Monday, June 16, 2014

I'll Live Longer Than You - Game of Thrones - Season 4, Episode 10

This episode, named by HBO, "The Children", basically shows the kids are taking over.  Whoever started the season as a loved child, or a spoiled child, an abused, or ignored, or abandoned or sold-to-horse-fighter child is now a grown up, no longer just trying to survive a story made by their elders, and officially taking over their futures.  

After teasing us last week with some barbaric kill or be killed scenario between Mance and Jon, the two end up drinking Free Folk Liquor, which Jon probably should have expected to be harder than Westeros wine. Bodies in the snow are covered in crows feasting away, and from the top of the Wall it looks like a vicious ant battle.  After trekking through the remains of last night's battle, which are like a morbid, sick, party mess,  he peacefully surrenders to the Free Folk in the forest bordering the Wall, and he and Mance commiserate over their dead, and especially Ygritte.  Mance, despite knowing he shouldn't have trusted Jon, really thought that Jon would have at least stayed loyal to the Free Folk for her sake.  He razzes Jon for breaking his chastity vows (vows Jon's just heard he didn't really break on a technicality).  Their real grief is reserved for the King of the Giants, and the six Brothers he took with him at the inner gate.  Jon and Mance toast fallen friends, and it's obvious that the two are just going to continue fighting because that's what everyone's here to do.

Pointless wars are always the best ones!

Their hearts aren't really in it.  And, both know how pointless the fighting is; Mance doesn't want the Free Folk to be killed and re-animated as undead warriors.  Jon doesn't want 99,000 Free Folk turning into White Walkers that will be harder to kill.  Mance doesn't want to destroy the Wall he's hoping will protect the Free Folk. Their confab, as each tries to negotiate despite having a shitty position, is cut short when Jon tries to knife Mance and fails.  Mance isn't angry, he's just disappointed, insulting Jon's and the Night's Watch honor for trying to assassinate him in his own tent during a peace negotiation.  This confab is further interrupted by two flanks of cavalry riding through and killing Free Folk at will.

It resembles, if nothing else, the end of Monty Python's Holy Grail, where King Arthur almost storms the castle until he's interrupted by cops arresting John Cleese, and the whole thing ends right there on the field with a confused mob of cops, actors in Arthurian garb, and various reporters.  Stannis doesn't actually fight, and neither does Mance, who now realizes he and the Free Folk are fucked.  After a horseman slices down a stray Free Folk, Stannis just appears behind his cavalry, with Ser Davos telling them all how to address Stannis, and Mance deciding he'll die free rather than kneel, and giving Northern Fashion Advice.  Luckily, Jon Snow introduces himself, and uses the my-dad-died-for-you card to get Mance only captured.

The conversation between them brings up a new sticking point.  Sure, Jon could let them through.  But then, the North would be full of people with no intention of bowing to whatever King rules.  Which is not the deal.  Being on the safe side of the wall means kneeling for the King's protection.

The entire Stannis clan, including Selyse and Shireen, turns out for the funerals of the Night's Watch Brothers.  Master Aemmon praises the fallen Brothers for dying with no hope of glory or reward.  Everyone else quietly sets the bodies on fire and watches them burn.  Ser Alliser Thorne isn't among the bodies or the mourners, although Janos Slynt somehow has totally forgotten what a useless coward he is, and Samwell doesn't seem interested in spilling the beans.  Now, Castle Black is filled with people, including s a few women.  Which we realize is terrible when we see Melisandre way-too-interested in Jon.

Jon leaves the funeral to go and remind Tormund that the Free Folk have been completely defeated, and that their war is essentially over.  Tormund doesn't really care, either way.  He informs Jon that the Free Folk don't do funerals, as there's no saying goodbye to a corpse that can't hear you.  Jon suddenly realizes why every funeral he's ever attended feels hollow- they're really only for the living.  After reminding Jon that Ygritte loved him, mostly because she constantly threatened to kill him, and wanted to be the only one killing Jon at Castle Black.  Tormund's only demand is that Jon burn Ygritte's body on the Free Side of the Wall, which he does.  As Jon walks slowly away from the flaming funeral pyre, he's saying goodbye to more than just her.  He's saying goodbye to the boy who fell in love with her, and didn't know who to be loyal to.

The Mountain isn't doing as well as Jon.  Turns out, Oberyn left a surprise for them all; a poison on the spear tips that will kill The Mountain soon. Pycelle just wants to administer painkillers, but Qyburn, he of the metal hand and right attitude, has convinced Cersei that he can keep The Mountain alive.  Pycelle is indignant as he insists that Qyburn was expelled from the Maesters for a reason, or several, but Cersei just kicks Pycelle out, demoting him to old man.  Pycelle is angry at Cersei, but unable to retaliate for now.  Qyburn reassures Cersei that he can save The Mountain.  Qyburn is happy to assure her that The Mountain will still be a badass as blood flows, Frankenstein-style, through tubes into jars.  Cersei isn't willing to let someone die who can still strike fear into her enemies.

She also isn't willing to leave her son, Tommen.  She is convinced, for good reason, that Margaery and Tywin will fight a proxy war over the only child she still has.  She's so committed to staying and turning it into a three-way war, that she's willing to throw away everything.  Her crown, Tommen's crown, and the honor of her family, by admitting, publicly, that her children are Jaime's.  Tywin, who has dismissed this accusation as rumors, is visibly shaken when Cersei declares it to be true.  He doesn't want to hear it.  Cersei wants him to listen, just once, to one of his children.  Cersei wants Tywin to see what his children really are, even if it's a disappointment to his ambition to run the realm.  He practically runs away, still in denial.  Note:  earlier in the confab, Tywin confirms that Tyrion's to be executed the next day.

I only want to hear "Yes, Father"

Cersei's next stop, and this is a busy day for her, is the meeting room of the Kingsguard, where Jaime accuses her of killing their brother.  Cersei feels the same toward Tyrion that you and I would feel towards cancer.  Literally.  Jaime forgets all about Tyrion the minute that Cersei kisses him and tells him that duty to the Lannisters no longer matters to her.  She doesn't love her father, she doesn't love her duties.  She loves her son.  And his father. And she's past caring about the consequences of anyone learning the truth.  It feels like Cersei's finally taking control of her life, but it also shows the bubble she lives in.  Once she's found out, and people realize Tommen doesn't belong on the Iron Throne, the cushy life in the same castle with her lover will end.  Her kids wouldn't even be able to inherit Casterly Rock, as bastards.  And she would spend her days in Pentos, or secluded on the rocky Western Shores of Westeros, cursing other people's judgement of her.  Jaime is in the same bubble, though, and the two gleefully put aside their differences and past wrongs so that Jaime can push aside the White Book of the Kingsguard and fuck his sister on their conference table.

The people of Meereen aren't done needing Dany's help.  An elderly man appears, and impresses Dany with his knowledge of the Westeros language, and his former "job" as a slave tutor for a rich man's children.  Owned by what appears to have been a decent man, he was loved and respected by his pupils.  Since the conquest of Meereen, he's lost his home and discovered that the new shelters for freed slaves are free-for-alls of crime and despair.  Dany promises to nip that in the bud, but the guy really just wants his old life back.  He was valued, perhaps because as a slave, you get a specific price which defines one's value.  His pupils meant everything to him, despite the obvious power imbalance in their lives, and Dany must confront the fact that some people prefer "belonging" to someone else, as it guarantees them a position, even if it's a lowly position.  As a valued slave of a wealthy man, he felt safe, respected, and loved. The chaos of sudden, unexpected freedom isn't a ladder for everyone.  Some lose what little they had.  When the elderly man asks to literally return to slavery, Dany must refuse his request.  She wants to be Queen to a free people.  But she makes him a deal.  He can contract with his former owner, returning to his servitude, for a year.  This gives him the option of leaving when the year is up.  Or so Dany hopes.  Barristan reminds her that other masters will ruthlessly exploit this new rule, and people just freed would find themselves basically yoked to their masters through unfair contracts again.

This future problem pales in comparison to the one literally carried into her throne room.  A weeping peasant can barely tell them what Drogon, Dany's black and most dangerous dragon, has done now.  He can only place his sack down and open it, revealing the charred bones of his three-year-old daughter.  Dany is horrified.  After letting an elderly man sell himself back into slavery, she must turn her children into prisoners.  She tearfully leads the two smaller ones into an underground chamber, keeping them busy with a snack while she snaps collars on.  Tears are already on her cheeks.  As she leaves and they struggle against their new chains, they literally sob for their mother, who cries as the chamber is closed.   They want freedom, but Dany can't risk any more losses to her people so her children can wander free.  Another choice- freedom at all costs for a few, or chains for the good of all?

Mooooooommmmmmyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!

Team Bran is trudging through snow and ice, over hills and through valleys, and not a single one of them is wearing... a... fucking.... hat.  They're all tired, but despite Meera telling Jojen that it's break time, Jojen and Bran are willing to soldier on, especially since they can now, at the crest of a small hill, see their destination.  A vast, ancient tree.  Roots spread out partly down the next hillside, and a brief interlude of sun shines on it's ivory trunk and red leaves. A cave underneath, into the next hill, offers shelter.  They just need to trudge through one more small valley, and then they can figure out what they're supposed to do at this tree.  Jojen looks strangely relieved, even more than the others, as if he wasn't expecting to see the end of their journey.  One is reminded of his dire prediction of fire at Craster's.

Well, let's get to learning all about my powers

They get down and mostly through the valley through a new wind and snow easily enough.  There are sudden sounds of someone punching through the snow below, and Jojen is quickly on the ground, struggling against a wight as more undead hands free themselves from the snowcover.  Meera is frantic as she races back to save Jojen, leaving Hodor with Bran.  Bran sends Hodor to help Meera, but he's clearly not up to the task, and Bran wargs into him so Hodor can turn into a fighting machine.  When Jojen gets back up, Meera literally pushes him back down, out of the fight, where he lays useless on the ground. Bran is alone, perfect for the wight who pops up from the snow right in front of Bran, which he can barely keep from doing whatever wights do.  Summer the Direwolf springs into action, saving Bran at the last minute as Meera hacks apart the wight attacking her.  She turns around to see a wight mercilessly stabbing Jojen, not unlike the killing of Talisa at the Red Wedding.  Jojen can only lay motionless as his blood spurts out with every stab.

Oh, so I die after all.  Nuts. 

It's looking bleak for Team Bran when fireballs start vaporizing the wights.  A small, childlike being has appeared, telling them all to haul ass into the cave.  Meera, who doesn't want to leave Jojen behind, is forced between dying with her brother or running to safety.  Jojen sends her away, and she gives him a quick death before scrambling up the hill with the others.  The kid, wrapped in rags and dreads, vaporizes Jojen, presumably so he won't re-animate.  They all make it into the cave, the kid thro, who explain that the power that re-animates the dead can't work in her realm.  Team Bran is now totally confused, until the kid reveals that she is one of the Children of the Forest, the original inhabitants of Westeros.  Despite her small appearance, and her apparent youth, she's probably much older than even Hodor.

The others, still a little dazed and weary, follow their rescuer through the roots of the weirwood tree, to the center of the roots, in which stands a lone, elderly man.  Bran, now down on the floor, raises himself on his arms, and identifies this man as the Three-Eyed Raven, the mysterious being that called to Bran from Winterfell, from almost the very beginning.  Meera wants the old man to give her some comfort for her brother's loss.  He has none to give, he can only tell Meera that Jojen knew he would die looking for the old man, but came anyway.  The Three-Eyed Raven then explains that he's been watching their whole journey, and their whole lives, through whatever eyes were available.  Though a little late, he offers to help Bran recover what he's lost.  Bran, hopeful, thinks this means he'll walk again.  The Three-Eyed Raven disappoints him, by confirming that Bran will never walk again.  He offers Bran the chance to fly.  Bran realizes that this journey, and his fate, are about more than his desire to be whole again.

Podrick and Brienne get a late start, after losing their horses in the night.  Brienne is angry, and tells Pod that he'll be the horse for a bit, as they trudge off to the Eyrie, to see if Arya Stark can be found there.  Their journey, from King's Landing to here, has probably been a long trudge with Brienne noting everything Pod's done wrong along the way.  But today is different.  Today, about ten miles from the Eyrie, they meet up with a kid.  Playing with a small sword. At first, they just want directions, but this kid is curious.  And the more she learns about Brienne, the more this kid likes her.  A woman!  With a sword!  Who learned how to fight despite her father!  Arya is literally about to make a best friend when The Hound decides there's been enough understanding and communication.  This is Game of Thrones, after all.  When Podrick identifies The Hound, Brienne realizes who this little kid is.   She tries to make nice, convince Arya that she's on a mission from Arya's mother, but The Hound accuses her of being a patsy for the Lannisters, and Arya doesn't trust Brienne, either.  Brienne practically begs Arya to come with her, offering her safety.  But, The Hound lists all the places and people Arya's lost, and insults Brienne for thinking Arya could be safe anywhere.

Brienne doesn't buy that The Hound is more of a guardian, although he finally admits that's what he's been doing.  Finally able to admit that Arya is more than a hostage, he and Brienne get right down into a match of screams and swords and punches and rocks, equal in size and skill.  When Brienne gives The Hound the choice to surrender, The Hound reminds us all what a motherfucking badass he is when he grabs Oathkeeper, and squeezes it so hard his hands bleed, so he can yank it from her and start beating her with his bare hands.  He kicks her in the groin, and Brienne screams so hideously it must be the first time she's been gotten there.  But she's not done. She screams as she diverts The Hound's killing blow, screams as she bites The Hound in the neck.  She grunts with every new hit from The Hound, and she roars in fury as she punches The Hound off a cliff.  He falls onto the rocks below.

Her victory is short-lived.  Neither she nor Podrick know where Arya went.  So, that whole fight was for nothing.  Brienne and Pod scramble off, as Arya sneaks down to see The Hound.  He hasn't lost his vicious sense of humor, and refuses water.   He tells Arya to go off with Brienne.  She doesn't want anyone's protection, which The Hound mocks, and she informs him that she has officially outlived him.  The Hound's last request is for Arya to finish him off.  When she doesn't want to end him quickly, The Hound taunts her with the murder of her friend, and regrets not raping her older sister, claiming that raping Sansa would have given one happy memory in a life of war, fights, betrayals, and humiliations.  Arya is unmoved.  She silently approaches him, only to take his silver and leave him to suffer.  The Hound is calling after her to kill him as she wanders off.

I guess this is how we part, then

Tyrion, enjoying one last sleep before death, is surprised by Jaime freeing him.  He shows Tyrion the way to go and meet Varys, who will actually get him out of King's Landing.  They share a hug, two brothers who can never see each other again.  Tyrion must go to parts unknown;  Jaime must stay with his power-hungry family.  When Jaime leaves him to meet Varys, Tyrion hesitates, and sneaks back into the Red Keep, to see his old rooms.  He probably intended to see his father, but when he gets to the Hand's chamber, he sees Shae sleeping, nude, calling out for Tywin, her lion.  Tyrion is hit with the final blow from his father.  Shae grabs a knife, Tyrion leaps on her and yanks it away.  They struggle, and Tyrion grabs a lovely gold chain, leaps back off the bed, and strangles her with it.  A Lannister mistress, killed with Lannister gold.  Tyrion, even more heartbroken over her death than her betrayal, whimpers an apology to Shae. Then he grabs a crossbow, to deal with the real problem.

Oh, you're supposed to be here even less than I'm supposed to be here....

Tywin has escaped death so far by being on the toilet.  He is, perhaps, the only man in Westeros who keeps his shit (pun intended) while held at bowpoint on a privy.  After figuring out that Jaime freed Tyrion, he offers to go and calmly discuss matters back in his room.  Tyrion makes his father admit that Tywin's always wanted Tyrion dead.  Tywin, perfectly calm, decides to admit Tyrion has earned his respect, just for living when everyone wanted him dead.  Despite telling Cersei the execution was full steam ahead, Tywin now claims that he never meant to actually execute Tyrion.  In fact, he acts like the whole idea of executing a Lannister is ridiculous.  When Tyrion admits to killing Shae, Tywin's cavalier attitude toward the whole thing disgusts him.  When Tywin uses the w-word again, that's the final straw for Tyrion.  Tywin gets an arrow in the gut, though not a fatal blow.  So Tywin disowns him.  Again.  Tyrion ends the conversation with a fatal shot, leaving Tywin to rot on the toilet.

Varys is impatient to get Tyrion out, in probably the same crate we saw at the beginning of the last season.  Said crate gets hoisted onto a boat bound for Essos, as Varys meanders back to the Red Keep.  Bells ringing in the middle of the night from the castle change his mind, and Varys turns right back around to travel with Tyrion after all.  The bromance continues.

As a choir sings, Arya reaches the sea on her trusty white pony.  Alone.  The captain has no interest in taking her to the Wall.  Not only does the North suck, he wants to go home.  To Braavos.  So, Arya remembers her "lucky" coin.  The captain is amazed at the child with such an iron coin.  He's the perfect gentleman, responding "Valar Dohaeris"  (all men must serve) even offering Arya a cabin of her own, when she repeats the words "Valar Morghulis" (all men die), told to her by Jaqen H'ghar a finale ago.  Arya, on deck and enjoying her first sea voyage, starts out looking back at Westeros.  But she quickly moves forward, so she can see not her past, but her future.

Oh, what a slow burn this season was.  For every catastrophic event of the last third of the "Storm of Swords", there was just as much material NOT from the books, made to fill in gaps in storylines or make book storylines simpler and more direct.  If you feel like Tyrion's trials and wait for his fate took too long, you'd be right- Cersei and Tywin wasted no time getting a guilty verdict for Tyrion.  If you feel like an entire season of waiting for Stannis to do something is too long, you'd be right- he and Melisandre and Ser Davos have wanted to sail north since last season's finale.  If you feel that an entire season of Arya and The Hound meandering through central Westeros is too long- you're an idiot.  That was one of the best plot stretchers ever (they never make to the Bloody Gate before The Hound is attacked and dies from an infected wound- no Brienne matchup).  I did feel like Bran and Jon passing like ships in the night was a bittersweet point worth making- that the Stark children aren't "meant" to re-unite, that they must face their struggles and battles and loves alone, like a direwolf would.

The fights, though long overdue, were each a study of character as well as a way to twist the plot.  Who will forget Oberyn almost fucking killing The Mountain?  Or how Arya got Needle back?  Or The Hound killing three men in a tavern?  Tormund and Alliser Thorne?  Jon against the Mutineer's leader Karl?  Or Jon against Styr, Magnar of the Thenns?   Lastly, the all-or-nothing between Brienne and The Hound, who was just embarrassed at being killed by a woman?

And for book readers:  what of the last scene that should have been?  And where was the election at Castle Black, which was Sam's finest hour?  It's not often I'm disappointed in an episode, but the actual end of the third book needed to be here.  After two seasons of good guys losing, the actual end felt like justice, even if it came by the hand of horrible magic.  My fellow readers, how long into Season 5 will we have to wait for her?

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The Earth Is Where We Make Our Stand - Cosmos - Season 1, Episode 13

How big a universe do you want to live in?  How much do you want to know about the universe?  How many questions are you, as a person, and we, as a society, willing to ask?  And how many answers are we willing to search for?

Tyson doesn't actually answer these questions.  His mission, this entire season, has been to show that answers are out there, for anyone willing to put in the time, and the thought to answering them.  Tyson takes us through one last look at science's history, before ending the season (but hopefully not the series!) by repeating his five basic rules for determining what is true, and telling us to go find our own mysteries to solve.

Tyson asks us to think about a distant star.  With a few planets orbiting.  Now, imagine that one of these planets contained a species capable of abstract thinking.  But, that species thought that they were the center of a universe made specifically for them.  And that a book written in the dawn of their species' writing contained all the answers about the universe.  How seriously would we take this species?  And would we recognize ourselves, only a few centuries ago, in this species?  Tyson points out that, up until a few centuries ago, Europeans didn't even think North or South America existed.  And the Americas' indigenous peoples didn't even wonder if Europe existed.  How could humanity be so ignorant, up until so recently in our species' history?

We start in Alexandria, which supported the most impressive library between about 200 BCE and 391 CE.  The Library at Alexandria was a vast academic resource, famous for raiding ships and other lands for... books.  Which would be copied, and the copies stored in Alexandria.  Supported by the royal family, the Ptolemaic Dynasty of Egypt, the Library at Alexandria supported ancient academics for centuries.

Library fines were in ears of corn

Notable faculty included:  Euclid, enemy of 10th grade geometry students everywhere; Archimedes, all-around best scientist and engineer: Eratosthenes, who first calculated the circumference of the Earth and the tilt of the Earth's axis; the mathematicians Theon and his daughter, Hypatia; and Aristarchus, who proposed that the Sun was at the center of the known universe, with the Earth orbiting it.

So what happened?  Well, we know it was destroyed, in various phases, from multiple wars and conquests, starting in about 48 BCE by Julius Caesar invading.  In about 270 CE, Emperor Aurelian invaded, destroying more and taking some scrolls for himself in Constantinople.  Emperor Theodosius, in 390 CE, may have ordered what little remained destroyed when Christianity became the only legal religion of Rome.  And, ibn al Aas may have finished the job in about 642 CE.  Different parties blame each other, making it extremely difficult to know who did what.  What we do know, is that vast troves of ancient knowledge were lost, and Europe entered the Dark Ages.  Tyson's point is that knowledge can only be preserved if we make an effort to preserve it.

So, what happens when knowledge is preserved for future generations?  Tyson then takes for a hot air balloon ride.  With a man named Victor Hess, in 1912.  At the time, radioactive energy had been discovered, usually emanating from sources such as uranium.  Since these were all rocks on Earth, the theory at the time was that radioactive energy came from the Earth.  So, Hess tested that theory by measuring levels of radioactive energy at different levels in the atmosphere, in a hot air balloon.  


Also discovered the Fifth Dimension singing that balloon song

If radiation was coming from the Earth, the radiation levels would decrease with height.  And they did, until about half a mile up.  After that, the radiation levels rose dramatically, the opposite of what was expected. And Hess measured as far up as about 3 miles, which is about half the elevation of a cruising jet plane. Was radiation coming from our Sun?  It seemed a likely culprit, so Hess conducted his radiation measurements, still in a balloon, during a solar eclipse.  And at night.  Still, a constant stream of radiation.  Earth was awash in cosmic radiation all the time.  But where did it come from?

Stars blowing up.  In the 1930s, Fritz Zwicky, working with his partner, Walter Baade, spent years finding supernova explosions, which is where a star with no fuel reserves has finally collapsed under its weight, and the resulting bounce back out is a giant explosion (remember this episode?).  Zwicky and Baade coined the term supernova, and proposed that supernova explosions were propelling the subatomic particles that made up radioactive energy into space, and called them a source of cosmic rays.  Other scientists made their own proposals, or hypotheses, about where the cosmic rays were coming from.   It took until 2013, for another team of scientists to confirm this, using the Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope.  It's name is pretty much what it does, it examines gamma rays throughout the universe.  We can document bursts of gamma ray energy with it, and even search for one of our universe's great mysteries.

Sometimes, you're even more right than you know

Wait, our universe is still mysterious?  Even more than you can know at this time.  Mass exerts a gravitational field on other masses (remember this episode?).  The closer objects are, and the more massive they are, the more gravity exists between them.  Let's look at our own Solar System for a second.  Mercury, closest to the Sun, orbits the Sun at about 42,000 miles per hour.   Neptune, way out from the Sun, orbits at about 4,900 miles per hour.  So... why doesn't our galaxy, or any other galaxy behave this way?  At the center of our galaxy, as well as most spirals, is a massive black hole (remember this episode?), with a gravitational pull on the stars and gasses of the galaxy, similar to our Sun working on the planets of our Solar System.  By applying the theory of gravity, shouldn't stars near the edges of galaxies be moving more slowly than stars near the center?

That's what Vera Rubin thought.  A pioneer for women in science, she was the first woman allowed to use astronomical instruments the Palomar Observatory in the mid 1960s.  Literally, women were banned from using a space observatory until the 1960s.

To be fair, we leave our girl cooties everywhere.

Rubin spent her early career making galaxy rotation curves, which is a kind of graph.  She started with the Andromeda Galaxy, one of our nearest neighbors.  For her graph, one side has the speed of the star as it orbits around the center of the galaxy.  One side has the star's distance from the galaxy's center.  Rubin, like everybody else, expected a curve showing that speed decreased with distance.  She got a huge surprise;  star speeds stayed pretty constant despite distance from the galaxy's center.  The"A" curve is what she expected.  The "B" curve is what she got.

Call the cops, the Andromeda Galaxy's breaking the law of gravity!

But that's not all Rubin realized.  Stars were orbiting around the galaxy's center so fast, they should have been breaking their orbits and breaking up the galaxy.  But they weren't, and there was no indication they would.  So, where was the gravity necessary to keep a galaxy together?  Rubin repeated her observations for multiple galaxies, with the same results.  We live in a universe of law-breaking galaxies.  Rubin's math indicated that the Andromeda Galaxy's stars needed about 10 times more mass than they currently had in order to stay together.  She stumped everyone.  In order to solve the mystery that she uncovered, scientists had to go back to Zwicky.

Back in the 1930s, Zwicky was studying the Coma Cluster of Galaxies, which is like a mall, but at the scale of galaxies are bunched together.  He went about calculating the mass of the Coma Cluster based on it's gravitational field, and noticed that it was about, oh... 400 fucking times more massive than the detectable stars of the galaxies (based on the luminosity of the galaxies overall) would indicate.  In other words, the stars of the galaxies in the Coma Cluster were only a paltry amount of the matter necessary to generate the gravity required to hold the Cluster together.  He called it Dunkle Materie.  Which does not translate to Dunkin Donuts, but to Dark Matter. Dark matter isn't necessarily black, or even charcoal gray.  It's called dark because it's almost completely undetectable, except for the effect is has on gravity.  And the effect that gravity has on light, called gravitational lensing.  As predicted by Einstein, if a cluster of galaxies is between me and a more distant background galaxy, dark matter will produce enough gravity to distort the light traveling from the distant background galaxy to me, distorting the image too.  Zwicky predicted that Einstein's gravitational lensing was caused by dark matter, and we confirmed it does happen in 1979.   

Dark matter is estimated to make up about 85% of all matter in the known universe.  And we can barely even detect it.  We don't know what particles it's made of.  We can't even confirm it's made of a sub-atomic particle yet.  But see the pattern- someone's way-out-there data has to be found, usually while answering some other question.  The data that surprises and puzzles scientists then gets several proposed explanations, before one emerges, based on decades of collecting data and improved methods of collecting data that supports one explanation (hypothesis) better than any other.  Over time, and repeated testing, that hypothesis graduates into theory.  Like gravity.  Or germs spreading diseases.  Or evolution by natural selection.  Or relativity.  These were all mysteries, with first philosophers, then naturalists, then scientists, trying to just figure out the mystery to be solved in the first place, and then solving it, based on the preservation of knowledge.  

In the 1920s, Edwin Hubble (yes, the telescope is named after him) got his hands on the biggest telescope of the time, the Hooker Telescope at Mount Wilson, California.  And he wanted to test the theory of the time, that the Milky Way, our galaxy, was the only galaxy.  And that all the universe was contained in our galaxy.  Hubble shocked the astronomy world by insisting that he had used supernova explosions' constant brightness to accurately measure the distance to the nebula containing it, and that the nebula was too far away to be in the Milky Way Galaxy.  But, how do supernovae tell us how far away stuff is?

Once again, we go back Zwicky's partner Walter Baade.  Usually, when a star goes supernova, it's one star, and after the explosion of gas that becomes a surrounding nebula, the star shrinks into a neutron star.  These stars, too small to become black holes and too big to become white dwarfs, can and do spin.  Rapidly.  As they rotate, they emit electromagnetic radiation that varies, like a rotating light on a cop car.  The radiation, and resulting light, reaches us as a pulse.  So, we call some neutron stars pulsars. 

But stars can go supernova in pairs.  When a dwarf star and a giant, paired by gravity, start to die, the dwarf starts absorbing gasses from the giant, literally sucking them away.  When the gasses add too much weight for the dwarf star's core to handle, the dwarf literally collapses in on itself and explodes, causing a supernova with a constant, known light output.  We call these 1a Supernovae, but Baade called them standard candles.   Since we know their brightness, and that the light output is constant, we can find and distinguish them easily.  And, knowing the relationship between apparent and actual brightness, based on distance, we can calculate the distance from Earth to all of the universe's type 1a Supernovae.

Hubble identified some 1a Supernovae, and a few Cepheid variable stars, just hanging out in various nebulae of gasses, and calculated their distances from Earth.  Since other scientists had already estimated the size of the Milky Way Galaxy, Hubble could show that the immense distances to these objects, now more clearly seen in his newer telescope, were too far away to be a part of the Milky Way Galaxy.  Our universe got millions of times bigger immediately.  

And Hubble wasn't done.  Working at about the same time as Georges Lemaitre, the two men discovered, during the late 1920s, that the universe's known matter is actually moving away from each other.  Hubble worked with two previous discoveries:  that of the varying luminosity of Cepheid Variable stars, and the red shift.  Short story, the red shift is the Doppler Effect: the transition from high frequency waves to low frequency waves, depending on whether something is moving towards you or away from you.   We usually apply this to sound, especially sirens or train whistles, but it works with light as well.  Basically, objects in space moving away from you will emit lower-frequency wavelengths of light, appearing red (hence, red-shift).  Hubble plotted the possible locations of other galaxies based on their red-shift appearances, and then plotted these locations over time.  And he discovered that the red-shift was increasing.  And the increase was even more pronounced for galaxies that were already farther away.  In other words, he found that the universe is expanding.  Even though he discovered this after Lemaitre, we still call it Hubble's Law. Basically, the universe is expanding, and the farther away objects are from each other, the faster they move away from each other.

Hubble's Law, together with the Big Bang, suggest a universe that expands, reaches a point where expansion is no longer possible, then starts contracting again due to the gravity of both stars and dark matter in the universe.  But in the 1990s, scientists observed that the rate of expansion had actually been speeding up since Hubble first measured it.  Dark matter was fucked up enough, but now there was something out there, also undetectable, that was fucking with dark matter.  Probably out of sheer laziness, it was called dark energy.  In other words, we determined dark matter must exist because things held together even when we didn't expect them to.  We determined dark energy must exist because the universe is expanding faster than the expected gravity of all that dark matter would let it.

Future generations may discover, based on our current attempts to detect both dark matter and energy, some new relationship between the two, or that they're two aspects of something bigger.  I don't know.  And neither, by his own admission, does Tyson.  What we do know, is that we actually don't know that much about our universe.  We've managed to figure out that there are a lot of other mysteries out there.  Yay for us!  And yay for science!  

So, our universe is much bigger than we originally thought.  How do we get out there, beyond our Sun's reach, maybe even get to the closest stars?  For now, we don't.  Our messengers, Voyager 1 and 2, launched in 1977, do that for us.  They've been traveling at 40,000 mph for about 37 years now, and at least one has already crossed out of our Solar System's fence, into the great interstellar gasses beyond.  How do we know?  The sun releases charged particles, circulating throughout the Solar System as "solar wind".  Solar wind creates a kind of force field around our Solar System, usually way past Pluto, called the heliosphere.  It's immensely useful at repelling cosmic rays from nearby supernovae before those gamma rays can hit Earth and mess up life here.  When there's a lot of cosmic ray activity, it can push against the heliosphere.  Depending on how close and powerful a supernova and it's resulting cosmic radiation are, the heliosphere can actually be pushed in, so that Earth is actually outside of it, exposing us to the cosmic rays.  Notice, I said "can be".  It hasn't actually happened for about 2 million years.

Once again, how do we know?  Little rocks lining huge chunks of ocean floors called manganese nodules.  Hidden in these guys are iron isotopes that would have had to come from a supernova.  Yes, we can estimate the history of supernovae in our cosmic neighborhood from rocks on our ocean floors.  Notice, that throughout the season, Tyson has demonstrate how the very small, even sub-atomic, can create phenomena that can be detected light years away.

Back to Voyager 1. Without the protection of our heliosphere, pressure builds up quite a bit past it from instellar gasses moving around outside our Solar System.  Sometime in 2012, Voyager 1 began sending back info from its plasma wave instrument, indicating that the pressure of insterstellar gasses had gone up.  Which means that Voyager 1 is in the great unknown.  Voyager 2 has yet to catch up.

The spacecraft are expected to send information back for about another ten years. After that, they'll stop collecting information and primarily bear it.  To others.  On both Voyager 1 and 2, is a copy of the Voyager Golden Record.  It contains: a stellar map to Earth using some local 14 pulsars (and their identifying frequencies) that can be triangulated from; greetings in 59 human languages, plus a recording of whales saying whatever they say. The record plays a video as well as audio, and we've included graphic instructions for playing it. 

Like Ikea's instructions, it helps to be a genius to get it right the first time.

At the bottom, on the right, are representations of a hydrogen atom, showing the two states of its lone electron switching rotation.  The time interval of this switch is considered the default measure of time for the information presented on the record and how to play the record.  

Voyager 1 gave us one more present:  a view of ourselves, as we look, from Neptune.  In 1990, Carl Sagan convinced NASA to turn the craft's camera around, for one last photo of ourselves.

We hate the way our hair looks in this picture

We are, literally, a Pale Blue Dot.  Sagan, in his 1994 book called Pale Blue Dot, reminded us that our entire history as a planet and species, takes place on what is, essentially, a speck of dust and water in a universe that can't even make us out from outside the Solar System.  Any importance we assign to ourselves is self-assigned.  And the vast interstellar oceans between us and any other intelligent life renders us, essentially, alone.  No one is coming to save humanity from itself.  Sagan:  "The Earth is where we make our stand."  If we want to live here until the Sun goes out, we will have to figure out some way for all of us to live here responsibly.  Or we will perish together.  

Tyson's getting into his end game here.  He reminds us of the rules of science he first taught us in the premiere:
1- Question authority:  remember Nullius in verba?
2- Question yourself:  what are you assuming?  In other words, make sure you know how you came to know what you think you know.  
3- Don't accept something as true because it's what you want to think.  
4- Test ideas with observation and experiment.  Follow the evidence.  It might confuse you for a while, but whatever happens usually leaves a mark that can be found.  Reserve judgement until you've got some evidence.
5- Remember, you could be wrong.  Especially if you skipped any of the steps above.

Is science perfect?  No, and Tyson admits this.  Scientists developed the nuclear bomb.  Scientists told us lead in the air was safe.  Which is why you always go back to the rules above.  Is the science telling us what we want to hear, based on assumptions?  You could be wrong, and need to go back for more observations, then.  Science also has one advantage in the battle to help humanity- it's not owned by anyone.  No one's got a patent on the scientific method.  We can all use it.  When we support science together, it's owned collectively, making scientists accountable to us collectively.  Making science accountable, both to stick to observable truth, and work for the benefit of those supporting it, is the best we've got.  But that best has gotten us out of the Solar System.  That best has produced electrical power and agriculture, enabling our populations to explode.  That best has enabled knowledge to live forever, as long as we're willing to preserve it.

Now, go discover something.

Tyson ends with what we don't know:  what happened (or what existed) before the Big Bang?  Is anything beyond our cosmic horizon?  How did life begin on Earth?  Or any other living planet?  Tyson, standing on the beach he started the season on, reminds us that science, like life is a chain that connects generations.  He stays on the beach while Imagination, powered by science and wonder, fades back into space, drifting through the stars.

Second star to the right, then straight on til morning...

Monday, June 9, 2014

Jon Snow Knows Something Now - Game of Thrones - Season 4, Episode 9

It starts so ominously, for both the wildlings and the Night's Watch.  It is a knock-down, drag-out clash of fire and blood, arrow, sword, huge angry creatures and flaming oil.  The battle doesn't so much end, as dawn comes and the club-kids decide to go home and sleep it off so they can party again the next night.

Mance gets the party started

The episode does a great job of illustrating each stage of the battle. Tormund, Ygritte, and assorted Thenns wait for the warg Thenn to see Mance Rayder's fire so they can coordinate the attacks.  Mance's giants, one riding a fucking wooly fucking mammoth, with puny wildlings carrying ropes alongside the wild beast approach the edge of the wood.  Wildlings pour into the open space beyond the tree line.  As the forces atop the wall engage, Tormund and the Thenns attack Castle Black from behind.  With two forces assaulting Castle Black, it was almost guaranteed to fall.  The Night's Watch beat back both wildling forces, but there's another 99,000 wildlings ready to attack at the next nightfall.  So, when the Night's Watch manages to survive the night with both fronts intact, they're both elated and crestfallen.

Someone call for a tow truck?

Various characters talk about how it sucks they'll be dead.  Sam regrets dying a virgin, and Jon's tongue-tied description of sexual intimacy is long on how you become something else with another person, while Sam is more interested in the size and shape of things.  Maester Aemon tries to remind Sam to worry less about love and more about duty.  Sam tries to tell Pyp how he kept his shit together facing a White Walker- don't overthink.  In fact, don't think.  When facing a horrible enemy, just concentrate on the knife in your hand and your opponent's weak spots.  Silly mistakes plague the Night's Watch all night- dropping an oil barrel, not dropping an oil barrel and it explodes in their faces, drawing arrows when they only needed nocking.  Alliser, like a drill sargent from a army movie, looks disgusted with his soldiers in their first battle, then screams at them, asking if they want to die tonight.  What a relief!  They don't!  Alliser looks pleased that at least they can pretend to not be scared.

Okay, let's take some steps back

There are thrilling parts- a giant shoots an arrow so big and strong it takes out whole fortifications, and throws an unluckly brother over the south side of the wall.   Giants pound into the gate and hook up tow hooks to their mammoth, and the Night's Watch pours flaming oil on the whole operation.  The mammoth stomps off, ass aflame, as burning wildlings are dragged away.  One of the giants goes down from an arrow, inflaming the other to lift up the gate to storm inside.  Ser Alliser decides it's better to go down fighting the losing fight you chose, than let Jon fucking Snow question your leadership.  He's all piss and vinegar, even when dragged away after losing a brawl to Tormund.  I'll give him this- he looks for the biggest asshole and tries to kill it.  Sam, on his way to the elevator, nonchalantly arrows a Thenn.  A fucking Thenn.  Even before that, Sam curses at Pyp until Gilly's let in, then stashes her in the fridge with a speech out of a Clint Eastwood movie and a passionate kiss.  He spends a chunk of the night encouraging Pyp to shoot arrow after arrow, trying to make believe this is just a fun game.  Dolorous Ed unleashes a huge chunk of metal wall death known as the Scythe, rising from broken ice like a monster breaking loose, and barrelling down on wildlings climbing the wall, shattering and scattering the horrified wildlings like ice shards.  The Wall Defends Itself.

Look, I gotta go


Yeah, I got everything wrong, we would'a died anyway...


Like a tow truck that shits- notice the giants compared to the wildlings

There are flaming arrows, nocked, drawn, and loosed repeatedly, flames and slight wooshing sounds alongside steel and screaming.  There's Ygritte spending most of the night angrily shooting crows, and seeming pissed that Jon's not below to kill.  There's craven cowardice, as Janos Slynt loses his shit and starts babbling to himself.  Grenn saves the fight atop by going away, and coming back from behind, to trick Slynt into going down.

Grenn's heroism doesn't end with getting Slynt out of the way; Jon sends him down with five other men to hold the inner gate, as the wildlings try breaching it.  He stands with a bunch of other new recruits, all barely old enough to even be in an army, and together, they recite their vows as an angry giant literally bum-rushes the inner gate.   Even if there were no vows, that thing is coming through the gate, and if they don't stop it, it will definitely kill them.  So, they may as well shout a bit and bring it down if they can. Sure, it's a ten-foot giant running toward them, and he's pissed off.  But they're Shields That Guard The Realms Of Men.  Together. Turns out, they're literally human shieds, and Jon and Sam mourn them the next day, their bloody bodies strewn around the giant they brought down and the partially mangled inner gate.

As Alliser, then Janos, and then Jon go down to defend the south Castle, command is handed down again and again until good ol' Dolorous Ed, pessimist extraordinaire, is in charge.  And he's decided that they should get some fun before they die.  The episode comes off as an expression of how each character approaches violent death.  Little Olly, the tween working the elevator for the evening, goes from paralyzing trauma to hardened warrior.  Alliser curses the whole shitfest and tells his men to fight it, even after being knocked out of the fight himself.  Slynt crawls away in fear.  Pyp and Sam try to make a game of it, at least until Pyp dies in Sam's arms.  Grenn looks death in the eye and tells it he's a shield, even if there's no glory in it for him.  Ed stoically wants to take as many wildlings out with him.  Jon strides confidently into battle, even while wishing the others had listened to him.  This is also about teamwork.  Sam and Pyp work together briefly, and Jon directs the action atop the wall for a while, with Grenn and Ed carrying them out.  Grenn holds his little giant-fighting team together by reminding them that upholding their vows together is what makes them special, and brothers.

Defeating wildlings with his smoldering walk

While Ser Alliser's matchup with Tormund was a good brawl between old warriors, the climax fight of the night is Jon, who comes down when Ser Alliser is out of the fight to re-rally the men, give a key to Sam, and basically be a total bad-ass for about five minutes.  Sam takes the key and releases Ghost, who was born for a fight like this- he gets right into it.  The Thenn leader, Styr, is even more excited to see Jon than Ygritte is.  Ygritte issued a warning at the beginning, that Jon is hers to kill, like a crazy ex-girlfriend.  So Styr is ecstatic to do exactly what Ygritte told him not to, mostly because he seems to really hate Jon for having sex with Ygritte.

Can't we just talk this over?

Styr and Jon duke it out, Styr wielding a combination trident/club thing, and Jon using Longclaw until he loses it in the snow.  Styr loses his club, and resorts to beating Jon senseless, shoving his face into an anvil, and tossing him through a fire.  When Jon recovers from this, Styr shoves him into a wall, and begins choking him.  Jon finds a lucky hammer, and slams it half-way through Styr's head.  The leader of the Thenns collapses, his head half blood, and Jon turns around to find Ygritte with an arrow pointed right at him.  Jon doesn't move. She doesn't kill him.  Relieved, Jon smiles.  Because Ygritte still loves him.  Because he still loves her.  There's a swooshing sound, and Ygritte is hit in the back.  By little Olly, who only nods at Jon.  Jon catches Ygritte before she can hit the ground, and they remind each other that they should never have left the magic cave/bath/spa of love.  Ygritte gets in one last "You know nothing, Jon Snow," before dying.  Like Tony and Maria in West Side Story.

There's....a....place....for.....us.....

Wildlings flee the wall near dawn, and it's not until the sky is lightening that Tormund Giantsbane, arrows sticking out all over him, is brought down, Jon ordering him taken prisoner for questioning.  Despite the constant losses all night, the wildlings attacking from the South are all wiped out except Tormund.  He's dragged away, screaming that he should have killed Jon.  Jon, walking away, still numb with grief for his brothers and Ygritte, wishes Tormund had killed him, too.  Sam, hurrying to tell Gilly that he's safe for now, finds Slynt whimpering and cowering in a corner of the fridge.  Men are variously clearing away bodies, and Ed is telling the men at the top to get ready for the next night's party.

With Ser Alliser who knows where in what state, deliberations are left for Jon and Sam to make.  Sam's hopeful, Jon says they've got maybe two days.  His only plan is to march into the wildling army, somehow get close to Mance Rayder, and kill him.  The Night's Watch was successful, even after Alliser was dragged away and Slynt hid away.  The wildlings, however, will scatter without a leader.  So, Jon will kill the leader, or at least die himself while trying.  Sam hates this plan, but comes up empty with no alternative.  So, they march slowly together through the tunnel, to the outer gate.  They stop along the way to mourn Grenn and his men, and for Jon to promise to come back as hands Sam Longclaw for safe-keeping.  The gate rises, and Jon steps out into the light of a new day, not expecting to see another.

Off to see the wizard

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Why Climb The Mountain? - Cosmos - Season 1, Episode 12

Oh, no.  A whole episode devoted to Climate Change.  And that we're causing it.  As if the right-wing didn't hate Tyson enough.  Plus, plus, the guy ends on a quote from JFK.

Tyson starts on Venus.  Venus is about 30% closer to the Sun than we are, and extremely, ridiculously hot. When the Soviets sent Venera 13 in 1982 to Venus' surface, it lasted about two hours, long enough to take some pictures and send them home via radio waves, and then the thing was fried.

All the way to Venus.  For this picture.

An average of about 900 degrees Fahrenheit.  Imagine more than twice the temperature you bake a potato in.  Clouds of sulphuric acid and carbon dioxide shield the planet from the Sun's light- very little of it actually gets through.  So, despite Venus' location, clouds obstructing the sun's light (and therefore, heat energy) should keep the planet quite cold.  I mean, that's what happens during a volcanic, or nuclear winter.  Why doesn't that happen on Venus?

Ever been in a greenhouse?  Light streams in the windows, hits surfaces and plants.  The plants convert the light energy to sugars and starches they need, but other surfaces, especially the floor, will absorb leftover light, and re-radiate it back out as heat.  Now, close the windows at the top.  Heat will rise due to convection to the top of the greenhouse and.... stay there.  Because the glass acts as a barrier to slow the heat from escaping.  That's why people use them in winter, and vent the fuck out of them in summer. There are several gasses that mimic this:  water vapor, methane, ozone, and... carbon dioxide.  Which Venus has a shitload of.

Venus' atmosphere is about 96% carbon dioxide.  Compare that to Earth's atmosphere, which is about .04% carbon dioxide.   So, yes, limited light gets to the surface of Venus.   Once that light strikes the surface, its energy is absorbed by the planet, converted to heat, and radiated back out into the sky.  Smart people call it  "radiative forcing".  Instead of ultimately re-radiating back out into space, the carbon dioxide of Venus' sucks it up.  Which means that all of that heat stays on Venus, turning it into a sauna.

So, why does Earth have so little CO2 in its atmosphere?  Life.  We have living creatures, plants and algae, that love carbon dioxide.  They absorb it, turn it into whatever they need for survival, (remember that episode?) and exhale whatever is left.  For plants, that is oxygen, which we turn around right back into CO2.  When the plants die, they decompose underground, turning CO2 into deposits of coal, petroleum, or natural gases (Remember?)  For algae, it's sediments, usually as limestone or coral, that are then deposited on ocean floors.  The deposits eventually become coral reefs, or an ocean floor.  Tectonic activity can actually pressure these deposits into huge formations above ground, like the White Cliffs of Dover on Britain's East Coast.

In other words, the Earth has ways of storing carbon dioxide, so it stays out of the atmosphere, keeping our carbon dioxide levels low, around 3 molecules of CO2 for every 10,000 other molecules of gasses in the atmosphere.  This creates a great Goldilocks zone for us:  we have enough that we warm up, but not so much that we get too hot.  We always re-radiate out a significant percentage of the Sun's warmth back into space, like a greenhouse with the top windows open.  In other words, we avoid Venus' fate.  Or do we?

According to NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association, in the mid-1800s, when the Industrial Revolution started with coal, we had a concentration of 285 molecules of CO2 for every 1 million molecules in the atmosphere.  Since then, we've burned even more coal, as even more of our lives became dependent on using it for electricity.  Add petroleum turned to gasoline for cars and trucks, and then additional natural gas as a substitute for coal.  Now, do that for about 160 years.  All that carbon dioxide, stored as fossil fuels, is now released back into the atmosphere.  It took millions of year to store.  But only about 160 years to release.  Our concentration now, as of 2013, was about 395 molecules of CO2 for 1 million molecules.  It's estimated that we haven't had this much CO2 in our atmosphere for 800,000 years.

Wait, how do we know that?  Like Clair Patterson (remember?), we go to Antarctica.  Instead of looking for lead, we look for carbon dioxide.  And we find it.  When snow falls on the continent, it doesn't melt.  It stays frozen, and gets compacted by the next snowfall, which also traps gasses between the snow layers.  These layers, over time, form ice sheets.  By drilling into the ice sheet, and taking out cores, we can find the gas pockets and analyze them.  As you go down through successive layers, that like going back in time.  The deeper we drill, the father back in time we go.  By plotting concentrations of gasses over layers of ice sheets, we can see trends over time.  And while the CO2 level has varied over 800,000 years, it has undoubtedly gone up dramatically since the Industrial Revolution and the burning of fossil fuels began.

Okay, just so we get it:

This is CO2 concentrations since the mid-1700s:
Source:  EPA

This is global temps since the 1880s:


From NASA/Goddard Space Institute

Just for shits and giggles, these are estimated CO2 levels over the last 400,000 fucking years:
Combined Ice Core records + Mauna Loa observations

In other words, there's a whole shitload of extra CO2 up there.  Are we sure we did it? 

Yes, we're sure.  Like, 99.9% sure.  How are we sure it wasn't.... say.... volcanoes?  They still erupt here, and they do spew a ton of crap with it's own chemical signature, distinct from the chemical signatures of fossil fuel emissions.    By isolating the chemical signatures, we can compare emissions.  Volcanoes are estimated to spew 200-500 million tons of carbon dioxide a year.  Us?  We dump about 30 billion tons of carbon dioxide.  About every year.  In other words, we spew about 60-150 times as much carbon dioxide into the air as volcanoes.  Every.  Fucking.  Year.  And, unlike volcanoes, our emissions have fewer and fewer smokestacks belching out sun-blocking particles.  So, we don't produce a temporary fossil-fuel winter before our warming.  We warm up right away.

Is it the Sun?  It seems the likeliest culprit.  After all, the Sun started this whole mess in the first place sending photons of light our way.   Notice, this hypothesis doesn't address the extra amount of CO2 in the atmosphere at all.  It just acknowledges that we're getting warmer but not because of CO2.  But scientists don't buy it.  The Sun has an 11-year cycle, in which, yes, there's some temperature variation.  But 11-year cycles of warmer/cooler don't explain a steady, 130 year climb up.

Scientists have been pointing out the consequences of increasing CO2 levels since 1896, when Svante Arrhenius estimated that doubling then-CO2 levels would cause polar ice to melt.

It's a real page turner

In 1938, Guy Callendar became the first scientist to demonstrate that worldwide temperatures were rising.
Carl Sagan wrote about in in 1980s Cosmos.  It's been the subject of government hearings.  Articles.  Reports by every government, including the United Nations.  Over and over again, we've been told to expect temps to change if we keep dumping CO2 in the atmosphere.  And yet, we keep doing it.  With no end in sight.

Tyson also spends a little time demonstrating why climate can be studied and modeled, when weather can only be predicted a day or so in advance.  Weather, he shows, is like a dog that you're walking on a leash.  The dog's unpredictable movements are weather variations.  But the dog's path, tracked over time, follows a pattern marked by the person walking the dog.  Climate is really the study of past weather variations over huge timescales, which gives us patterns.  Patterns we can use to model future climate.

Yes, weather is blue and climate is hot pink

Tyson spends no time on the denial-of-climate-change industry.  So, neither will I.  But you can go look for yourself.  He also spends very little time on the consequences of increasing heat, except on one of the worst consequences:  melting permafrost, which is basically frozen bog.  Up in Alaska, there's a ton of basically frozen compost, with a ton of trapped methane.  Go back to the beginning of the recap.  Notice methane mentioned anywhere?  Yep, it too is a greenhouse gas.  It traps ridiculously more heat than CO2.  Which means that releasing it from melted permafrost is like that scene from Ferris Bueller's Day Off when Cameron kicks the car repeatedly, and the car crashes into a ravine below.

Hint: the car is our climate.

Instead, Tyson wants to talk solutions.  Notably, solar power, which Augustin Mouchot debuted at Paris' 1878 World Expo.  He wowed the crowds, and the judges, by making ice from concentrating the sun's power and running a motor with it. In 1913, Frank Shuman demonstrated the first solar power station in Maadi, Egypt.  It was originally to provide sorely-needed irrigation in deserts, but WW1 put the kabosh on it.  Also deadly to solar power:  the cheapness of gas and coal.  Or at least, they seem cheap.  Until we get the real bill. Tyson also briefly mentions wind power.  It can be offshore, saving land, and doesn't require sunlight.

So, what's holding us back?  Tyson reminds us that we have the know-how to solve our problems.  What we don't have is the will.  Tyson ends by comparing our need to develop fuels that don't ruin our climate with our conversion of the rockets necessary for launching nuclear warheads into the science of getting people to the Moon.  Getting to the moon took about eight years.  It was a massive project that launched us into Space, and taught us that we could learn so much more than what's on the Moon.  Tyson ends by letting JFK inspire us with his declaration of landing on the Moon by the end of the 1960s, as we pan out on a city of the future, covered in roof gardens.  

Because it is hard

Monday, June 2, 2014

Your Borrowed Time Is Up - Game of Thrones - Season 4, Episode 8

Impending Doom, emphasized by death all around.  Death drips from floorboards above.  It oozes and spreads from a crushed brain on stone tiles.  It comes three days before your big pay day.  The best you can do is laugh at Death's cruel sense of humor, and maneuver your way to temporary safety.

One power couple painfully breaks up as another gently forms, in and around Meereen.  Unsullied soldiers are bathing, relaxing in a sheltered stream.  Conveniently visible, some local ladies are also washing themselves and their clothes, including a lovely Missandhei.  Grey Worm, while enjoying a cool bath, watches her.  When Missandhei sees and notices him, she's startled for a moment, then stands so he can see her.  Then, she changes her mind and covers herself.   With no masters to control them, Missandhei seems totally unsure of what to do, or even what she wants.  Dany is limited help to her, as neither of them are even sure if Grey Worm still has his "pillar".  The whole conversation between them, with Dany trying to understand if Missandhei likes Grey Worm when Missandhei doesn't know herself, sounds like the kind of "birds and bees" talk mothers and daughters had in 1950.  Dany talks of naked bodies making love under the stars; Missandhei just seems uncomfortable talking about anyone's body.  Dany wants to advise Missandhei, but Missandhei doesn't even know what about the whole incident bothers her.

When Grey Worm, disappointed in himself, approaches Missandhei later in the throne room, the two are alone.  He apologizes immediately, and Missandhei calmly tries to reassure him that she's not offended.   But, her curiosity gets the better of her, and she tries expressing sympathy to Grey Worm, for the mutilation he suffered from the Masters of Astapor.  Grey Worm reminds Missandhei that every injustice he endured led, eventually, to revenge against his masters and freedom for himself.  And the chance to know her as a free man.  Grey Worm is not a man given to regrets.  His life is suddenly worth living, and by seeing his suffering as a story that ends with his dignity, feels bound to respect Missandhei's dignity as well.

Ser Barristan gets a visit from a little bird, handing off a scroll to him before he scurries off, leaving Ser Barristan with only the indentation on the sealing wax- that of a hand.  As in, Hand of the King.  What he reads inside leads him to Ser Jorah, pondering crossing the Narrow Sea for King's Landing.  Until, that is, Barristan confronts him with his new information.  Ser Jorah wants to know why he's being confronted by Ser Barristan alone, who wanted to prepare him for the inevitable.  Ser Jorah just wants to explain the whole thing to Dany, alone. Ser Barristan shoots that down, demanding that he never be alone with Dany again.  Uh. Oh.  Looks like someone's past spying is out.  Ser Jorah look resigned for the worst anyone can dish out, as he proceeds to Dany's throne room.  She's guarded by both Ser Barristan and Grey Worm, and Missandhei stands off to the side.  So, all her closest advisors will see Ser Jorah's humiliation.

Trouble in the Principal's Office!

Dany, wearing a necklace originally from Khal Drogo, summarizes the contents, which is Robert Baratheon's original pardon from Season 1, re-delivered somehow to Meereen.  At first, Ser Jorah counsels Dany to examine the motives of whoever sent it.  She's more interested in his motives in obtaining a pardon from the Usurper in the first place.  Ser Jorah finally admits the full extent of his sending sensitive information to Varys, and therefore, Robert Baratheon.  Dany is stricken to realize that it was Ser Jorah's information that led to an attempt on her life, to kill her and her fetus.  She stays calm, but is clearly just now realizing how she's been followed around by someone so treasonous.  Ser Jorah was her rock, her only reliable help, for so long.  Now, he turns out to be even more conniving than her maid from Season 2.  Ser Jorah tries to reassure Dany that he's been faithful and in love with her since.  She can't trust him.  She won't let him address her, especially not with the affectionate "Khaleesi"  he uses to remind her of how long he's served her.  She shakes a little as she banishes him.  He leaves Meereen by sundown, looking back toward the tower she lives in, so far from her now.  Cast off,  to the unknown.

Molestown, the last village before a short trip to the Wall, is busy tonight.  A few Brothers of the Night's Watch have snuck down to enjoy an evening of gastric music-making.  The whores are sad and decrepit, clothed more in rags than clothes, and happy to get as drunk as the customers.  One particularly articulate belcher turns out to be a mean drunk as she berates Gilly, busy cleaning sheets, for Gilly's crying baby.  Gilly tries to passively submit to her, but won't listen to her once she starts hearing owl hoots outside.  They remind her of something else, though.  The next thing we see is a man staring into his own reflection from a well, joined by Tormund Giantsbane and the Magnar of Thenn, who immediately get to slitting throats throughout the dark town.  As they proceed through the pitiful excuse for a town, similar to the massacre in 28 Days of Night, the blood flows.  Decrepit whores and their customers are brutally hacked down by bloodthirsty wildlings.  Ygritte, especially, can only angrily storm every inch of the brothel, and dish out a bloody death to Ms. Mean Drunk.  Ygritte only stops when confronted with killing a baby.  Does she see that Gilly is a wildling, not unlike herself?  Can she just not kill a baby?  Whatever the reason, she makes a silent deal with Gilly.  Stay quiet, and you'll live.  She leaves Gilly to watch blood drip from the ceiling above, a grisly reminder of what could happen.  Gilly keeps her baby quiet now.

Jon Snow and his buddies are decimated by the news.  Three of their Brothers are dead, mostly because they stupidly disobeyed orders.  Sam is overcome; he sent Gilly to Molestown, promising her it was safe for her there.  He might just as well kept her at Castle Black.  The others remind Sam that Gilly's gotten this far in one piece.  Sam decides to be hopeful as Jon and the others determine that there are 102 Brothers against 100,000 wildlings.  Oh, and did we mention Mance Rayder's got giants?  The Brothers share a drink, promising that the last one alive will burn the bodies to prevent any more Others from walking.  At this point, it's the best they can hope for.

While those we want to live wait for death, someone we'd all like to see dead, is about to get a field day of blood and gore.  Ramsay is preparing to take Moat Cailin, a major fortress and gateway to the North, for his father, Roose Bolton.  Moat Cailin is currently being held by some nasty Ironborn, benefiting from Moat Cailin's easy defendability and stubbornly holding up Roose's plans for domination.  Ramsay explains to Reek that the Ironborn, like the Kraken, can only survive in the sea.  So, really, they're doing the Ironborn a favor.

Looks easy.

Wait, now I AMTheon?

Reek doesn't look too optimistic as Ramsay gives him his final instructions for pretending to be someone beaten out of Reek.  Reek rides, white flag flying in the breeze, through a field of dead killed horribly.  The show tends to focus on the violence towards the women, who tend to be unarmed and raped before dying.  The scene is a gruesome reminder that violence comes for both sexes, and men don't get easy, quick deaths either.  Reek looks like a weak imitation of Theon, dressed up, carrying a sword he'll never use.  He has none of Theon's old, swaggering, desperate desire to prove himself.  Instead, he stammers through the words Ramsay gave him.  They don't work;  the Ironborn commander, sick as his men and spitting up blood, is determined to die defending the ugliest shit hole of a castle seen to date.   He's about to turn Theon away, when one of his own men kills him from behind, and takes Theon's deal.  We see the poor man next, impaled and flayed, the bones of his chest gorily exposed.  He seems to be calmly smiling, despite the painful bloody death he and all the other red, glistening hunks of meat in the courtyard endured.  Ramsay explains to a bewildered Reek that he couldn't let the family's enemies live.  Reek, still dressed as Theon, won't disagree.

Who knows.  Maybe he liked it.

When Roose and Ramsay meet each other's armies, on some field in the middle of nowhere, Roose takes Ramsay off for a short walk.  From there, Roose gets all sentimental as he demonstrates just how much land the North has.  Look at a map of Westeros.  It's about the same size as the other regions of Westeros combined, like putting Alaska next to the Eastern United States.  Roose is ecstatic about gaining that much power and territory; he gives Ramsay the legitimacy he promised.  He promises Ramsay that the North will be his someday.  Roose, knowing full well how psychotic his son is, just made him a future Warden of the North.  With Roose gaining an heir, will he still care about his wife?  Or, will Lady Walda find herself being chased by hungry dogs?

Littlefinger faces two Lords and a Lady of the Vale.  When the mother of the current child-Lord dies, I suppose somebody should just make sure it wasn't foul play.  The tribunal doesn't really believe anything he says.  The families of the Vale have a long history of distrusting outsiders, and no one really likes Littlefinger anyway.  He's getting nowhere trying to earn their trust.  And they've been clever enough to line up his "niece's" testimony in advance.  Sansa walks in, and one is reminded of Shae's entry into Tyrion's trial.  Littlefinger doesn't look devastated or heartbroken as Tyrion did;  does he know something the tribunal doesn't?  Sansa starts out courageously enough, telling the tribunal that Littlefinger has told them a great lie.  She then truly introduces herself, letting them in on the secret of her real identity, Sansa Stark.  She cries a little as she recounts her ordeal in King's Landing, and the tribunal, hating Lannisters anyway, is instantly sympathetic.  Sansa proves she knows one of them already, an older lord who previously brought his son north for a place in the Night's Watch.  Note:  Ned Stark, before he was Lord of the Winterfell, was raised here, in the Eyrie, by the prior Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn (the husband Lysa secretly murdered).  The families of the Vale, while not getting involved in the recent war, were sympathetic to the Stark family and immediately promise Sansa the Vale's protection.  She's relieved, and then tells them that Littlefinger has acted to protect her, when no one else would or could.  She's the most convincing character witness ever, but we know she can't really mean most of what she says.  She knows Littlefinger will kill even allies.

Sansa, however, confirms all Littlefinger's been telling the tribunal.  Lysa mistook an innocent peck on the cheek for a kiss;  Lysa lost her senses, and attacked Sansa, and then leaped out the Moon Door, mad with grief and jealousy.  The tribunal, well aware of Lysa's oddities and instability, has no trouble believing a tearful Sansa.  The Lady actually gets up and gives her a hug, positioning Sansa so she faces Littlefinger.  Sansa, with her eyes, makes it clear that Littlefinger owes her.  Big time.

Littlefinger gracefully accepts all apologies, and launches right into ruling the Vale by proposing that Robyn tour his holdings in the Vale.  His audience is hesitant, thinking Robyn to weak.  Littlefinger tells them that being called to his duties will strengthen him.  After seeing his guests out, Littlefinger pays a visit to a lone Sansa, calmly sewing after helping Littlefinger get away with killing her aunt.  Proving that Littlefinger didn't really know what Sansa was going to say, he asks why she lied.  Sansa, not missing a stitch, and not looking like she's even interested in conversation, tells Littlefinger that she currently thinks her chances of survival are better with him, than without him.  She should be scared of Littlefinger.  She probably knows that (and in the book, she is).  But, here, she calmly tells Littlefinger that she knows what he wants, without naming it.  We're reminded of early in the season when Littlefinger responded "Everything", but it's left unsaid that Littlefinger's desires may be more earthly than he lets on.  Whatever he wants, Sansa thinks that's the reason he'll keep her alive.  For now.

Don't mind me, I'm just sewing

Many people will go on about this battle, or that fight scene.  But Sansa's reversal from captive, to grateful niece, to accomplice with Littlefinger is, maybe, the biggest surprise of the season.  Instead of hope, she's building what protection she can based on tearful lies.

Littlefinger is later leading little Lord Robyn out, bucking him up for his new journey, when they are joined by the last of the party.  Sansa has a new dress, adorned with feathers and creepy black jewelry.  Her hair is dyed brown, perfect for concealing her identity, as she re-invents herself for Littlefinger's deception.  He's pleased.  Does he see a future where they play the Game of Thrones together?

Like Pretty Woman except she gets a makeover to creepy

Life just gets crueler and crueler for The Hound.  Wanted by the King, plagued by a neck bite, he and Arya finally make the last few steps to the Bloody Gate, almost seeming to enjoy their last few moments together.  It seems The Hound's parting advice is to be happy when your enemies die, even if you didn't do the killing.  They stop only to introduce themselves, with The Hound using Arya's real name for the first time in months.  Arya looks like she's about to get through that gate and meet her aunt.  But the guard has to inform them that Lady Lysa died.  Like, right before they arrived.  The Hound realizes he's not getting paid;  Arya can only laugh, as if she's Pippi-fucking Longstocking.

Actually, this is NOT irony.  Just coincidence.

Our favorite jail bird ever awaits his next trial, Jaime sitting by his side.  Tyrion recites all the different names for killing various relatives, and the two determine there's no word for killing your cousin.  Maybe, if Tyrion lives, he'll spend some time devising the word.  Together, they muse on their slow, mentally challenged cousin, Orson.  Orson was obsessed will killing beetles, and the sound they made as he crunched their bodies into goo.  All day.  Every day.  Beetle after fucking beetle.  And, when younger, Tyrion was obsessed with understanding Cousin Orson's relentless beetle genocide.  Jaime reminds him that death is all around in Westeros, and much more cruel than the quick death Orson gave those beetles.  Tyrion replies with a rant of just how much it plagued him, so much senseless death of innocent creatures.  To illustrate, he picks up some unidentified insect from his prison floor.  As he muses over the attempts he made to understand Orson, he carefully inspects his little friend, then puts him back down, unharmed.  Orson was kicked in the chest by a mule, releasing him from life and saving beetles everywhere.  Both men accept that they'll never know what drove Orson to such killing, as an ominous bell tolls.  Jaime gets up to leave Tyrion, who is escorted into the arena.  Tyrion, even with death coming closer and closer, either can't resist showing how clever and witty he is, or he wants to remind Jaime that even if he's dead, Jaime needs to remember a knight's duty to protect the weak.

The prelude to the fight is partly Tyrion telling Oberyn not to drink, and Ellaria conquering her fear of Oberyn's fight enough to give him a kiss worth dying for.  The Mountain, clad in armor, easily stands 12 inches higher than Oberyn, and is built like a bull on two legs.  Oberyn doesn't even bother with armor, and reminds Ellaria that he's survived fighting pits in Essos.  He knows how to fight to the death.  He's ready to kill The Mountain That Rides.  He's excited and totally confident.

Really, Oberyn, don't die.  I want to see you in at least ten more episodes.

And he comes out strutting his stuff, wooden spear ending in a huge steel blade.  Still, the Mountain's sword is about half the length of the spear, and looks like it could chop a tree down.  Oberyn, the Red Viper of Dorne, is unimpressed.  He and The Mountain dance around a bit.  The Mountain tries to land what would be crippling blows, but The Red Viper is too quick and agile, and his one hit only stuns The Viper.  The Red Viper gets right back up and quickly gains the upper hand, which Cersei watches with no emotion. Jaime, on the other hand, watches the Red Viper land blow after blow like a hopeful Mets' fan.

Like Hulk Hogan fighting Brian Boitano

The Mountain's been used to being invincible, and inspiring fear.  But The Red Viper only repeats a list of charges that he wants the Mountain to cop to:  You raped my sister.  You killed her children.  You murdered her.  The Mountain has no response, even as the Red Viper's spear finds the weak links in his armor.  The Red Viper makes one last leap, landing his spear cleanly in The Mountain's gut.  Cersei betrays her first anger;  Jaime looks like it's 1986 and Darryl Strawberry is pitching;  Tyrion looks vaguely hopeful.



The Red Viper is so confident, that he removes his spear, prolonging The Mountain's agony, demanding that The Mountain name who gave him the order to kill his sister and those children.  Oberyn is screaming now, and only the sight of his relieved Ellaria can distract him.  Which is all The Mountain needs.  With his last strength, The Mountain grabs The Red Viper's ankle, spinning him onto the ground and mounting him.  As he presses his bare thumbs into Oberyn's eyes, blood flowing from them, The Mountain passionately boasts of killing Ellia Martell, raping her, and killing her children, and then literally crushes the rest of Oberyn's skull with his fucking thumbs.  The Mountain collapses next to his latest victim as blood and brain matter gush all over the stones.  Cersei looks gleeful as Ellaria Sand can only scream hysterically, hands at her neck in horror and pain.  Jaime looks like he's watching Mo Vaughan jog.  Tywin declares Tyrion guilty.

Today's lesson, boys and girls.

The screen goes black in silence, not unlike after the Red Wedding.  As soft, dramatic music plays an elegy for Oberyn Martell, Red Viper of Dorne, consider that Tywin is in more trouble than before.  Sure, he gets to kill Tyrion now. But anyone who thinks Dorne will take this sitting down is an idiot.  Just when Tywin has united most of Westeros, he might very well lose Dorne.

Besides reminding us of Inigo Montoya way too much, we'll miss Oberyn.  One of the few characters to like in King's Landing, Oberyn and Tyrion could have been a much needed Lannister-Martell alliance of smarts and bravery.  Oberyn, one of the few men willing to call out misogyny openly on the show.  He came looking for revenge, and was only deprived it by a moment's distraction.