ruled movie theaters and movie studios are not allowed to be owned by the same company. Before that time, most major movie studios also controlled chains of theaters, either through direct ownership or something called block booking. That was the practice of major studios requiring independent theaters to book an entire "block" of films together, essentially boxing out other studios and giving them control of when, where, and for how much their movies were shown. The Supreme Court first ruled against the studios' monopolistic practices in 1930, but because of the Great Depression, its ruling was never enforced. So the Justice Department tried again in 1946, siding with a group of independent movie producers which included Charlie Chaplin, Samuel Goldwyn, Walt Disney, and Orson Welles. Eventually, the case reached the higher court, which ordered that bidding for movies had to be competitive and individually licensed. Price fixing of admission, joint ownership of movie studios and theaters, and block booking were all ruled illegal. But as a result, theaters now have to bid for each movie separately, and end up making almost no money for the first few weeks of each release while the studios recoup their investment. On average, a theater keeps less than 25% of its total ticket sales, sending the rest to the studios. Which means movie theaters are now in the popcorn business. Over 90% of their profits come from concessions, and they are still barely getting by. Some economists predict they will all be gone in ten years. So the next time you drop $40 on a bottomless tub of corn, some Red Vines, and two XL sodas, think of it as a charitable contribution!
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Why exactly does popcorn cost so much at movie theaters? It's all thanks to a May 1948 U.S. Supreme Court decision, U.S. vs. Paramount Pictures et al, which ruled movie theaters and movie studios are not allowed to be owned by the same company. Before that time, most major movie studios also controlled chains of theaters, either through direct ownership or something called block booking. That was the practice of major studios requiring independent theaters to book an entire "block" of films together, essentially boxing out other studios and giving them control of when, where, and for how much their movies were shown. The Supreme Court first ruled against the studios' monopolistic practices in 1930, but because of the Great Depression, its ruling was never enforced. So the Justice Department tried again in 1946, siding with a group of independent movie producers which included Charlie Chaplin, Samuel Goldwyn, Walt Disney, and Orson Welles. Eventually, the case reached the higher court, which ordered that bidding for movies had to be competitive and individually licensed. Price fixing of admission, joint ownership of movie studios and theaters, and block booking were all ruled illegal. But as a result, theaters now have to bid for each movie separately, and end up making almost no money for the first few weeks of each release while the studios recoup their investment. On average, a theater keeps less than 25% of its total ticket sales, sending the rest to the studios. Which means movie theaters are now in the popcorn business. Over 90% of their profits come from concessions, and they are still barely getting by. Some economists predict they will all be gone in ten years. So the next time you drop $40 on a bottomless tub of corn, some Red Vines, and two XL sodas, think of it as a charitable contribution!
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FREEBiology Daily Curio #2009Free1 CQ
Here we have another case of animals accomplishing what lies in our wildest dreams. This time, it's the longfin inshore squid and its ability to edit its own genetic code as it pleases. According to a recent study by the Marine Biological Laboratory, this 16-inch mollusk does this by altering ribonucleic acid (RNA) within its axons. As a refresher, RNA is a molecule that functions as a messenger for deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA—another molecule which holds information crucial to the development of our bodies and reproduction. Axons, meanwhile, are bridge-like threads which tether cells together and transmit electrical impulses between them. The squids' ability to manipulate their RNA within their axons is a far safer method than those that alter RNA within the cell's nucleus. Another plus is that if the squid's body makes a mistake during its gene editing, the RNA simply abandons the order. Meanwhile, current human methods like CRISPR require puncturing not only the cell membrane, but the membrane of the cell's nucleus. They also carry the risk of harmful mutations. Conceptual therapies mimicking the squids' technique would likely allow scientists to alter genetics by only going into a cell's cytoplasm: the material encompassing the cell's nucleus. This new finding is quite a revelation. There's still no word on why exactly these squids tweak their genes. The reigning theory is that they do it to quickly adapt to changing environments. Gene editing, camouflage, self-operating tentacles, and stereopsis? Squids and their octopi cousins are some of the strangest creatures on Earth. From here on out, I think I'll be refraining from squid sushi!
Image credit & copyright: Roger Hanlon/The Marine Biological Laboratory
Here we have another case of animals accomplishing what lies in our wildest dreams. This time, it's the longfin inshore squid and its ability to edit its own genetic code as it pleases. According to a recent study by the Marine Biological Laboratory, this 16-inch mollusk does this by altering ribonucleic acid (RNA) within its axons. As a refresher, RNA is a molecule that functions as a messenger for deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA—another molecule which holds information crucial to the development of our bodies and reproduction. Axons, meanwhile, are bridge-like threads which tether cells together and transmit electrical impulses between them. The squids' ability to manipulate their RNA within their axons is a far safer method than those that alter RNA within the cell's nucleus. Another plus is that if the squid's body makes a mistake during its gene editing, the RNA simply abandons the order. Meanwhile, current human methods like CRISPR require puncturing not only the cell membrane, but the membrane of the cell's nucleus. They also carry the risk of harmful mutations. Conceptual therapies mimicking the squids' technique would likely allow scientists to alter genetics by only going into a cell's cytoplasm: the material encompassing the cell's nucleus. This new finding is quite a revelation. There's still no word on why exactly these squids tweak their genes. The reigning theory is that they do it to quickly adapt to changing environments. Gene editing, camouflage, self-operating tentacles, and stereopsis? Squids and their octopi cousins are some of the strangest creatures on Earth. From here on out, I think I'll be refraining from squid sushi!
Image credit & copyright: Roger Hanlon/The Marine Biological Laboratory
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FREEMind + Body Daily Curio #2008Free1 CQ
Women live longer than men, it's no secret. So it should come as no surprise that females from other mammal species also outlive their male counterparts—by a lifespan differential of 18.6 percent, on average. That's the conclusion from a recent study authored by Dr. Jean-Francois Lemaître of the University of Lyon, in France. Lemaître and his colleagues zeroed in on that percentage by amassing data on 101 species, such as gorillas and orcas, across 134 populations. Of the species they studied, roughly 60 percent had females generally outliving males. The researchers expected this kind of statistic. What they didn't expect was the overarching 18.6 percent lifespan differential in favor of females. This is because the lifespan difference in humanity is just 8 percent in favor of women, with nine out of 10 people who live to 110 years old being of the fairer sex. But there's even worse news for males. According to the study, the longer each species is analyzed, the larger its lifespan gap reveals itself to be—many up to 20 percent in favor of females. What's the cause of males' shorter lifespans? If you answered conventional male competition and risk-taking, you might be partially correct. Generally, males devote more resources to sexual competition than females. But the mortality rate among males doesn't necessarily increase or decrease as they age, but stays constant. Which means there's likely another piece to the puzzle: genetics. Many researchers believe the two X chromosomes women carry better protect them from detrimental mutations than the XY pairing men possess. Still, this leaves a lot of questions regarding the species in which males actually outlive females, if only by thin margins. They include horses and certain types of bats and rabbits. Hmm… forget those faddish magazines. From now on, I think I'll consult the jackrabbits in my backyard for health advice.
Image credit & copyright: Brian Stansberry
Women live longer than men, it's no secret. So it should come as no surprise that females from other mammal species also outlive their male counterparts—by a lifespan differential of 18.6 percent, on average. That's the conclusion from a recent study authored by Dr. Jean-Francois Lemaître of the University of Lyon, in France. Lemaître and his colleagues zeroed in on that percentage by amassing data on 101 species, such as gorillas and orcas, across 134 populations. Of the species they studied, roughly 60 percent had females generally outliving males. The researchers expected this kind of statistic. What they didn't expect was the overarching 18.6 percent lifespan differential in favor of females. This is because the lifespan difference in humanity is just 8 percent in favor of women, with nine out of 10 people who live to 110 years old being of the fairer sex. But there's even worse news for males. According to the study, the longer each species is analyzed, the larger its lifespan gap reveals itself to be—many up to 20 percent in favor of females. What's the cause of males' shorter lifespans? If you answered conventional male competition and risk-taking, you might be partially correct. Generally, males devote more resources to sexual competition than females. But the mortality rate among males doesn't necessarily increase or decrease as they age, but stays constant. Which means there's likely another piece to the puzzle: genetics. Many researchers believe the two X chromosomes women carry better protect them from detrimental mutations than the XY pairing men possess. Still, this leaves a lot of questions regarding the species in which males actually outlive females, if only by thin margins. They include horses and certain types of bats and rabbits. Hmm… forget those faddish magazines. From now on, I think I'll consult the jackrabbits in my backyard for health advice.
Image credit & copyright: Brian Stansberry
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FREEHumanities Daily Curio #2007Free1 CQ
On today's date in 1603, Japanese warrior and statesman Tokugawa Ieyasu was declared shogun. It was the start of the Tokugawa shogunate, which lasted from 1603–1867, until Japan modernized. Tokugawa was sort of a sneaky fellow, compared to his contemporaries. He was born during an era of strife and civil war in Japan called the "Warring States" period. At the time, feudal landowners called daimyo (meaning "great names") were causing trouble in the countryside, siccing their samurai on each other and commoners. The daimyo and their samurai had long been reined in by shoguns, or hereditary warlords. But for decades, the previous Ashikaga shogunate had failed to control the daimyo. Then along came the "Three Unifiers" of Japan: Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu. There's an old saying about these three allies. "Nobunaga gathered the ingredients, Hideyoshi baked them into a rice cake, and Tokugawa sat down and ate it." In other words, Nobunaga waged merciless war across Japan but died before he achieved victory. Hideyoshi, as Nobunaga's successor, finished the job by unifying Japan and instigating reform efforts. Notably, he banned farmers from carrying weapons, and in turn forced the samurai to quit pillaging. However, he died with only a five-year-old heir.
Enter Tokugawa, who "sat down and ate the rice cake." A long-time ally to Nobunaga and Hideyoshi in their previous conquests, Tokugawa quickly moved in on the title of shogun after Hideyoshi's death. His forces clashed with an army loyal to the late Hideyori in 1600. Tokugawa emerged the undisputed master of Japan. He celebrated by building formidable castles and rooting out each of his remaining rivals. Say what you will about Tokugawa, but his policies resulted in an unprecedented three centuries of peace, stability, and isolationism. The harbinger of the Tokugawa shogunate's demise came in the form of American Commodore Matthew Perry, who sailed some ships into Tokyo's harbor in 1853. Leveling his guns at Tokyo, Perry used "gunboat diplomacy" to force Japan to open to foreign trade in 1853. The Tokugawa shogunate, faced with Western industrialization and modernization, fell shortly after. Which saw the beginning of the much darker imperial period in Japan's history. Tokugawa may have been a political vulture, but hey—250 years of peace is 250 years of peace. That's a longer span of time than the entire history of the free United States!
On today's date in 1603, Japanese warrior and statesman Tokugawa Ieyasu was declared shogun. It was the start of the Tokugawa shogunate, which lasted from 1603–1867, until Japan modernized. Tokugawa was sort of a sneaky fellow, compared to his contemporaries. He was born during an era of strife and civil war in Japan called the "Warring States" period. At the time, feudal landowners called daimyo (meaning "great names") were causing trouble in the countryside, siccing their samurai on each other and commoners. The daimyo and their samurai had long been reined in by shoguns, or hereditary warlords. But for decades, the previous Ashikaga shogunate had failed to control the daimyo. Then along came the "Three Unifiers" of Japan: Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu. There's an old saying about these three allies. "Nobunaga gathered the ingredients, Hideyoshi baked them into a rice cake, and Tokugawa sat down and ate it." In other words, Nobunaga waged merciless war across Japan but died before he achieved victory. Hideyoshi, as Nobunaga's successor, finished the job by unifying Japan and instigating reform efforts. Notably, he banned farmers from carrying weapons, and in turn forced the samurai to quit pillaging. However, he died with only a five-year-old heir.
Enter Tokugawa, who "sat down and ate the rice cake." A long-time ally to Nobunaga and Hideyoshi in their previous conquests, Tokugawa quickly moved in on the title of shogun after Hideyoshi's death. His forces clashed with an army loyal to the late Hideyori in 1600. Tokugawa emerged the undisputed master of Japan. He celebrated by building formidable castles and rooting out each of his remaining rivals. Say what you will about Tokugawa, but his policies resulted in an unprecedented three centuries of peace, stability, and isolationism. The harbinger of the Tokugawa shogunate's demise came in the form of American Commodore Matthew Perry, who sailed some ships into Tokyo's harbor in 1853. Leveling his guns at Tokyo, Perry used "gunboat diplomacy" to force Japan to open to foreign trade in 1853. The Tokugawa shogunate, faced with Western industrialization and modernization, fell shortly after. Which saw the beginning of the much darker imperial period in Japan's history. Tokugawa may have been a political vulture, but hey—250 years of peace is 250 years of peace. That's a longer span of time than the entire history of the free United States!
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FREEAesthetic Daily Curio #2006Free1 CQ
I know, I know—spring just started and we're stuck quarantining. So, to cheer us up, we're looking back at last winter: namely the finalists of the Takhini Hot Springs "Hair Freezing Contest." Located in Canada's subarctic Yukon Territory (which neighbors Alaska), Takhini Hot Springs is a tourist attraction that thrives during the warmer months. It's privately operated and known for the rejuvenating power of its clean, mineral-rich waters. That being said, it gets poor business in the winter months, when the temperature in Yukon can plummet to minus eight degrees Fahrenheit overnight. The Hair Freezing Contest was started in 2011, to boost business during the stark cold. It hasn't garnered much more winter clientele, but it has evolved into a sort of cultural observance. Locals looking to escape the possibility of cabin fever gather at Takhini Hot Springs for some friendly, creative competition. Participants submerge their doos in the warm water, and emerge to quickly style their hair into gravity-defying sculptures. Creativity, white frost, and levitating locks are what the judges look for. One contestant, Nanae Takano, won "Most Creative" in 2017 after using chopsticks to shore up the "wings" of a bird-shaped hairstyle with a 40-inch wingspan. It took her 30 attempts to mold. Increasingly ambitious showings like Takano's are becoming the norm at the competition. Since its inaugural year, the event has grown from a handful of locals, to some 300—many from overseas. The grand prize, too, has swelled from $100 to a package which includes a 12-punch hot spring pass and roughly $1400. Voting for the event closed just yesterday, but you'll be able to know the grand-prize winner on April 1st. Personally, you won't find me in the Yukon during frigid winters (or with a beard and tresses, for that matter). Regardless, this competition is an ingenious way to pass the isolated winter months. I wonder if I can't think up a similar contest for the family while we're in quarantine… hmm, what do we have in the kitchen? "Hair Maple Syruping Contest," maybe? Any takers? No?
Below: Nanae Takano, the winner of the "Most Creative" category in 2017, as well as two finalists for 2020.
Image credit & copyright: Takhini Hot Pools
I know, I know—spring just started and we're stuck quarantining. So, to cheer us up, we're looking back at last winter: namely the finalists of the Takhini Hot Springs "Hair Freezing Contest." Located in Canada's subarctic Yukon Territory (which neighbors Alaska), Takhini Hot Springs is a tourist attraction that thrives during the warmer months. It's privately operated and known for the rejuvenating power of its clean, mineral-rich waters. That being said, it gets poor business in the winter months, when the temperature in Yukon can plummet to minus eight degrees Fahrenheit overnight. The Hair Freezing Contest was started in 2011, to boost business during the stark cold. It hasn't garnered much more winter clientele, but it has evolved into a sort of cultural observance. Locals looking to escape the possibility of cabin fever gather at Takhini Hot Springs for some friendly, creative competition. Participants submerge their doos in the warm water, and emerge to quickly style their hair into gravity-defying sculptures. Creativity, white frost, and levitating locks are what the judges look for. One contestant, Nanae Takano, won "Most Creative" in 2017 after using chopsticks to shore up the "wings" of a bird-shaped hairstyle with a 40-inch wingspan. It took her 30 attempts to mold. Increasingly ambitious showings like Takano's are becoming the norm at the competition. Since its inaugural year, the event has grown from a handful of locals, to some 300—many from overseas. The grand prize, too, has swelled from $100 to a package which includes a 12-punch hot spring pass and roughly $1400. Voting for the event closed just yesterday, but you'll be able to know the grand-prize winner on April 1st. Personally, you won't find me in the Yukon during frigid winters (or with a beard and tresses, for that matter). Regardless, this competition is an ingenious way to pass the isolated winter months. I wonder if I can't think up a similar contest for the family while we're in quarantine… hmm, what do we have in the kitchen? "Hair Maple Syruping Contest," maybe? Any takers? No?
Below: Nanae Takano, the winner of the "Most Creative" category in 2017, as well as two finalists for 2020.
Image credit & copyright: Takhini Hot Pools
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FREEHumanities Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
If I told you over one million people had committed to sacking Area 51 in hopes of finding aliens, would you believe me? It sounds too foolish to be true, but a recent tongue-in-cheek Facebook event called Storm Area 51 has managed to mobilize a volunteer army of alien hunters to do just that. Originally a prank started by anonymous user "Val," Storm Area 51 describes how it will use strength in numbers to overcome the military base's defenses, to "see them aliens." The charge will allegedly take place before dawn on September 20, with a horde of alien hunters "naruto running" to "move faster than [the U.S. Air Force's] bullets." For those of us over 40, "naruto" refers to a popular Japanese anime character. All fun and games, right? Well, one million Facebook users have posted that they're "Going" to Storm Area 51 while another million are "Interested." Hotels, RV lots, and campgrounds in the local Nevada desert area are being flooded with reservations and tourists set on observing (and possibly participating in) the spectacle. The sheer number of responders has alerted the U.S. Air Force, which has authorized guards to "use deadly force" should the storming take place. To be clear, the top-secret complex is arrayed with motion sensors and high tech cameras, so good luck would-be raiders. The ordeal also has the event's creator and comedic agitators worried that they may be held accountable, should any numbskulls get seriously hurt attempting the feat. All in all, Storm Area 51 is a testament to the growing power of internet personalities, in this case jokesters called "meme lords." Really, all this stupidity has me yearning for better days—when people still listened to common sense!
Image credit & copyright: Laura Rauch /AP
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
If I told you over one million people had committed to sacking Area 51 in hopes of finding aliens, would you believe me? It sounds too foolish to be true, but a recent tongue-in-cheek Facebook event called Storm Area 51 has managed to mobilize a volunteer army of alien hunters to do just that. Originally a prank started by anonymous user "Val," Storm Area 51 describes how it will use strength in numbers to overcome the military base's defenses, to "see them aliens." The charge will allegedly take place before dawn on September 20, with a horde of alien hunters "naruto running" to "move faster than [the U.S. Air Force's] bullets." For those of us over 40, "naruto" refers to a popular Japanese anime character. All fun and games, right? Well, one million Facebook users have posted that they're "Going" to Storm Area 51 while another million are "Interested." Hotels, RV lots, and campgrounds in the local Nevada desert area are being flooded with reservations and tourists set on observing (and possibly participating in) the spectacle. The sheer number of responders has alerted the U.S. Air Force, which has authorized guards to "use deadly force" should the storming take place. To be clear, the top-secret complex is arrayed with motion sensors and high tech cameras, so good luck would-be raiders. The ordeal also has the event's creator and comedic agitators worried that they may be held accountable, should any numbskulls get seriously hurt attempting the feat. All in all, Storm Area 51 is a testament to the growing power of internet personalities, in this case jokesters called "meme lords." Really, all this stupidity has me yearning for better days—when people still listened to common sense!
Image credit & copyright: Laura Rauch /AP
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FREEBiology Daily Curio #2005Free1 CQ
Yesterday, we talked about how days have lengthened since the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event 66 million years ago. Today, we're learning about one of the apocalypse's unassuming survivors: the "wonderchicken." Only recently discovered, this extinct species is the oldest-known anatomically modern bird. This means its appearance was similar to modern-day chickens, turkeys, and waterfowl, particularly in terms of skull shape. It also featured a modern-looking beak without teeth, unlike those of pre-modern birds, such as Archaeopteryx, which had denticulation. It resembled a chicken mixed with a duck, leading researchers to playfully refer to it as a "turducken." Given its appearance and period of existence, scientists think the wonderchicken could be as close as we'll ever get to the common ancestor of our current 11,000 bird species. Scientists only recently discovered the first wonderchicken skull in Belgium using CT scanning on fossilized bones. The species has been taxonomically named Asteriornis maastrichtensis, a nod to Asteria, the Greek goddess of falling stars. This is because the wonderchicken was one of the few species lucky enough to survive the asteroid-induced Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction, which eradicated three-quarters of the planet's plant and animal life forms. How did the wonderchicken pull it off? Just short of a foot in length and weighing only 14 ounces, the wonderchicken didn't need much sustenance during the mass food shortages of the crisis. Its beak also indicates it ate a flexible, generalized diet. Additionally, its duck-like features signify that it lived on coastlines instead of trees. This means it escaped the massive wildfires spurred by the asteroid impact, unlike other birds of the time. See now why scientists are calling it the wonderchicken? I bet whenever humanity finally runs a-fowl, similar chickens will keep going strong (sans the coops)!
Image credit & copyright: Phillip Krzeminski/Handout via REUTERS
Yesterday, we talked about how days have lengthened since the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event 66 million years ago. Today, we're learning about one of the apocalypse's unassuming survivors: the "wonderchicken." Only recently discovered, this extinct species is the oldest-known anatomically modern bird. This means its appearance was similar to modern-day chickens, turkeys, and waterfowl, particularly in terms of skull shape. It also featured a modern-looking beak without teeth, unlike those of pre-modern birds, such as Archaeopteryx, which had denticulation. It resembled a chicken mixed with a duck, leading researchers to playfully refer to it as a "turducken." Given its appearance and period of existence, scientists think the wonderchicken could be as close as we'll ever get to the common ancestor of our current 11,000 bird species. Scientists only recently discovered the first wonderchicken skull in Belgium using CT scanning on fossilized bones. The species has been taxonomically named Asteriornis maastrichtensis, a nod to Asteria, the Greek goddess of falling stars. This is because the wonderchicken was one of the few species lucky enough to survive the asteroid-induced Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction, which eradicated three-quarters of the planet's plant and animal life forms. How did the wonderchicken pull it off? Just short of a foot in length and weighing only 14 ounces, the wonderchicken didn't need much sustenance during the mass food shortages of the crisis. Its beak also indicates it ate a flexible, generalized diet. Additionally, its duck-like features signify that it lived on coastlines instead of trees. This means it escaped the massive wildfires spurred by the asteroid impact, unlike other birds of the time. See now why scientists are calling it the wonderchicken? I bet whenever humanity finally runs a-fowl, similar chickens will keep going strong (sans the coops)!
Image credit & copyright: Phillip Krzeminski/Handout via REUTERS
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FREESTEM Daily Curio #2004Free1 CQ
Not enough hours in the day? Be thankful you weren't a dinosaur. A recent study by Vrije Universiteit Brussel just proved days have been getting longer and longer since at least the Cretaceous Period. In case you forgot your elementary science lessons, the Cretaceous Period lasted from about 145 million years ago to 66 million years ago. It ended with the asteroid-induced mass extinction that put the kibosh to the Mesozoic Era and launched the current Cenozoic Era. The researchers at Vrije Universiteit Brussel made their discovery after boring microscopic holes into a rudist clam fossil using lasers, to collect minuscule samples. Looking back 70 million years, scientists were able to track variations in the clam's shell growth which correlate to seasonal variations. They discovered that during the clam's life, Earth days were 23.5 hours long and Earth years 372 days long. But don't be fooled by the extra days; the length of years has remained the same, due to Earth's fixed orbit around the Sun. The missing hours coupled with the extra days amounted to a year equal in length to our era's. The shift in daylength likely wasn't caused by the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event's massive asteroid collision, though. Rather, gravitational friction from the moon is gradually slowing the Earth's rotation. Meanwhile, the Earth's tides are accelerating the moon and currently causing it to move 1.5 inches away from Earth annually. However, don't fret about how this will affect your life because it won't—these changes are taking place incredibly slowly. Which unfortunately means you'll have to wait millions of years to experience longer Earth days. Wow, is it getting dark already? Yawn.
Image credit & copyright: iStock
Not enough hours in the day? Be thankful you weren't a dinosaur. A recent study by Vrije Universiteit Brussel just proved days have been getting longer and longer since at least the Cretaceous Period. In case you forgot your elementary science lessons, the Cretaceous Period lasted from about 145 million years ago to 66 million years ago. It ended with the asteroid-induced mass extinction that put the kibosh to the Mesozoic Era and launched the current Cenozoic Era. The researchers at Vrije Universiteit Brussel made their discovery after boring microscopic holes into a rudist clam fossil using lasers, to collect minuscule samples. Looking back 70 million years, scientists were able to track variations in the clam's shell growth which correlate to seasonal variations. They discovered that during the clam's life, Earth days were 23.5 hours long and Earth years 372 days long. But don't be fooled by the extra days; the length of years has remained the same, due to Earth's fixed orbit around the Sun. The missing hours coupled with the extra days amounted to a year equal in length to our era's. The shift in daylength likely wasn't caused by the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event's massive asteroid collision, though. Rather, gravitational friction from the moon is gradually slowing the Earth's rotation. Meanwhile, the Earth's tides are accelerating the moon and currently causing it to move 1.5 inches away from Earth annually. However, don't fret about how this will affect your life because it won't—these changes are taking place incredibly slowly. Which unfortunately means you'll have to wait millions of years to experience longer Earth days. Wow, is it getting dark already? Yawn.
Image credit & copyright: iStock
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FREEWorld History Daily Curio #2003Free1 CQ
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Before you don your best green outfit, pause for a moment to consider if you should wear blue—St. Patrick's blue, to be precise. Believe it or not, St. Patrick was not only born in England but wore sky blue. Some time in the fifth century C.E., he was kidnapped by Irish pirates from Roman Britain as a slave. He managed their sheep for a while, then escaped back to England and later returned to Christianize Ireland. Shortly after, the Emerald Isle came to revere him. Though surviving depictions of St. Patrick don't reach back that far, the earliest known images of him, from the 13th century, show him in blue. It's likely because the sovereignty of Ireland, referred to as Flaitheas Éireann, has long been embodied by a woman in a similar blue. The national color of Ireland was essentially blue for centuries, until King Henry VIII of England took over (who we know for his many wives and the Anglican Church). He gave Ireland a new blue flag with a golden harp on it. Naturally, from the 18th-20th century, the shade of blue became more and more associated with the tyranny of English rule, rather than its origins. Kelly green and St. Patrick's shamrock became Ireland's symbols of identity and sovereignty, particularly during the 1798 Irish Rebellion. So maybe spare your friends in blue the pain and only give them half-pinches this St. Patrick's Day... assuming you're brave enough to breach the "social distancing" spurred on by COVID-19.
Image credit & copyright: Robin English/Demotix/Corbis
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Before you don your best green outfit, pause for a moment to consider if you should wear blue—St. Patrick's blue, to be precise. Believe it or not, St. Patrick was not only born in England but wore sky blue. Some time in the fifth century C.E., he was kidnapped by Irish pirates from Roman Britain as a slave. He managed their sheep for a while, then escaped back to England and later returned to Christianize Ireland. Shortly after, the Emerald Isle came to revere him. Though surviving depictions of St. Patrick don't reach back that far, the earliest known images of him, from the 13th century, show him in blue. It's likely because the sovereignty of Ireland, referred to as Flaitheas Éireann, has long been embodied by a woman in a similar blue. The national color of Ireland was essentially blue for centuries, until King Henry VIII of England took over (who we know for his many wives and the Anglican Church). He gave Ireland a new blue flag with a golden harp on it. Naturally, from the 18th-20th century, the shade of blue became more and more associated with the tyranny of English rule, rather than its origins. Kelly green and St. Patrick's shamrock became Ireland's symbols of identity and sovereignty, particularly during the 1798 Irish Rebellion. So maybe spare your friends in blue the pain and only give them half-pinches this St. Patrick's Day... assuming you're brave enough to breach the "social distancing" spurred on by COVID-19.
Image credit & copyright: Robin English/Demotix/Corbis
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FREEPhysics Daily Curio #2002Free1 CQ
It turns out canine noses are as good at locating heat sources as smells. In fact, a recent study conducted at Sweden's Lund University gives strong evidence that dog noses function like infrared heat sensors. The study was fairly simple. First, scientists trained three dogs to approach objects warmed to 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Then the researchers placed one of these warmed objects into a container sealed with electrical tape, aside an identical, room-temperature control box. When tasked with selecting the box with the warm object, the dogs succeeded over and over. This intrigued the team, so they placed 13 similarly-trained dogs into an fMRI scanner. The pooches' left somatosensory cortices in their brains all lit up when introduced to the heated object. Researchers are uncertain how the dogs do this, but they believe the rhinarium is partially responsible. The rhinarium is the moist, sniffly, nerve-loaded tip of a dog's nose, which has up to 300 million olfactory receptors. Considering the rhinarium's ability to overcome the experiment's physical barriers, the appendage seems to function as a thermal radiation sensor, meaning it detects infrared radiation directly from bodies or shifting photons. This differs from conduction sensors, which measure heat transfer through direct contact, and convection sensors, which pick up on heat passing through mediums. Dogs have officially joined the ranks of other heat-sensing animals, like snakes, bats, and certain beetles. It's interesting to note that the standard prey of dogs and wolves tend to have very thick coats of fur relative to their body mass. So it seems those smaller mammals have adapted to give off less heat, to slip under the rhinarium's radar. But even then, the dogs still have their smelling ability. If dogs are "man's best friend," then I think physics are dogs' best friend!
Image credit & copyright: loriklaszlo/Depositphotos
It turns out canine noses are as good at locating heat sources as smells. In fact, a recent study conducted at Sweden's Lund University gives strong evidence that dog noses function like infrared heat sensors. The study was fairly simple. First, scientists trained three dogs to approach objects warmed to 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Then the researchers placed one of these warmed objects into a container sealed with electrical tape, aside an identical, room-temperature control box. When tasked with selecting the box with the warm object, the dogs succeeded over and over. This intrigued the team, so they placed 13 similarly-trained dogs into an fMRI scanner. The pooches' left somatosensory cortices in their brains all lit up when introduced to the heated object. Researchers are uncertain how the dogs do this, but they believe the rhinarium is partially responsible. The rhinarium is the moist, sniffly, nerve-loaded tip of a dog's nose, which has up to 300 million olfactory receptors. Considering the rhinarium's ability to overcome the experiment's physical barriers, the appendage seems to function as a thermal radiation sensor, meaning it detects infrared radiation directly from bodies or shifting photons. This differs from conduction sensors, which measure heat transfer through direct contact, and convection sensors, which pick up on heat passing through mediums. Dogs have officially joined the ranks of other heat-sensing animals, like snakes, bats, and certain beetles. It's interesting to note that the standard prey of dogs and wolves tend to have very thick coats of fur relative to their body mass. So it seems those smaller mammals have adapted to give off less heat, to slip under the rhinarium's radar. But even then, the dogs still have their smelling ability. If dogs are "man's best friend," then I think physics are dogs' best friend!
Image credit & copyright: loriklaszlo/Depositphotos
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FREEHumanities Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Great girdle of Aphrodite! The origin story of Wonder Woman, the most popular and longest-lasting comic book hero after Superman and Batman, is twisted and full of contradictions. On one hand, Wonder Woman represents gender equality, female empowerment, and benevolent strength—especially in the context of the 1940s, when she was created. In one issue, she champions the cause of equal pay for female workers. Wonder Woman's inventor saw her as an embodiment of the feminist movement, a cause he championed his entire life (he was in a polyamorous relationship with the niece of Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood).
On the other hand, Wonder Woman was far from equal to her male counterparts. She cavorted through the pages wearing a tight-fitting figure skating outfit. When she joined the DC Comics' Justice Society of America, she served as its secretary. Wonder Woman spent so much time being tied up, chained down, gagged, and manacled that people reportedly wrote the author asking where to buy all the bondage items in the stories. Uggh. But she has somehow maintained her grip on popular culture—as evidenced by the recent Hollywood blockbuster Wonder Woman, and a new movie called Professor Marston and his Wonder Women. The latter is based on Jill Lepore's biography of William Marston called The Secret History of Wonder Woman, which reveals bizarre details of Marston's life. Among them, he invented the modern-day lie detector, which inspired Wonder Woman's lasso of truth. At the time, Marston claimed his creation was "psychological propaganda for the new type of woman who should rule the world." He predicted "the next 100 years will see the beginning of an American matriarchy" which is "the only hope for civilization." 80 years later we could still use more of that sentiment, if you ask me. Suffering Sappho!
Image credit: Gizmodo
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Great girdle of Aphrodite! The origin story of Wonder Woman, the most popular and longest-lasting comic book hero after Superman and Batman, is twisted and full of contradictions. On one hand, Wonder Woman represents gender equality, female empowerment, and benevolent strength—especially in the context of the 1940s, when she was created. In one issue, she champions the cause of equal pay for female workers. Wonder Woman's inventor saw her as an embodiment of the feminist movement, a cause he championed his entire life (he was in a polyamorous relationship with the niece of Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood).
On the other hand, Wonder Woman was far from equal to her male counterparts. She cavorted through the pages wearing a tight-fitting figure skating outfit. When she joined the DC Comics' Justice Society of America, she served as its secretary. Wonder Woman spent so much time being tied up, chained down, gagged, and manacled that people reportedly wrote the author asking where to buy all the bondage items in the stories. Uggh. But she has somehow maintained her grip on popular culture—as evidenced by the recent Hollywood blockbuster Wonder Woman, and a new movie called Professor Marston and his Wonder Women. The latter is based on Jill Lepore's biography of William Marston called The Secret History of Wonder Woman, which reveals bizarre details of Marston's life. Among them, he invented the modern-day lie detector, which inspired Wonder Woman's lasso of truth. At the time, Marston claimed his creation was "psychological propaganda for the new type of woman who should rule the world." He predicted "the next 100 years will see the beginning of an American matriarchy" which is "the only hope for civilization." 80 years later we could still use more of that sentiment, if you ask me. Suffering Sappho!
Image credit: Gizmodo
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FREEHumanities Daily Curio #2001Free1 CQ
On March 12, 1990, some 1,000 people gathered for the "Capitol Crawl" protest. Of them, 60 individuals cast off their crutches, wheelchairs, and other mobility aids to scale the 365 steps of the Capitol Building. Shown above is eight-year-old Jennifer Keelan of Denver, who surmounted the steps using just her knees and elbows. "I'll take all night if I have to," she swore as she rose. Not pictured is a woman to her side who had to accomplish the journey on her back. At the time of the protest, the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA) had made it through the Senate only to get bogged down in the House. For those unfamiliar with the ADA, it is a cornerstone of the modern promise that people with disabilities receive due access to jobs, public services, and transportation. It built on Section 504 of the Rehab Act of 1973, which broadened educational, work-related, and other opportunities for people with disabilities. The ADA was meant to build on the Rehab Act's aims, paint stringent demands, and result in widespread protections against discrimination. The Capitol Crawl, which "inconvenienced" politicians, may not have necessarily influenced the passage of the ADA but it symbolized the deep-seated frustrations of the disability community. Just two years prior, in 1988, the students of Gallaudet University—a school opened in 1864 for the deaf and hard of hearing—had to hold a "Deaf President Now" protest after the school hired yet another hearing president. They prevailed and I. King Jordan, the college's first-ever deaf president in over a century, was appointed. Fortunately, the ADA was signed on July 26, 1990. Still, many issues remain for the disability community—overreliance on facilities, subminimum wages, and underrepresentation in higher offices. Let's also not forget a certain president who mocked a reporter with a disability in 2015. The least we can do is shed light on the disability rights movement's history and concerns. So today, we're commemorating Jennifer Keelan, the rest of the Capitol Crawl, and all the others who have steered and progressed the movement.
Image credit & copyright: Jeff Markowitz/AP
On March 12, 1990, some 1,000 people gathered for the "Capitol Crawl" protest. Of them, 60 individuals cast off their crutches, wheelchairs, and other mobility aids to scale the 365 steps of the Capitol Building. Shown above is eight-year-old Jennifer Keelan of Denver, who surmounted the steps using just her knees and elbows. "I'll take all night if I have to," she swore as she rose. Not pictured is a woman to her side who had to accomplish the journey on her back. At the time of the protest, the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA) had made it through the Senate only to get bogged down in the House. For those unfamiliar with the ADA, it is a cornerstone of the modern promise that people with disabilities receive due access to jobs, public services, and transportation. It built on Section 504 of the Rehab Act of 1973, which broadened educational, work-related, and other opportunities for people with disabilities. The ADA was meant to build on the Rehab Act's aims, paint stringent demands, and result in widespread protections against discrimination. The Capitol Crawl, which "inconvenienced" politicians, may not have necessarily influenced the passage of the ADA but it symbolized the deep-seated frustrations of the disability community. Just two years prior, in 1988, the students of Gallaudet University—a school opened in 1864 for the deaf and hard of hearing—had to hold a "Deaf President Now" protest after the school hired yet another hearing president. They prevailed and I. King Jordan, the college's first-ever deaf president in over a century, was appointed. Fortunately, the ADA was signed on July 26, 1990. Still, many issues remain for the disability community—overreliance on facilities, subminimum wages, and underrepresentation in higher offices. Let's also not forget a certain president who mocked a reporter with a disability in 2015. The least we can do is shed light on the disability rights movement's history and concerns. So today, we're commemorating Jennifer Keelan, the rest of the Capitol Crawl, and all the others who have steered and progressed the movement.
Image credit & copyright: Jeff Markowitz/AP
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FREEMind + Body Daily Curio #2000Free1 CQ
Feeling under the weather? No? Well that doesn't necessarily mean you've got a clean bill of health. This month marks both times domestic servant Mary Mallon, aka "Typhoid Mary," was quarantined in 1907 and 1915. Mary was the first reported case of an asymptomatic patient, meaning she carried an illness (her whole life) in spite of showing no symptoms. She was born in a destitute area of Ireland in 1858 and immigrated to New York City as a young adult. There, she worked as a cook for wealthy (and unfortunate) families who fell gravely ill. Eventually, an employer got suspicious since typhoid fever was predominantly confined to poor communities. The man, a moneyed banker, hired a freelance sanitary engineer named George Soper to isolate the source of his family's illness. Soper held a microscope to everything from the local shellfish to the plumbing before he came to suspect Mary. He badgered her to give blood, feces, and urine samples, which, as you can imagine, didn't go over well. Uneducated on biology, Mary was also a fine picture of health. She assumed the worst of Soper and came at him with a carving fork. Soper and authorities chased Mary around the banker's mansion Scooby Doo-style until the hem of her dress, caught in a closed door, gave her away. She was quarantined on tiny North Brother Island, in the East River offshore from the Bronx, until her release in 1910.
Mary was freed on the condition she would never work in a kitchen again. But being a poverty-stricken immigrant, she had to quickly break her promise. In 1915, one "Mary Brown" was responsible for a typhoid fever outbreak at a maternity hospital that sickened 25 and resulted in two deaths. Dubbed "Typhoid Mary" by her coworkers, Mary was notoriously careless when it came to washing her hands. She was quarantined again for the second and final time, back on North Brother Island. Over time, medical experts deduced that Mary's delicious signature peach ice cream dessert was likely the conveyor for her illness. She spent the final 23 years of her life in isolation (hence her seething scowl in the above image). But Mary, no less the public, hardly understood why she was held captive. She was regarded by medical staff as the "kidnapped woman," and she despised being the "peep show for every body." Newspaper illustrations depicted her in an apron tossing skull-shaped eggs into a skillet. She was cited as "the most dangerous woman in America." In hindsight, it's likely Mary would have walked free if she hadn't been the first recorded asymptomatic patient, or if she'd kept her promise to eschew cooking when she was freed. Ironically, she lived to the ripe age of 69—pretty good for her time and background. You know, until this coronavirus outbreak blows over, I think I'm going to skip on the ice cream. Especially if it has peaches!
Image credit & copyright: CBS News
Feeling under the weather? No? Well that doesn't necessarily mean you've got a clean bill of health. This month marks both times domestic servant Mary Mallon, aka "Typhoid Mary," was quarantined in 1907 and 1915. Mary was the first reported case of an asymptomatic patient, meaning she carried an illness (her whole life) in spite of showing no symptoms. She was born in a destitute area of Ireland in 1858 and immigrated to New York City as a young adult. There, she worked as a cook for wealthy (and unfortunate) families who fell gravely ill. Eventually, an employer got suspicious since typhoid fever was predominantly confined to poor communities. The man, a moneyed banker, hired a freelance sanitary engineer named George Soper to isolate the source of his family's illness. Soper held a microscope to everything from the local shellfish to the plumbing before he came to suspect Mary. He badgered her to give blood, feces, and urine samples, which, as you can imagine, didn't go over well. Uneducated on biology, Mary was also a fine picture of health. She assumed the worst of Soper and came at him with a carving fork. Soper and authorities chased Mary around the banker's mansion Scooby Doo-style until the hem of her dress, caught in a closed door, gave her away. She was quarantined on tiny North Brother Island, in the East River offshore from the Bronx, until her release in 1910.
Mary was freed on the condition she would never work in a kitchen again. But being a poverty-stricken immigrant, she had to quickly break her promise. In 1915, one "Mary Brown" was responsible for a typhoid fever outbreak at a maternity hospital that sickened 25 and resulted in two deaths. Dubbed "Typhoid Mary" by her coworkers, Mary was notoriously careless when it came to washing her hands. She was quarantined again for the second and final time, back on North Brother Island. Over time, medical experts deduced that Mary's delicious signature peach ice cream dessert was likely the conveyor for her illness. She spent the final 23 years of her life in isolation (hence her seething scowl in the above image). But Mary, no less the public, hardly understood why she was held captive. She was regarded by medical staff as the "kidnapped woman," and she despised being the "peep show for every body." Newspaper illustrations depicted her in an apron tossing skull-shaped eggs into a skillet. She was cited as "the most dangerous woman in America." In hindsight, it's likely Mary would have walked free if she hadn't been the first recorded asymptomatic patient, or if she'd kept her promise to eschew cooking when she was freed. Ironically, she lived to the ripe age of 69—pretty good for her time and background. You know, until this coronavirus outbreak blows over, I think I'm going to skip on the ice cream. Especially if it has peaches!
Image credit & copyright: CBS News