mountain high, valley low

Two recent articles featured via Neatorama offer up an intriguing triangulation touching ethics, technical feasibility, the capacity for imagination as well as questioning what it means to be human through the lens of speciation. The latter points to a very interesting interview between reporters with Der Spiegel and a Harvard professor who is one of the leading thinkers in the field of synthetic biology, regarding the possibility of resurrecting the Neanderthals, whose genetic map has already been successfully sequenced and cloning this branch of the family of man would be (after all the questions are answered, and the scientist and his team invite public debate as essential) a relatively simple matter of finding a willing surrogate.
Like the Jurassic era (adapted into an early cautionary-tale) is named for a mountain range in the western alps, the sub-species Neanderthal is named after a valley (Tal) near Düsseldorf, frequented by a pastor in the 1800s, called Joachim Neumann (Neander is the Greek-form of new man) for inspiration. The characteristic limestone layer of the age was first discovered in the Jura mountains, and the fossilized skeleton of our cousins was first recognized for what it could be in Neander’s valley. Notwithstanding the harvests of genetically modified crops that have infiltrated our food supplies mostly out of business interest (we have not yet made good on the promise of drought-resistant crops for famine-struck regions but that is not a profit that companies can necessarily take to the bank), vaccines, and pedigrees of dogs and cats, it is not acceptable to create or revive sentient beings purely for the benefit and advancement of human kind—in the style of Planet of the Apes, however, Neanderthal physique was at minimum more robust than ours and may have been smarter than their lither and perhaps crueler competitors.

We already do not know how to procede with the little knowledge we already have about tinkering with DNA and are not able to treat other humans humanely, so perhaps this sort of thinking is a bit premature but it still does not remain unreachably in the realm of fantasy. Neanderthals could conceivably have a different take on intellect and help solve the problems that the surviving Homo sapiens created, make new scientific discoveries and be kinder, more empathetic leaders—maybe the ruling class we need rather than putting our trust in the hands of robotic overlords. Mingling our genetic material would create more diversity, too, and perhaps provide resistance to a host of human diseases. These last two benefits lead to the former article regarding what the Star Trek franchise has taught us about evolutionary biology.
The humans accepted the benevolent tutelage of the more experienced Vulcans before arrogantly taking on the Universe like the Wild West, and characters like Mr. Spock, Mr. Worf (Worf was raised by adoptive human parents), Counselor Troi, and B’elanna Torres were outstanding representatives of both sides of their families. One wonders if alien races could really inter-breed, and perhaps it was just a plot-device to excuse costuming and set-design due to budget-constraints (the teleporter was written into the storyline because it was cheaper than staging a ship landing every episode) but the analysis recalls an episode from the Next Generation that explains the humanoid appearance through panspermia, orchestrated by a dying primogenitor race—as well as the hybrid children, since the concept of specie is marked by the ability to cross-breed naturally. Maybe science fiction does not answer all the ethical and philosophical quandaries when it comes to experimenting with genetics, but it probably does provide a good place to start.

moving day (part the first) or needful things

The day is approaching, and although it has been on the horizon for some time I felt like there was more time always, or my new job to start that will have me migrating during the work week.

I will still get to come home on the weekends, but this arrangement is going to be intolerably strange I think in the beginning. I am, however, pleased with the little apartment we found near enough to everything to make driving unnecessary—I was never suited to driving in larger German cities in the first place and it would take some time to build up confidence and courage to not leave the car on the outskirts somewhere—which H and I started delivering some effects to recently. It came fully furnished, which is a bonus in itself—being able to avoid duplications for a temporary arrangement, and done so with a nice and personal touch.

As I spent a few hours alone in the room, however, thinking “hello, walls” my mind raced over a hundred artefacts that could it in this or that nook and corner. One can never think of everything, but it’s amazing how quickly one can build up and visualize the missing inventory, like when returning home after an extended vacation and the dimensions and relations of familiar things seem somehow exaggerated and being out-of-place is easier to spot. In any case, despite whatever was left out (that I could bring on my next trip), I had a rather large world globe from the early 1950s, a peripatetic library of books to read, and an antique butter-churn in a jar, which I consider far superior than any trifling convenience left out.

One item overlooked, probably more by my own carelessness than anything else, was the key to my postbox, which was also not labeled. Searching for the likely slot, I saw that I had a quite special fellow-occupant (Whom I hope to never meet and spoil the illusion) and that He does not have time for junk mail either. It will be a change, certainly, and although I walk already quite a bit, I could detect the difference in culture along urban streets already, like one is transported a bit more when accompanied by stately homes and enterprise, but I think everything will be OK.

war on _________

Towards the end of last summer, there was somewhat of a landmark study from a Norwegian institute into the developmental effects of marijuana smoking in adolescents, which suggested that routine usage was detrimental to cognitive abilities in later life—measured by changes in the intelligence quotient of subjects. The research was expansive, endorsed by peers and seemed to proffer a sensible outcome—that the brains of teenagers are still plastic and going through important and formative stages that make young people acutely sensitive to the effects of getting stoned.

I am sure the timing was beyond reproach, but the story made the headlines just ahead of some US states voting on decriminalizing marijuana possession, whose decisions were arrayed with a host of mock-worthy, exaggerated public service announcements (propaganda) on reefer-madness. By no means was the project without merit, but the researchers are recanting on their earlier verdict, having realized that when selecting participants to follow and evaluate one significant denominator was overlooked: they neglected to factor in background in terms of affluence and poverty. Growing up in an environment with the stresses of being impoverished and fewer opportunities for intellectual encouragement and stimulation has, patently, grave effects for cognitive skills. Readjusting to this baseline, the study seems to confirm only negligible deleterious effects in terms of intelligence, but without endorsement that getting high is the best way to spend one’s crucial years, since wealth and security suggested that one would be less likely to develop a habit in the first place. Regardless of the flaws, the research does clearly show that policy should be focused much more on the tragic hardships of poverty rather than arbitrary illicitness.

peppermint twist

PEZ, I learned, is an Austrian confection whose name is taken from the initial, middle and last letters of the German word Pfefferminz—the original flavour of these tiny candy bricks.

Emanating from a line of accomplished physicians in Vienna who turned their sights to improving the leavening process for baked goods, the candies were discovered while perfecting the chemistry of baking powder. The dispensers, now iconic and numbering among one thousand five hundred different characters, were designed to have the dimensions and feel of cigarette lighter and proffer a quick succession of mints as an alternative to smoking, which the founders considered a nasty habit. PEZ was promoted as a means to stifle the appetite, just like smoking, and a way to bait one’s acquaintances, hoping to bum a cigarette, with a surprise that was also hygienic (one didn’t need to handle the candy to offer it to another). When the idea failed to expand beyond Europe, PEZ was transformed into a commodity for young people, which has a lasting-power as collectibles and in many different incarnations for adults, too.

voyage, voyage

Wikitravel, a partner site but not truly a sister project of Wikipedia universe, is an excellent resource but is not something fully integrated. Now, however, the Wikimedia Foundation is launching its own travelogue portal, Wikivoyage.

It is still under development but looks to be a very exciting repository of adventure, exploration and impressions, fully cross-referenced and ripe for exponential expansion with encyclopedic resources to draw from. In the doldrums of work and winter, vacation is a tantalizing idea but seems too far away and not especially encroaching, on the approach right now, but that is sure to change soon.  What grand tour can you contribute?

franklin mint and in the darkness bind them

There’s a lot of talk about minting a pair of trillion dollar platinum coins, taking advantage of an economic fiction and a loophole in the language addressing what the Executive branch may or may not do in regards to with a fiat that effectively negates the statutory debt-ceiling (also an economic fiction) by having enough money in reserve to cover those outlays. At best, it may be the wedge that the US president needs to unyoke the country from financial hijacking, and at worse, it seems sort of a silly tactic that’s hard to consider fully the ramifications of and just more delays, but I don’t necessarily believe it’s the black-magic option (as opposed to the nuclear-option) and something malevolent forged in the bowels of Mount Doom.

A coin in this denomination is certainly not the same as a collectors’ item but other such limited runs of commemorate coinage definitely have a more sinister side, that some in the US government are using to their constituents’ advantage. The Legislative branch culled riders that would funnel money to pet projects in the working-copy of the budget, however, there are scads of concrete and abstract causes (witness the calendar of awarenesses for all sorts of worthy things) that are all championed by special interest groups, to whom some representatives are beholden to oblige even with their earmarks taken away. One roundabout way to appease the lobbyists is through minting commemorative coins, whose sponsors are owed any profits after production costs (borne initially by the US Treasury). The public is not forced to buy these coins but doing so would be a way to support a particular campaign or lobby group more or less directly—not to mention, collectibles are usually taken out of circulation (with or without an agenda or ideology—grandma would rather do without than spend her Lawrence Eagleburger eagle dollar coins even if she just got them as change at the toll booth) and all those dollar coins (or whatever the face value) are sequestered in individual hands—with tokens and scrip, rather the heads or tails’ of ones choosing, becoming good for all debts public and private.

poultrygeist

Regularly on the weekends, there is a concessionaire operation setup in the parking lot of the local supermarket that sells roast chicken—and fixins, for take-away. I noticed that the company offers a catering service, as well, for, as suggested, weddings and what’s called a “Polterabend.”

I was not quite sure what that could be—a noisy evening, like a Poltergeist, a restless and loud spirit. What kind of haunting did this entail? I learned that, in line with the marriage bash, a Polterabend was the name for an engagement party in some parts of Germany, where guests would traditionally celebrate the announcement with a big to-do and bring with them old dishes. They’d then ritually smash the plates (and anything else made of ceramic or stoneware that would break spectacularly), making quite a racket to symbolize a new beginning for the couple. During this counterpart for both a stag-party and a hen-night (Bachelor and Bachelorette parties), other good luck customs are observed, including an obligatory serving of chicken soup. It’s pretty neat what one can learn from the back of a van.

underpass or suburban legend

Though second- and third-hand tales abounded, until recently there was no undisputed evidence of cow tunnels boring under the streets of Manhattan’s West Side. Although far less incredulous than giant crocodiles, sprung from unwanted pets flushed down toilets, lurking in sewers, urban spelunkers are beginning to map out this forgotten underground network, meant to reduce the traffic of livestock brought into 1870s Gotham disrupting human transportation.

Atlas Obscura’s intrepid team of explorers reintroduces this lost bit of infrastructure with a bit of history and discovery. Of course the detour avoiding the most crowded parts of the city was not a radically new idea, what with established gazing commons and cattle trails crossed by railroads and highways. Underpasses were dug in order to keep them doggies rolling. New York’s grid, however, seemed by all accounts a complex and unseen labyrinth. I wonder how many other cities and towns (London, Paris or Berlin, perhaps?) created similar networks (mazes of alleyways, canals or elevated catwalks) for market days and have long since forgot the original use of these passageways and re-purposed them for other uses.