Terrible

“And Granddad, what’s this medal for?”

“Well, uh, that was for the Champions League final, which we won on penalties.”

“Wow! It’s beautiful. Tell me about the game.”

The old man paused. “It was, um, a good game. Yes, a good game. Don’t you want to see any of the other medals?”

“Tell me about it, Granddad. Did you play well?”

“I told you. It was a good game.”

“But it went to penalties. So… did you score the equaliser? You did, didn’t you? You scored the equaliser in the last minute of extra time to give your team another chance?”

“Uh… it wasn’t exactly like that.”

“I know! You scored the winning penalty! You’re such a hero”

“I said… it wasn’t exactly like that!”. The old man got up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The boy started to cry. His mother comforted him. “There, there. It’s a touchy subject for him. He doesn’t like to talk about that one. Although it’s in his medals case…” She paused, looking to make sure that her father in law had actually gone, then continued in a whisper, “… he didn’t really earn that one.”

“I don’t want to see Granddad any more,” sniffed the boy.

Kidbrooke revisited

Kidbrooke is a part of London that mostly ought to be avoided. My enduring memory of the place was, returning home from Eltham on the bus one night, having to stop to save an elderly black man who was being stoned by some youths while he waited for the bus. In an extraordinary piece of cooperation, all the passengers and the bus driver himself got out and chased the youths away but as they had bikes we couldn’t apprehend any of them. And, as HB reminded me recently, the bus stop in question is only a few hundred yards away from where Stephen Lawrence had been stabbed to death.

The cancer that blighted the area, the Ferrier Estate, is now undergoing a huge transformation. And of course society is becoming more tolerant, albeit at a painfully slow pace.All this is to set the scene for this afternoon, when I returned to Kidbrooke because my daughter had been invited to a party there. There wasn’t enough time to drop her off, go home and come back, so I waited around in Kidbrooke Green Park. It was a pleasant, sunny afternoon, but there weren’t many people out, just the odd dog-owner. Eventually a group of children turned up to play an informal game of football. They honestly looked like they had been hand-picked for a diversity training photo. There were at least four different ethnicities (and three girls) in the group and they had a grand old time for about half an hour.

It’s a single anecdote, I know. But it’s heartening to believe that the ghosts of the old, ugly Kidbrooke might finally be able to be put to rest.

Dead souls

One of these days, if there’s enough demand – and I know full well there never will be – I may get round to some Dead Dadcasting. But in the meantime, I have started listening to other people’s podcasts on the way into and back home from work. Today I was listening to a Freakonomics podcast about souls. And very entertaining it was too.

They covered the story of a man who had observed that he was unable to find anyone willing to sell him their soul for $50. Even if they were avowed atheists, they wouldn’t part with it. Finally, the show was able to put him in touch with someone who was prepared to sell him their soul. I know the chemical difference between the Dead Dad just before and just after he died are pretty similar. So it’s not unreasonable to propose that this is due to some intangible essence that distinguishes the living from the dead. And because we have no idea what on earth it might be, it’s clear to see why people across the generations have presumed that this must be in God’s gift.

The podcast then discussed the Mormon practice of baptising the dead. While I can see that this might provide some comfort to those still living who feel their loved ones cannot go to heaven because they were unbaptised, it has become infamous due to some high profile “unilateral” baptisms, including Anne Frank and some Holocaust victims. I can see why members of the Church of the Latter Day Saints might want to baptise posthumously and I can also see why other people get upset about it. But it could afford me with a simple way to make the Church of the Dead Dad the largest church in the history of mankind…

And the title of this post? I started studying Gogol’s book after I did Russian O-level. But I never got very far. If you did, well done.

Cardinal O’Brien revisited

You will remember our friend, Cardinal Keith O’Brien. He hit the news earlier this year for his comments on gay marriage, which were strongly condemned by gay rights activists and others on Twitter. Well, he’s back, with a different message this time:

Scotland’s most senior Roman Catholic, Cardinal Keith O’Brien, has accused the prime minister of acting immorally by favouring the rich ahead of ordinary citizens affected by the recession.

The cardinal also denounced David Cameron’s opposition to a “Robin Hood tax” on financial institutions.

And he urged Mr Cameron not just to help “your very rich colleagues”.

These views have received a rather less hostile response than his previous comments. But this leaves me glum. You will know that I believe that we should listen carefully to what people say, so that we can understand their true meaning. And he’s entitled to his views. But I really can’t understand why the Twitterati expect us to listen to and respect the views of someone who only a month ago they were describing as an “idiot”.

There are two further problems:

  1. To the extent that we should ever be expected to listen to those in authority just because they are in authority, that can only extend to those subjects that they are authoritative about. I would suggest that Cardinal O’Brien, ex ante, should be considered authoritative about marriage, which has been important to the church for many centuries, but not about the economic impact of a financial transactions tax. That’s not to say he doesn’t have a contribution to make, but it does mean that we should take account off the fact that the Cardinal, on the subject of taxation, is playing away.
  2. One must wonder whether this is part of a revenge attack on the government, to punish them for their views on gay marriage. Perhaps Cardinal O’Brien wishes to apply pressure on the government in the hope that this might lead to concessions on the gay marriage issue. If that is the case, and it’s certainly plausible, then it would be pretty daft for those who criticised Cardinal O’Brien so heavily over gay marriage to support him now.

Going underground

Today, we held a service for the Dead Dad at the church in the village where He lived for over 40 years. He was cremated quite some time ago, but He’s had a nice green box to rest in while we waited for an appropriate moment to hold the service.

And that moment was today. We took His ashes down to the church, where Stephen the vicar was waiting for us. Mother carried Him a fair bit of the way, but he was heavy so I carried him the rest and held him during the service. Stephen had dug a little hole, just big enough for the box.

And then Stephen read the following, from Psalm 139:

1 O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.

2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

4 Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.

5 You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.

6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

7 Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

10 even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,”

12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.

13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

16 your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!

18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.

19 If only you would slay the wicked, O God! Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!

20 They speak of you with evil intent; your adversaries misuse your name.

21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD, and abhor those who rise up against you?

22 I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies.

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.

24 See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

We then said a couple of prayers, again led by Stephen.

Now, it turned out that I was the only man in our party. So Stephen asked me to put Him in the hole, which I did – box and all. And then he asked me to cover up the hole with earth. I was in a suit and ill-prepared for this sort of gardening, but I did a reasonable job. There was a worm on top. And my sister placed a pot of hyacinths on it. We’re still waiting for the stone to be engraved, so that was that.

Later that day, while we were eating sandwiches back at the house, we learned that his granddaughter is expecting her first baby. And so the circle of life continues.

Text of Psalm 139 is copyright THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.


It’s the end of the world as we know it (a Hackney SITP review)

Last night, I returned to the Hackney SITP to see Guardian journalist Alok Jha talk about his new book The Doomsday Handbook: 50 Ways to the End of the World. The book, as you might expect, sets out 50 ways that civilisation might end in gruesome and catastrophic ways. Jha has aimed to use science to illustrate each one, in order to demonstrate just how fragile our modern existence is.

At Hackney, we got only a cut-down version of the book, with 5 ways the world might end:

  • An asteroid crashes into us. Jha pointed out that Hollywood loves this storyline but that the truth is much more mundane. Earth gets hit by asteroids all the time; it’s just that most of them burn up in the upper atmosphere. However, a large asteroid of greater than 1km across would make it all the way through and cause enormous damage. As well as the impact explosion, it would throw up clouds of dust that would obscure the Sun for years. Jha stated that this remains the best explanation of what wiped out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago.
  • We all die of a deadly pandemic. Everyone remembers H1N1 and H5N1. And the film Contagion. But Jha reminded us that the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918 killed millions and millions of people. Were one of the current deadly types of flu to mutate into a novel form, we could see similar numbers of deaths, not least because of the much higher global mobility today.
  • We get sucked into a black hole. Jha suggested that a black hole could wander too close to our solar system and we would find ourselves affected by its deadly gravity. We might be thrown out of orbit altogether, which would condemn us to a freezing winter on the vast emptiness of space, or we might be sucked inside. Nobody really knows what would happen to us there. Except people think we might get stretched like spaghetti, as those parts of us that are nearer to the black hole get sucked in faster than those bits that are further away. Or something. This section was amusing because Alice excitedly pointed out that the image he had chosen was more specifically a quasar rather than a black hole (which would be simply black, right?).
  • Aliens turn up and kill us. If aliens land on Earth, we hope that they might be nice. But they could turn out to be evil, like those nasty Mars Attacks! aliens and merely want to stick probes up our butts and kill us. He referred to the Drake equation, that aims to get its arms around the likelihood of there being alien life.
  • Strangelets. He finished with strangelets, which are definitely one to place in the “File under: Weird” category. Strangelets are (gross simplification alert!!) in such a low energy state that, on coming into contact with any other matter, would convince that matter to turn into a copy of itself. Within hours, everything on Earth would become strangelets. And we’d all be dead. Jha consoled us that the number of interactions that must have taken place in the Earth’s atmosphere over the years, we would expect a strangelet to have been created, were it possible. So the fact that it hasn’t happened so far might suggest that they don’t really exist. [As a side note, strangelets really reminded me of Vonnegut's Ice-Nine in Cat's Cradle].

image

And that was that. Jha took some questions, most of which were fairly mundane – “What’s your favourite?”, “What’s the most boring?” But TruenFairview hit the nail on the head with her question: why should we worry about things we can’t control that will kill us, when shouldn’t we really be worrying about things we can control that, if left unchecked, might severely impact our way of life? Sure, it’s fun to ponder the end of the world, but ultimately there’s really not a lot we can do about it.

I was also a bit unconvinced that the 50 items in his book form a coherent set, at least based on the five he chose to present. Unless we find a clever way to refuel the Sun, we know that in a few billion years it will start to run out. At that point, it will start to expand, consuming the inner planets – including Earth – as it goes. By then, we will need to have designed an enormous rocket or to have found a way to coax Earth into a more hospitable orbit around its (now bigger) sun. That’s a good application of our best understanding of science. By contrast, aliens coming and killing us is just science porn. There’s no real scientific basis underpinning it. Strangelets also feel a little bit the same.

Given that the Skeptics movement exists, in part at least, to counter the abuse of science by charlatans and showmen, I found myself unsure that Jha wasn’t sort of doing precisely that. OK, so he does know some science and is, at least according to the judgement of last night’s gathering, “a good guy”. But this isn’t a book that’s going to teach you a lot of science. It appears to be primarily an entertainment book that will titillate and thrill you, while leaving you not really any more enlightened about science than before. And that seems a bit of a lost opportunity.

Hackney SITP meets on the last Monday of every month at the Hackney Picturehouse from 7:30pm, and is, my slightly doughy reviews notwithstanding, a very good night out. I got to say hi to Alice and to chat to the lovely God_loves_women (I’m afraid I was too chicken to introduce her to the Dead Dad).

Sally can’t dance

Sally can’t dance, because she’s dead. And neither can Diane, lest she go to Hell.

Now, this looks to be a pretty obvious fake. And, having Googled it, that seems to be the conclusion of much of the Internet as well.

However, some people seem to be of the view that, even if it is fake, there’s a church somewhere in the US that produces material like this. Are people really so detached from evidence that they’ll believe something that’s fairly obviously false, even where there’s no corroborating evidence for it?

That’s sad.

Dead horses and red meat

People are outraged that five horses have died at the Cheltenham Festival. Yet, not so long ago, people were trashing claims that eating red meat increases an individual’s chance of death.

The moment you claim that it’s daft to suggest that eating red meat increases your chance of death, you must simultaneously agree that it’s daft to suggest that racing at Cheltenham increases a racehorse’s chance of death. This isn’t to downplay the sad story of how racehorses are treated, but to demonstrate that people are incredibly comfortable holding inconsistent views.

(Of course, this is just another scope issue).

We’re all going to die!

Oh, how tweeps have been having fun today with the “news” that certain types of food will increase your chance of death. They point out that a living individual’s chance of death is 100% and therefore cannot be increased any further. The Dead Dad is unliving proof that this is the case.

But what the joyless wags are overlooking is the implied scope within the claims. When I open the fridge and proclaim “There’s no beer!” it’s understood that I refer only to the inside of my fridge and not to the world at large. Similarly, claims about rates of death need to be understood in a narrower scope than “forever”.  Otherwise the entire branch of actuarial science may as well give up.

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