Collection of Curiosities - Nuclear Edition

What better way to end the year than with a look at some of the most bizarre, crazy, and world-ending nuclear weapons that have been created in the past 60 years? Sure, there's alcohol, but I'd like to see you fit that through an Ethernet cable.

So, why not start small?


The M-28/M-29 Recoilless Rifle loaded with the M-388 Davy Crockett


Featuring a 76 pound nuclear device (including 51 pound warhead) atop a recoilless rifle, the Davy Crockett was the smallest nuclear weapon deployed by the US. In service from 1961 to 1971, the weapon was provided to a number of units in Europe during the Cold War with the goal of warding off a potential Soviet offensive. With a variable yield between 10 tons and 250 tons, the damage output for a nuclear weapon may seem relatively small, but imagine the simultaneous detonation of 10 tons of TNT and we're on our way to a deadly bazooka equivalent.

The weapon had two potential recoilless rifle mounts (a recoilless gun allows the gases from the propellant to escape out the rear of the weapon and not out the barrel with the projectile, reducing recoil). A 120mm variant called the M28 and a 150mm variant called the M29, the difference being their 1.25 and 2.5 mile range, respectively (the US military does love the letter M). The US army also looked into a variety of other warheads and weapons platforms.

At such a small yield the danger from heat and flash are minimal; even electromagnetic problems would be trivial compared to the amount of radiation output. Unfortunately even at the standardized 20 ton yield the weapon would be relatively lethal up to 400m from the blast center. That's assuming there's no wind carrying all of the fallout into the firing team in the first place. The weapon's minimum range setting was 300m, and at a 20 ton yield that's a bit of a sick joke since all of the operators would get lethal doses of radiation at that distance. The rifles' purported ranges of 1.25 and 2.5 miles are a bit misleading as well; neither rifle was especially accurate in test firings. The weapon's maximum yield also effectively negates its firing range.


There's also the chance that one slip up could lead to this.




'Atomic Annie' (11 inch gun) firing the only test-fired W9 nuclear artillery shell


As part of the US Army's love for all things nuclear in the 1950s they started research into nuclear artillery. Two decades saw the creation of numerous artillery and warhead pairs, but the W9 is the only warhead to ever be successfully test-fired from an actual artillery piece (the W33 warhead was tested twice without being fired from a gun).

Part of the US military's first foray into nuclear artillery testing, the W9 shot pictured above was from the Grable shot in the Upshot-Knothole series of nuclear tests. I have no idea who names these things, but they are probably crazy. Operation Upshot-Knothole's objective was to investigate a variety of nuclear weapon designs and begin combat operations testing for the US military, including the proofing of tactical nuclear weapons.

The explosion was a 15 kiloton yield - viewable above at 6 miles away from the artillery piece. The small white lines (which pop up in many photos of nuclear weapon tests) are for blast wave analysis and aren't part of the explosion. The US deployed some form of nuclear artillery up until the denuclearization of the armed forces in 1992... Never mind that an assortment of nuclear test ban treaties prevented the military from actually testing the viability and functionality of those weapons.


The RDS-220 'Big Ivan', also known as the Tsar Bomba


The Tsar Bomba weapon series consisted of a single 50+ megaton nuclear weapon dropped on Novaya Zemlya archipelago on October 30th, 1961. Developed within a 16 week timeframe at the behest of Nikita Khrushchev, the bomb derived from a 100 megaton design far too heavy for deployment (the 50 Mt variant that was tested required a modified Tu-95N bomber to get it into the air). Only one functioning weapon was built, with a replica housed at the Russian Nuclear Weapons Museum in Sarov (the center of Soviet nuclear weapons design, near Novgorod - called Kremlyov until 1995).

The weapon's detonation ended a two year voluntary US/USSR nuclear testing cessation, and prompted the US to redouble its nuclear development program.

Dropped from a height of 4000m the explosion reached to the ground before convection currents lifted the fireball and mushroom cloud 64km into the atmosphere. The blast leveled the sole settlement 55km away and knocked over buildings and broke windows further than 100km away. The flash was visible more than 1000km away (where high-ranking Soviet observers ...observed). At 50 Mt the Tsar bomba is easily the largest built and detonated nuclear weapon.


At the very least, woo, nuclear fireworks for New Years.

An die Freude

Often cited as a 'symphony within a symphony', Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125 "Choral" is arguably one of the greatest pieces of classical music. It's also one of only a few symphonies to have vocals. I'll refer to it as Beethoven's 9th Symphony because I am not musically inclined. The fourth movement, named after Friedrich Schiller's poem An die Freude or "to Joy", is often the most recognized portion of the entire symphony. Because the word ode exemplifies the lyrical content of the poem we usually end up with the name "Ode to Joy". The piece has some musical flourishes that I really like, but since my musical talent is limited to knowing which violin strings are which through a clever mnemonic device (G'Day, or GDAE) I can't really tell you much about the in-depth musical facets of the piece.

The European Union took its anthem from one of the more famous musical portions of Ode to Joy. The German national anthem, on the other hand, consists of the same piece it has for the last 90 years, Haydn's Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser (God save Franz the emperor) set to lyrics by Augustus Hoffmann in 1841 and picked as the anthem for the Weimar Republic in 1922 (and subsequently adopted by Western Germany). After 1945 they just took out that whole "Deutschland, Deutschland, über alles" bit that dominated the first stanza and kept the rest. This is probably for the best because the first stanza also mentions the boundaries of the Empire of Germany based on a collection of rivers that don't actually border Germany anymore.

As many are well aware, the American national anthem takes its musical foundation from a British drinking song popular during the early 1800s. It also happens to stem from the War of 1812, and not the revolutionary war. We've all heard plenty of renditions of people holding notes just a bit too long, so perhaps I could interest you in an instrumental version without singing.

Since it's Christmas time I figured I'd present (hah!) a simple analysis of the German lyrics in Ode to Joy. The primary theme of the piece is universal brotherhood (results may vary). Concert versions of the entire symphony, separated by movements can be found here. Ode to Joy is the fourth and final movement (directly linked below if you want to save a click). Don't worry, it might seem half an hour long, but five minutes of that is the applause. Plus it's cool music. I apologize in advance to all of the unfortunate cube-dwelling people who don't have speakers; I can hum along with you, but humming comes with a no-money-back guarantee.

Symphony No. 9, in D minor, Op. 125, 'Choral'-IV. Finale: Ode to Joy
Music by Ludwig van Beethoven
Lyrics by Friedrich Schiller (with additions by Beethoven)
(original German is in italics, loose translation is underneath)

Performed by the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra here.

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!
Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen,
und freudenvollere.
Freude! Freude!

Oh friends, not these notes!
Instead let us sing more pleasant
and joyful songs.
Joy! Joy!

The first few minutes of the movement recycle musical themes from the first three movements. The movement finally settles on a definitive theme just before this first lyrical interlude. The music starts getting more tense and less joyous before the first singing starts. So the baritone's all, "please stop playing somber music - let's keep it a bit more happy, eh?" (translated to Canadian for the recording linked above).


Freude, schöner Götterfunken
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!
Deine Zauber binden wieder
Was die Mode streng geteilt;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

Joy - beautiful divine spark
Daughter of Elysium -
Filled with fire we enter,
Holy one, your sanctuary.
Your magic mends again
What tradition has sternly parted;
All men become brothers,
Wherever your gentle wing descends.

The common interpretation for the lyrics, but particularly this stanza, is mostly literal. The joy and happiness provided by God elates mankind and overcomes the troubles of history and unites everyone. God imbues mankind with the capacity for joy, which is a commonality between all men. Of course, if Schiller (the lyricist) were talking about beer, this would explain a lot too (why the chorus happens to be feuertrunken or 'drunk/filled with fire' for starters). Here it would also imply Germans are a lot friendlier once they've been liquored up a bit.

A common interpretation that starts from this portion of the lyrics is that pure joy presents a divine replacement for the Christian god (which Schiller devoutly followed), although Some Christians combined God with the concept of hedonism as early as the 1700s. This derives from the addition of Götterfunken ("divine spark" or, even more heathenish, "spark of the gods") and Elysium. Elysium - as astute viewers of Gladiator or students of mythology may know - was the Roman resting place for the heroic and virtuous (an evolution of the Greek Elysion).


Wem der große Wurf gelungen,
Eines Freundes Freund zu sein;
Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,
Mische seinen Jubel ein!
Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!
Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle
Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!

Whoever has had the fortune
To be a friend's friend;
Whoever has won a fair woman,
Add in your cheer!
Yes, even he who has but a soul
To call his own in this world!
And he who is unable, let him steal away
Weeping from this band!

So apparently the only ones that don't get to join in this cheerful celebration are those without souls. Guess that means Faust is out. People with wives or friends seem to still be in though. Wem der große Wurf gelungen, eines Freundes Freund zu sein literally means "for whomever the great dice roll has succeeded, to be a friend of a friend"...Proving that Schiller loved to gamble his friends in games of chance.

There's a tendency with modern German to explain away the use of masculine nouns here as male chauvinism (where gender neutrality for nouns is even more of a pipe dream than in English). I guess his stipulation that you can join in if you have a nice wife limits it to heterosexual males and the occasional lesbian, but he sort of overrides that with "or if you've got a soul come on in." That's one of the problems with noun genders (the other problem annoys foreign speakers by forcing them to memorize genders). This is also one of the reasons why Freude is a daughter of Elysium, since die Freude is feminine.


Freude trinken alle Wesen
An den Brüsten der Natur;
Alle Guten, alle Bösen
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur.
Küße gab sie uns und Reben,
Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;
Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,
Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.

All creatures drink joy
At the teat of nature;
All good, all bad
Follow her trail of roses.
Kisses she gave us - and wine -
A friend, proved in death;
Pleasure was given to the worm,
And the cherub stands before God.

The idea is that nature is part of life and every creature experiences joy and pleasure (hence the 'pleasure was given to the worm', meaning 'even the lowly can experience pleasure'). The exception here are angels (the cherub), who don't get a choice and need to hang out with God. Maybe Schiller is the original inspiration for Dogma. Schiller's apparent love for alcohol pops up again here. It may be important to note that Reben is the plural of die Rebe - the vine (often translated as grapes or wine here).

This is where that 'Joy as a god' thing comes back too, with the deification of nature. Coincidentally, it also features the anthropomorphization of nature. There's probably something about the uniformity of death buried in there too (what with everything following the path ordained by nature and all). Or it could just be a bunch of worms having sex and angels standing in front of God for no discernible reason.


Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen
Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan,
Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,
Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen.

Jubilantly, as his suns fly
Through the heavens' glorious design,
Run, brothers, on your way,
Joyfully, like a hero on to victory.

Schiller wrote his poem during the Age of Enlightenment, so it may be important to note that die Bahn also means orbit (relating to the suns). This could be read as an absolution in all things, or that every day should be lived joyously. Or both. Unfortunately, the alcohol thread from earlier stanzas doesn't fit so well in this one.


Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt!
Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt
Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen.
Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen?
Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?
Such' ihn über'm Sternenzelt!
Über Sternen muß er wohnen.

Be embraced, you millions!
This kiss for the entire world!
Brothers - above the canopy of stars
A loving father must dwell.
Are you penitent, millions?
Do you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the canopy of stars!
He must dwell beyond the stars.

The first portion of this song has probably been translated best by Chet Powers. This stanza diminishes the 'Joy as a god' concept a bit, although we might assume that Schiller mentions 'above the stars' as a euphemism for 'being high'...but that construction didn't really exist in English or German in the 1800s.

The symphony recycles the rest of its lyrics from earlier (Beethoven apparently loved him some Götterfunken). It may be a bit heavy in the religious department, but still has a universally functional theme.

At the very least I think we can all enjoy the God full of peace and friendship from the Age of Reason over the God full of Providence and Original Sin from the time of the Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials and such. A song about embracing joy and all of mankind is a bit more touching than a song about flagellating yourself and burning all of the women in your village for having mind powers.


Proving Englightenment Age German poets and lyricists are drunks since 2008.

Don't Nuke the Fridge Just Yet

My adventures on university buses and having to listen to people talk on their cellphones present me with innumerable stories. I could, for instance, mention that: D&D nerds don't like it when they're DMing a game and their players use anime as a basis for their avatars' archetypes; that Algerian-born Americans still require a visa and an American passport at least six months old in order to visit Algeria; and that someone got a job as an exotic dancer to get money to bail her boyfriend out of jail. Another conversation, coupled with the relatively recent release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on DVD, has led me to a more subjective topic. One scene in the movie considered too far out there for suspension of disbelief and the setting of Indiana Jones for many people...


That's right, the Witch and the Wardrobe the Nuke and the Fridge. And because internet culture isn't content with the euphemisms of old (even if they're very young), "Nuke the Fridge" has partially taken up the mantle of "Jump the Shark".

Now, "Jump the Shark" is supposed to indicate that something has passed its prime, but it specifically refers to an episode of Happy Days, where Fonzie literally jumps a shark water skiing. Despite the episode airing on September 20th, 1977 the coinage of "jump the shark" didn't happen until around 1985 - and only entered normal parlance around 1998. Never mind that 1977 involved the fifth running season of Happy Days, which continued on for another 7 years. Aside from pointing out the fact that drawing parallels between "jump the shark" from Happy Days and "nuke the fridge" from Kingdom of the Crystal Skull may lead to some dubious conclusions indicative of another four or five IJ movies, I'd like to illustrate a few reasons why nuking the fridge wasn't so bad.


The Fridge, Reality, and Physics
The movie's scene is an effort to replicate the discomforting nature of the US government's Operation Cue and its preoccupation with discovering how nuclear weapons affect residential infrastructure. Like the movie, the real bomb site was a short distance away from Area 51 in the Nellis Air Force Range (a bit northwest of Las Vegas). The actual detonation site is visible via satellite (the bright circle with the 1.5 mile diameter in the middle of the map below...unless the map is centered on the wrong place - in which case the FBI will be at your building within the hour (and you're probably using Google Chrome)). The small collection of 'roads' and 'structures' on the right are actually a collection of craters.


View Larger Map

Comically enough, put Area 51 into Google maps and you'll end up with a rather large airstrip, bomb testing ground, and collection of hangars about 15 miles northeast of the Operation Cue detonation site. On a completely unrelated note, it seems that the USAF pays a few million in taxes on the area for its contractors, but won't allow a tax assessor on to the secret military testing grounds to corroborate the assessment.

More importantly with regards to the movie, the small collection of buildings would have been out of the bomb's most devastating blast range (the closest housing was put outside the 0.75 mile immediate blast radius in the actual test). The most unrealistic facet of the scene is that the refrigerator is thrown an appreciable distance from the blast in the first place (it would have been knocked over or pushed a few meters). On the plus side, the air-tight nature of the fridge would protect him from the drastic changes in overpressure that results in a shock wave (and consequently, popped eardrums, bruising, and potential lung collapse - among other things). It would also protect him from the intense thermal radiation (the kind where dark clothing may cause the heat to 'bleed-through' and burn the tissue underneath).

Despite the unrealistic nature of the refrigerator's trajectory, it's still not the worst situation. From a physics standpoint the refrigerator comes to a gradual stop, which is related to the concept of impulse. Impulse is the change in momentum over time (or the change in velocity over time with regard to mass). The longer a collision takes the less force is applied at any individual instance (this is the reason cars have crumple zones, but you're still more likely to survive in a car rolling down a hill than one that smashes into a concrete barrier). The material inside the fridge makes a difference too, but maybe Jones' hat isn't just for show.


Audience Perceptions and Presumptions
People tend to expect certain things in action movies. Survivability in a nuclear blast usually isn't one of those things. The middle ground of nuclear destruction lies somewhere between Duck and Cover and vaporizing every bit of matter within the blast zone. Tangentially: if you ever do find yourself outside in the midst of a nuclear holocaust, ducking and covering your head while hiding behind the tallest immediate sturdy obstacle between yourself and the explosion is the best way to go.

Many of Indiana Jones' previous stunts are arguably more deadly, but the association with nuclear weapons as the ultimate destructive force in the world can blur judgement. There are far less survivable things than a rolling refrigerator and a nuclear explosion.

Freefalling from a plane in a raft.

Very few people have survived a freefall at terminal velocity. Vesna Vulović is one of those select few. She survived a 10km freefall above Czechloslovakia when a bomb detonated and broke apart her plane in midair. She survived because the wreck landed on a steep incline that allowed for a gradual change in acceleration instead of an abrupt stop. Additionally, the -60°C air outside at 10km caused hypothermia, which - coupled with her chronic low blood pressure - prevented her from bleeding to death and suffering brain death before she could be rescued. Indiana Jones (along with Shortround and Willie) survives freefall approaching terminal velocity unsecured on a raft...twice (remember impulse from earlier? Jones' raft hits so hard it bounces).

Leaping from a tank as it drives over the edge of a cliff.

Heroes always seem to be saved by dried-out roots laying casually over the side of a cliff. This trope is so common that people tend to instantly ignore it whenever it pops up in movies. Apparently soil is best at holding dry desert weeds after it has been compacted by a tank...I guess?

Boarding a diving submarine in rough waters.

Swimming in the ocean isn't all that dangerous (German submariners in WW2 would often be granted time to swim when they were in the middle of the Atlantic, out of Allied aircraft's range). Swimming in choppy open ocean tends to be a bit more dangerous. Now, boarding a diving submarine is downright impossible, considering the fact that submariners trained to accomplish this maneuver in a matter of seconds. Turns out Indiana Jones is a time traveling Michael Phelps with a PhD in archeology...and a cloak of invisibility because where the hell did he hide once he got on that submarine?

Stopping a speeding mine cart with flat-soled shoes.

I'm not sure what kind of description this one merits. Perhaps this cat sliding in a box can exemplify some of the properties of friction forgotten here. At the very least the cat sliding in a box is a cat sliding in a box.

That should cover some aspects from all the previous movies (doubly so for Temple of Doom and its craziness). These two aspects all pale in comparison to the big Indiana Jones kicker.


Parody and Satire
One of the hallmarks through the series is the parody of conventional expectations of contemporary events, culture and attitudes. From the rocket engine test site to the lead-lined refrigerator, the parody is far more consistent than the original three movies. At first this might seem strange, but if you've got a keen eye for history, you'll notice that many of the same satire and parody is present in the earlier IJ films as well. From the luger that manages to shoot through an entire line of Nazi soldiers (this one is partially ironic as well, since some SS officers in various camps tried expeirments of seeing how many people could be killed with a single bullet); to the Middle Eastern royalty more impressed by a car than gold; to Nazi experimental aircraft (a decade early); to apathetic British occupying forces in India; to "I'm an American!" - the satire and parodies are everywhere, they're just less apparent because it's more expected. Nazis are evil - it's amusing when they're shot and fall over. Indian people are strange - a boy emperor and monkey brains for dessert fits right in with our expectations.

There are quite a few satirical elements at work here, some more subtle than others (and we've already covered "Duck and Cover" and nuclear testing). For instance: did you know that death by refrigerator was alarmingly frequent from the 1950s to the 1970s? Turns out many of the models couldn't be opened from the inside...and apparently refrigerators were child magnets. The fridge Jones climbs into happens to be lead-lined, which is a convenient way to avoid having your protagonist die of radiation poisoning. But it also happens to coincide with the '50s fascination for lead-based everything. From paints to toys, lead was everywhere (along with other dangerous things, like dagger-tipped lawn darts). Lead was known definitively to be a poison since at least the 1800s, but recognized by some Roman scholars as a source of maladies (and occasionally noted as a poison). Maybe people in the 1950s figured it'd be an easy way to weed out some of the dumb ones.

These sorts of things are present throughout the movie, but particularly in the first half (maybe this is a subconscious reason why many people thought the first half was better). From greasers and socs to CIA spooks, the film covers a vast variety of 1950s culture. I think one of the reasons people are willing to associate more with the first three IJ films is the fact that the 1930s presents a clear dichotomy - the Nazis are the definitive historical villain (this is also likely a reason why Temple of Doom sees a bit of a dip in popularity too). The 1950s are bit more blurred. High School history classes tend to have two things to say about the 1950s: they came after World War Two and before the Civil Rights movement (okay, they probably mention the baby boomers, too).


So what have we learned? The refrigerator isn't any less plausible than some other insane stunts in Indiana Jones movies. The monkeys though... I cannot reconcile the monkeys.

We've also learned people shouldn't talk on their cellphone on the bus.

Thyme for Time

My sister knows I make a lot of bad jokes. One of my favorites is "Thyme? I prefer Space!" whenever she happens to be cooking something and I see the jar of thyme leaves in her spice cabinet (...I told you they were bad). Unfortunately, thyme isn't very exciting, so let's talk about time instead.

Time, as is to be expected, is a very old concept. Time measurements have undergone very little change in the years since the Sumerians created them with their whacky base-60 numerical system and they were subsequently stolen by the Babylonians. Interestingly, it's called a second because it's the second division of the hour by 60 (sixty minutes in an hour, sixty seconds in a minute). The hour was historically defined as 1/12 of the time between sunrise and sunset (again, due to the fancy base-60 system). Today we use a 1/24 division of the mean solar day (a solar day being the time from noon on one day to noon on the next day). Days and years are both related to the sun (one for the Earth's revolution, the other for its orbit) - months and weeks are more lunar-related time measurements.

The year is a bit older, and stems from the creation of calendars and astrology, although most early civilizations reckoned years in regnal time (i.e. the duration of a monarch's reign). Years are bunched into decades, scores, centuries and millennia - but it gets a bit hazy after that (agricultural civilization only has twelve millennia under its belt, after all). After a millennium we've got non-standard geologic divisions - epochs, periods, eras, and eons.

And since the history of all time would make this post far too long (especially since my picture is to scale), let's talk about Earth's geologic time.

The most recent history of the Earth saw the rise of mammals and birds in the Cenozoic era (and humans specifically in the Quarternary period). Unfortunately the easily remembered term "Tertiary" for the penultimate part of the Cenozoic portion of the geologic timescale has been replaced by a few harder to remember (and harder to pronounce) periods. Because geologists hate people.

This relatively recent time is also when we had cool dinosaurs, and less exciting conifer trees. This period saw an explosion of life forms - from crocodiles and jellyfish to trilobites and crazy jawless fish (and a bunch of annoying insects in the Permian period). This is also the time period people usually associate with supercontinents like Pangaea.

In contrast to the Phanerozoic eon - the period of diverse, complex life on Earth - there's the Precambrian supereon (the vertical black line in the picture). The last portion of the Precambrian was the Neoproterozoic era, which was marked by the first appearance of animals, as well as an abundance of glaciation (a completely ice-covered 'snowball Earth' is thought to have occured during the Cryogenian period).

The Mesoproterozoic era is probably far more interesting for many people, since sexual reproduction (and much less exciting cell specialization) first appeared then. Geologically these periods saw lots of orogeny (mountain building). Algae has a field day (field period?) during the Ectasian period - with green algae forming oceanic colonies and the emergence of new and improved red algae. The supercontinent no one cares about - Rodinia - formed during the end of this era (in the Stenian period).

The Paleoproterozoic era has a lot of interesting happenings - unfortunately none of them appear interesting enough to merit a song by Bloodhound Gang. During the Statherian period the supercontinent Columbia formed (early complex single-celled organisms are rushed to the hospital ODed). In an effort to quell the mounting mountain deficit, the Earth creates a bunch of mountains during the Orosirian period (in a striking change from usual naming conventions this one is relatively normal, from the Greek for 'mountain range').

Mountains tend to be formed either from volcanoes or plate tectonics. Mountains on land are the result of two continental plates colliding at a convergent plate boundary (see the Himalayas for a modern example). The process takes millions of years, but eventually the mountains are built, only to be taken down by the natural forces of erosion.

This era saw the development of chloroplasts and normal photosynthesis as a development from algae's earlier foray into making deadly poisons. For millions of years the Earth's atmosphere had minimal amounts of oxygen. Early life produced oxygen as a byproduct, and inadvertently pumped out large amounts of a poisonous chemical. Oxygen is a very deadly element (flammable, reactive, and originally poisonous to all existent forms of life). This mass-production of oxygen resulted in fine layers of rust in rocks from the Rhyacian period. The oxygen bound with iron dissolved in seawater to form insoluble iron-oxide (also known as rust), which settled on the ocean floor and eventually became part of a rock layer.

The large amounts of this new-fangled oxygen also resulted in the major extinction which defined the Siderian period. Many geologic periods are bound with palentology and biology, in that the boundaries correspond to major extinction events. The K-T extinction is usually the most famous of these (K for Cretaceous period, T for the now defunct Tertiary period - take that easy understandability for future generations!) for killing off everyone's beloved dinosaurs. The most devastating extinction event happened at the end of the Permian period (the P-T or Permian-Triassic extinction), which killed off nearly 90% of all species on Earth. Nobody cares about it though, because it's hard to love a trilobite...plus it killed off a bunch of insects, and I think we can all do without squirrel-sized mosquitoes.

The Archean eon (or eon of origin) featured the development of simple singled-celled organisms and bacteria. The Neoarchean era here is the time when life started pumping out oxygen into the atmosphere to kill off their descendants. On a completely unrelated note, the lack of oxygen during this era should result in a dead Captain Picard in some random episode of Star Trek. The Hadean and Archean eons are usually divided by the occurrence of abiogenesis (the origin of life). The bacteria often left small fossilized imprints in rocks, which allows us to date the origins of life - but not yet definitively how it formed. The large collections of bacteria also resulted in some interesting features called microbial mats and stromatolites, which are cool looking little bulges of bacteria and accretioned material (...cooler and less disgusting in fossilized form). Many of these formed during the Mesoarchean era, but have become increasingly less common throughout Earth's history due to increases in the number predators (although they can still be found in a living form in a few special environments). Most of the oldest rocks on Earth date to the Paleoarchean and Eoarchean eras.

During late Hadean and early Archean eons (especially the Eoarchean era), the oceans began to form. The Earth's atmosphere - like much of the matter in the early solar system - was probably made of hydrogen and helium. These elements easily escaped Earth's gravitational pull and left the planet's surface bare. The subsequent atmosphere would be created from volcanoes expelling gases trapped during the solidification of the molten planet. Volcanoes expelled mostly water vapor and carbon dioxide (and they still do), which provided a basis for the atmosphere and oceans. Oceans developed from rain and condensation in cloud cover along with comet and meteorite collisions over millions of years (the moon is also theorized to be a result of a large collision). Most comets and meteorites hold an appreciable amount of ice, which likely added substantially to the amount of water in the oceans.

At the time there were far more things flying around the solar system. This is one of the reasons most of the impact craters in the solar system date back 3.5 to 4.0 billion years. Before that time they would impact molten Earth. Due to erosion and geologic processes, most craters don't remain visible on Earth like they do on the moon and other planetary bodies without an atmosphere (...and acne-ridden teenagers). Heavy elements like iron and nickel sank to the center of the molten Earth, while lighter elements like silicon and carbon (and compounds like sodium chloride - salt) drifted to the surface.

The proto-Earth was likely created by a nearby supernova which expelled a tremendous amount of hydrogen and helium, along with trace amounts of other elements (trace being a relative term, considering a vast majority of the Earth is made out of them).

And there we have an abbreviated history of the Earth. It turns out dinosaurs aren't important enough to warrant more than a sentence in the whole affair. This is unfortunate, because dinosaurs are sweet.

The Quarternary is the only part of my picture that's appreciably off; it's slightly too big - it should be 1/40 of the first 100 million years (or about 1.25 pixels tall). The image is 3456 pixels tall, for reference.

...Yes, I did waste a lot of time making that picture.

Hydrogen Hydroxide or Hydroxic Acid?

"You know when you go to a concert and it's like punk rock and the kids get on stage...and they jump into the crowd, stage diving? People think that's dangerous - but not me. Because humans are made out of 95% water, so the audience is 5% away from a pool."

The esteemed, late Hedberg may be a few percentage points off (adult humans are closer to 60% water), this is just one reason why water is one of the most consistently awesome chemicals that exists.

Structure of Water

One of the first chemical formulas many people learn, H₂O is a common name for water. A more fitting chemical formula is HOH. H in this case is an ion of hydrogen, often called hydron, and is a positively charged ion (also called a cation). OH, also called hydroxide, is a negatively charged ion (also called an anion). Unfortunately there are no dogions (I can't guarantee there won't be other bad chemistry jokes later).

This combination of a cation and an anion results in a polarized molecule (the oxygen ends up negatively charged, the hydrogen ends become positively charged). This relatively unique structure is one of the primary reasons for all of water's awesomeness.

So, what is cool about water?

Properties of Water

Water is amphoteric, which means it is both an acid and a base (hence the title of this post). Contrary to what the Simpsons would like you to believe, mixing acids and bases doesn't cause massive explosions that turn you green (unless they're very concentrated...but they still won't turn you green). You'll get a salt and water. The most common chemical formula you'll see for illustrating this concept is the reaction between hydrochloric acid (HCl) and lye (sodium hydroxide - a base, NaOH) to get table salt (sodium chloride - NaCl) and H₂O. I was never good with chemical formulas written out in prose, so here's what it looks like:

NaOH + HCl → NaCl + H₂O

Water can be superheated above its normal boiling point. If distilled water is cooked in a container without deformities or dirt (no scratches and no dust) it can surpass its normal boiling point. It also tends to instantaneously boil when an impurity is added to the water (a spoon, sugar, etc.). This is where the idea of 'explosive water' comes from...although it's not so much exploding as it is simultaneously boiling everywhere.

Water has a high heat of fusion (energy needed to freeze) and high heat of vaporization (energy needed to turn into a gas). This gives it great thermoregulatory properties. This is the reason for warmer temperatures near lakes during winter (the water gives heat to the surrounding air in order to freeze), and why sweat cools the body (the water takes heat from your body in order to evaporate). Any liquid could perform this action, but water does it particularly well due to the large amounts of energy needed to overcome the attraction between individual molecules. This is also why water is a preferred coolant in many engines and industries (it takes a lot of heat to boil water). IUPAC standards require that this paragraph maintain an excitment level of 6.0 ±0.5 exciteograms. How about a picture of Schwarzenegger as Mister Freeze to meet this quota?

Ice floats in water. As it cools from 4°C to 0°C, water expands. When water freezes normally it forms a crystal lattice which has more volume than its watery counterpart (same mass in a larger space). This is why ice cubes (...and icebergs - take that Titanic) float. Another side effect from freezing is that icebergs end up mostly freshwater. Although saltwater has a lower freezing point than freshwater, the formation of ice crystals slowly presses out salt and other impurities in the water.

Water has the highest surface tension of all non-metallic liquids (not including solutions with water as the solvent like saltwater or sugar water). Surface tension is an aspect of all liquids, but the polarity of water increases its surface elasticity. Surface tension is the result of intermolecular forces trying to pull the liquid into the smallest possible volume (if gravity didn't exist this would be a sphere). Since the liquid is as compact as it's going to get (liquids aren't easily compressible), this means things need a certain amount of force to penetrate into the liquid. This is also why water forms spherical droplets when falling and people urinating on electric fences aren't electrocuted.

Pure water doesn't conduct electricity. Unfortunately this property isn't as useful for swimmers as it might seem. If exposed to the atmosphere the water will disolve some of the air (and won't be pure anymore). Thus we have electrocuted swimmers. 

Electrolysis separates water into its consitutent parts - diatomic hydrogen and diatomic oxygen. Running an electric current through water seperates the water into the natural state of its two component elements (hydrogen gas and oxygen gas). Unfortunately this isn't a good way to make hydrogen as a fuel since it takes more electrical energy to create the hydrogen than you'd get from burning it.

Water, like its constituent parts, is transparent, odorless and tasteless. All the crappy tasting water you've ever drank is due to impurities (I don't mind iron so much). It does take on a slight bluish tinge in large quanitites, and this is a minor reason why the sky is blue.

Without even touching hydrology or the biologic processes that rely on water, I believe we have defintively established that water is awesome. Way better than isopropanol and tetrafluoroethylene anyway.

Deutschkurs I

So, you've heard about German compound words but you just assumed they'd be simple like "bathroom" or "airmail" (das Badezimmer and die Luftpost, respectively). Well, Germans like to go longer. While it's relatively easy to surpass the English "antidisestablishmentarianism" in letter count by cheating (in the same way that antidisestablishmentarianism is mainly made out of prefixes and suffixes), German has plenty of long words without resorting to such cunning linguistics.

It's important to note that - like many languages that aren't English - German has noun genders. They're not all that important if you're saying one single German word, but they're included for the crazy people that want to build sentences. The genders are feminine (die), masculine (der), and neuter/neutrum (das). You'll want to get it out of your head right now that linguistic gender in German corresponds to actual gender - it doesn't (the girl - das Mädchen - isn't linguistically female, although some younger Germans may use die Mädchen instead). That'd be too easy.

A few long German words you might actually hear:

Schadenfreude (f) -

[shah-din-froi-duh] enjoyment from the misfortune of others

This is a compound noun from der Schaden (damage/injury/adversity) and die Freude (joy/delight). It popped up in the early 1900s in German literature, and people have been loving and hating it ever since. I hear the New York Times crosswords like to feature it frequently.

Fliegerabwehrkanone (f) -

[flee-gur-ahb-vehr-kah-no-nuh] antiaircraft gun

This one was so long for the Germans that it has an abbreviation, one you're probably more familiar with: FLAK. Coined when military hardware was constructed with the expressed purpose of shooting down enemy airplanes in the 1930s, it's a combination of der Flieger (flying object/airplane), die Abwehr (Defense), and der Kanone (Cannon/Gun). It has a closely related cousin in the Panzerabwehrkanone.

Schwangerschaftsabbruch (m)-

[shvahn-gehr-shahfts-ahb-bruch] (medical) abortion.

Literally meaning "pregnancy severance," the word consists of die Schwangerschaft (pregnancy) from the early 1700s and the much older der Bruch (break-off/severance) from around the mid 1300s - because Germans have been stopping things for longer than they've been getting pregnant. In the Victorian era (from the 1830s) to the Weimar Republic, the preferred idiomatic expression was "to bring a child to heaven". After that they didn't care anymore and it was just too long so they went with Abtreibung.

Fahrvergnügen (n) -

[Far-fver-gnew-gin (not like the drink)] driving pleasure

This word was popular in Volkswagen's 1989 advertising camapign, and confused much of the American populace because no one knew what it meant. You'll be hardpressed to find a German who actually uses it either - it does, strangely, also have a synonym: Fahrspaß [far-shpahs]. From fahren (to drive) and das Vergnügen (pleasure/enjoyment).

Kreislaufzusammenbruch (m)

[Krice-lauf-tsu-zam-min-brooch (long o sound, not the fancy pin)] circulatory failure

Due to the way the German language is structured you'll often get a noun pulling double duty by indicating action. In this case, the noun is often a means to convey 'to pass out'. Er hatte einen Kreislaufzusammenbruch. He passed out. From der Kreislauf (circulation) - which is a compound noun itself from der Kreis (circle), der Lauf (course/way) - and der Zusammenbruch (failure/collapse). It should be noted that Germans are very concerned about their circulation. In the world of modern medicine, purported circulation problems are one of the leading reasons for Germans' hospital visits. This word, too, has a synonym: der Kreislaufkollaps.

...That's right, I said cunning linguistics.

"Quotes in Quotes in Quotes..."

"...add another quote and make it a gallon."

--Groucho Marx (in Animal Crackers)

20th century American comedian

There is a quote for almost everything under the sun. In fact, there's probably a quote about making quotes under the sun. So, I figured I'd break out a collection of exciting quotes I have accidentally remembered throughout my random accretion of information (...but looked up for proper wording).

The theme is randomness, in case you were wondering.

"Hunger is the best pickle."
--Benjamin Franklin,
18th century American statesman

This is a strange and rare quote from Benjamin Franklin. Pickles were one of the most common appetizers in America during later 1700s. This quote essentially says "If you don't eat anything you'll be hungrier." An outspoken proponent of moderation and a well-honed lifestyle (not so much a practitioner), Franklin doesn't want you to fill up on pickles before your next big meal. I would be remiss if I didn't link you to what some other crazy people say the meaning of the quote is (the meaning of pickle as 'a difficult situation' has been around longer than pickle as a food (although pickle as a sauce is oldest of all)). You'd be surprised how often this shows up on cooking websites talking about pickles...little do they know they are promoting abstinence from pickles.

"The first casualty of war is truth."
--Aeschylus,
Greek playwright

Americans tend to see this in every war - the curbing of civil liberties during wartime. The latest pair of conflicts are two of the latest casualties, but many past wars have seen a restriction on the freedom of press and speech (and occasionally assembly). Unfortunately Iraq and Afghanistan may end up being a bit more of a special case, considering the perpetual nature of discontent (and subsequently, terrorism). Aeschylus just tells us it's not a unique American phenomenon, and that leaders just don't like to tell the populace everything is going to hell.

"...going to war without France is like going deer hunting without an accordion. You just leave a lot of useless, noisy baggage behind."
--Jed Babbin,
onetime US Deputy Undersecretary of Defense

He may be a Republican who believes in a liberal-driven media, but at least he's got some good French comedy. Although, France really writes its own jokes, sometimes. That's right, I photoshopped a picture of an accordion wearing a beret - I would have thrown a loaf of French bread in there but that would have been too many French clichés, even for me.

"Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself."
--Samuel Clemens 'Mark Twain',

19th century American humorist and author

Here we see that mockery of the American legislative system and the crazy kooks in the Capitol is not limited to our own century. Twain has lots of good comedy and interesting anecdotes, unfortunately they're usually not at a quotable length. His essay The Awful German Language seemed to be a favorite of one of my German professors (who excerpted it at two seperate awards ceremonies).

"Perfection is attained not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery,
20th century French aviator and author

Some might remember this quote from when you discover Engineering in Civilization IV (and Leonard Nimoy reads it awesomely). It is from Saint-Exupery's memoir Terre des Hommes (literally Land of Men; published as Wind, Sand and Stars in English) of when he flew mail routes in South America and the Sahara, published in 1939. I don't know French, so I can't give you a fancy context, unfortunately. We do know he's an awesome Frenchman though, since the crux of his book deals with a plane crash in the Sahara in 1934 and him wandering to civilization with his navigator.

"Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel."
--Samuel Johnson,
18th century English author

This is often misinterpreted to mean that anyone who believes in patriotism is a scoundrel. Taken in the context of Johnson's contemporary biographer (and friend) James Boswell's words, Johnson was referring to false patriotism - those who would hide their misdeeds behind a veil of ingenuine patriotism. Considering he was an Englishman and that whole 'American revolution' thing was going on, it has been suggested that he was referring to Edmund Burke.

Now, why the post of quotes? So you can avoid being berated by people who insist that using quotes isn't the perogative of intelligent people...by using quotes themselves.

"Wise men make proverbs, but fools repeat them."
--Samuel Palmer,
19th century painter and writer

Strangely enough, this is the only unsourced quote in my list. No one is sure if this quote exists, because Palmer's son, Alfred, burned a bunch of his father's papers so that they wouldn't fall under the public's watchful eye (despite the fact that almost no one knew who his father was when he did it). History will show Alfred was a douche.

"A facility for quotation covers the absence of original thought."
--Dorothy L. Sayers (Lord Peter Wimsey in "Gaudy Night").
20th century British author

But this one is also cheating, because it's said by the author through a character in a work of fiction.

Now I'm all quoted out.

In 10,000 Years Skulls Could Be Rainbows

I know what you're thinking: "The Cold War had the constant threat of nuclear annihilation, but what do I get?" The US Department of Energy has just the thing for you. 

The Waste Isolation Pilot Plant (WIPP) is a transuranic nuclear waste disposal facility. It sits in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert (because if Chihuahuas are hit with a freight load of radiation maybe they'll grow bigger and be less annoying) near Carlsbad, New Mexico. They've been piling nuclear waste into it since 1999, and they'll be doing it for quite a few more years. They put it there because (it's easier than repudiating the START treaties so we can reprocess the waste) the location is remote, the geology is sound, and New Mexico is trying to catch up with New Jersey for 'Waste Capital of the World'.

The main storage facility lies half a mile below the surface of the Earth, nestled in the Salado and Castile salt domes of the Delaware basin (nevermind that the Delaware basin is not located in Delaware). Here, the unique geologic strata will ensure the facility will remain sealed well into the foreseeable future. The salt (contrary to our usual interactions with salt and other minerals) is relatively fluid and will be able to effectively seal any cracks which may develop in the shell of the subterranean structure. The salt formations indicate aridity on a geologic timescale - which is important, because nuclear waste in your groundwater will probably make it taste like Bellevue tap water. The rock salt also provides radiation shielding at nearly the same rate as concrete. Due to the heat from constant radiation the waste containers will be prone to condensation, and so the air will be ciriculated to maintain the integrity of the radioactive casks. The access and ventilation shafts sit in a 4 mile by 4 mile plot of land recessed from casual human intrusion.

The interesting part is that the EPA has assigned the WIPP a regulatory period of 10,000 years - the half-life of most of the waste inside (that doesn't mean it'll be safe in 10,000 years, just half as dangerous, really). This means that the EPA feels it has a moral responsibility to assure safety for future generations and warn them against intrusion into the structure (lest they become Fallout-esque mutants). So how do you warn people 10,000 years in the future that "digging here may be a bad idea, yo"?

10,000 years is a long time. 10,000 years ago humans had barely discovered agriculture. We've had alphabets for less than 3,000 years. We've known about radiation only since the 1800s. If you were trying to convey a message to people unimaginably far into the future, how would you do it?

Languages evolve quickly - words are invented and discarded constantly. Colors and symbols are culture specific, and their meanings can change on a whim (swastikas, rainbows, skull and crossbones - symbology has evolved for each). Even the relatively famous and common nuclear trefoil has met with some symbolism migration recently. So the WIPP hired a consortium of linguists, scientists, anthropologists, futurists, and science fiction authors to determine the best way to say, "don't dig here if you don't want a face full of radiation."

What did they decide? Two rings of equally spaced, 25-foot high monoliths etched in 7 languages (the six languages of the United Nations and the local language - Navajo) with Edvard Munch's "The Scream" face and some symbols (like ...Dr. Evil's head, for some reason); a collection of bunkers which repeat and expand on the information; and a berm (soil wall) showcasing the facility's underground footprint (including underground radar reflectors and magnets). In addition a set of documents will be sent to archives and libraries internationally. The plan is to use sturdy materials resistant to corrosion with redundant backups, constructed so they cannot be salvaged or easily removed. The finalized plan (with material types, quanity and placement) is expected to be complete in 2028.

How will we know if it works? Look for the three-headed man in the year 12029.

The Dinosaurs are Dead

I'm no literary afficianado. My time spent with reading is usually limited to my course-related historical non-fiction or (admittedly less exciting) textbooks, but I'll tell you that Michael Crichton - from Andromeda Strain to Jurassic Park, from Timeline to Prey - was my favorite author. I say "was", because unfortunately Crichton passed away due to cancer on November 4th (maybe you missed it due to that whole "electing a new President"-thing). 

A Chicago native, he majored in anthropology at Harvard and eventually wrote novels while studying at Harvard Medical. Originally he had planned on majoring in English literature, but an exchange with one of his professors changed his mind. Suspecting the professor of intentionally handing him poor grades, he plagiarized a paper by George Orwell (informing another professor beforehand). He got a B-. His first major successful novel, Andromeda Strain, was published under a psuedonym while he was still at Med School, but soon his attention would be turned towards using his new found medical terminology and academic education to create 'techno-thrillers' and 'near future science fiction' (as well as non-fiction like Travels and Five Patients and the TV show ER).

 

Now, my enjoyment of Crichton began in 4th grade SSR periods (That's Silent Sustained Reading, not that it usually followed any of those three criteria). Maybe it was my love of dinosaurs, maybe it was the inclusion of complex scientific theories (or maybe it was the copious amounts of swear words), but I loved that book. I can tell you right now that if Ray Bradbury's bibliocaustic society ever manifests itself, I'll be the first one running off into the woods and staking a claim on Jurassic Park (I'm already half way there: "The sign said ELECTRIFIED FENCE 10,000 VOLTS DO NOT TOUCH, but Nedry opened it with his bare hand...").

Despite the years of R.L. Stine and the Boxcar Children, Sideways Storys from Wayside School and Choose Your Own Adventure novels, I always came back to Jurassic Park. Even when it was tattered and torn, kicked down the halls of middle school, and missing the ending I still kept it. It's been retired now - sitting in my desk at home, its position filled by a double that cost $0.25 at the Salvation Army. Accompanied by a version of the book in German.

Appendicitis is no treat, but it's much better with Timeline and Sphere to entertain you. And weekends without video games were just that bit easier when you could borrow Andromeda Strain and Congo from the Door County Public Library. He may not be known for his sweeping literary themes and timeless masterpieces, but I can guarantee you no one's building a dinosaur themepark in the future without some careful considerations.

requiescat in pace