63QUJ5
Also known as the Wow! signal, today's title is a strong narrowband signal that was detected in 1977 by a radio telescope in Ohio for seventy-two seconds. The researcher working on the SETI -- that's Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence -- project at the time noted what it most likely represented, circled "63QUJ5" in red marker and to the left of an endless procession of spaces and single digits designating the background noise of outer space wrote "Wow!"
But that signal -- if that's indeed what it is -- hasn't been found since. Wasn't it Calvin (thanks; the six-year-old from Calvin and Hobbes, not the sixteenth-century theologian) who said that the surest sign of intelligent life [elsewhere] in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us? After thirty-eight years attendant with the increase in biological and technological distinctiveness (I AM NOT A BORG!) we've had you would think we'd detect it again ... but no.
Human beings haven't stepped foot on the moon since 1972, and various reasons have been offered why. Naturally, fiction writers come up with their own ideas and in Johan Harstad's novel 172 Hours On The Moon (ISBN 9780316182881) science fiction and horror blend a few years in our future when NASA decides to reignite public interest in the space program by holding a worldwide lottery for three kids, ages 14-18, to go to the moon with professional astronauts for the stated time.
One week and four hours, in case you want to know. And need I tell you with the descriptor "science fiction and horror" that not everything goes as plan. Put simply, there is -- at least, within the context of this novel -- a reason the United States (yes, Virginia, so far everyone who's stepped on the moon has been American) elected to not go back. I'm thinking Alien meets The Andromeda Strain with self-preservation as the first law of nature (thanks, Frogman) tossed in.
On my nephew Mathew's eighteenth birthday today (he's Allan and Lesa's oldest son), I find myself feeling the burn of him and millions of others being able to vote in their first Presidential election next year. Based on the turnout at last night's Republican debate in California ... well, I didn't watch it and need more input (thanks, Number Five) before I can say this person's electable and that person isn't. Who else feels the debates are a distraction from what's really going on?
The fewer words you use in writing, the less you have to fuss with translation. And reading Owly: The Way Home & The Bittersweet Summer written and illustrated by Andy Runyon (ISBN 1891830627) with Owly the owl finally getting his attempts to help understood -- at least, this is how I read it -- reminds me that simple stories are the best stories. And having a worm and hummingbirds as friends don't hurt either, because you make up for each others' deficiencies.
The Three Musketeers in animal form, without all the bloodletting. Hey, in a universe that's growing increasingly complex we NEED simplicity. And whether my dream this morning of being in the top three on MasterChef alongside Derrick and Stephen this season means anything more than figuring the mechanics of being on a "reality TV show" (during the season, I apparently didn't cook well enough to be exempt yet not bad enough to be kicked off, close to my real-life culinary skill).
Hey, at least I'm still smarter than my phone!
David
But that signal -- if that's indeed what it is -- hasn't been found since. Wasn't it Calvin (thanks; the six-year-old from Calvin and Hobbes, not the sixteenth-century theologian) who said that the surest sign of intelligent life [elsewhere] in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us? After thirty-eight years attendant with the increase in biological and technological distinctiveness (I AM NOT A BORG!) we've had you would think we'd detect it again ... but no.
Human beings haven't stepped foot on the moon since 1972, and various reasons have been offered why. Naturally, fiction writers come up with their own ideas and in Johan Harstad's novel 172 Hours On The Moon (ISBN 9780316182881) science fiction and horror blend a few years in our future when NASA decides to reignite public interest in the space program by holding a worldwide lottery for three kids, ages 14-18, to go to the moon with professional astronauts for the stated time.
One week and four hours, in case you want to know. And need I tell you with the descriptor "science fiction and horror" that not everything goes as plan. Put simply, there is -- at least, within the context of this novel -- a reason the United States (yes, Virginia, so far everyone who's stepped on the moon has been American) elected to not go back. I'm thinking Alien meets The Andromeda Strain with self-preservation as the first law of nature (thanks, Frogman) tossed in.
On my nephew Mathew's eighteenth birthday today (he's Allan and Lesa's oldest son), I find myself feeling the burn of him and millions of others being able to vote in their first Presidential election next year. Based on the turnout at last night's Republican debate in California ... well, I didn't watch it and need more input (thanks, Number Five) before I can say this person's electable and that person isn't. Who else feels the debates are a distraction from what's really going on?
The fewer words you use in writing, the less you have to fuss with translation. And reading Owly: The Way Home & The Bittersweet Summer written and illustrated by Andy Runyon (ISBN 1891830627) with Owly the owl finally getting his attempts to help understood -- at least, this is how I read it -- reminds me that simple stories are the best stories. And having a worm and hummingbirds as friends don't hurt either, because you make up for each others' deficiencies.
The Three Musketeers in animal form, without all the bloodletting. Hey, in a universe that's growing increasingly complex we NEED simplicity. And whether my dream this morning of being in the top three on MasterChef alongside Derrick and Stephen this season means anything more than figuring the mechanics of being on a "reality TV show" (during the season, I apparently didn't cook well enough to be exempt yet not bad enough to be kicked off, close to my real-life culinary skill).
Hey, at least I'm still smarter than my phone!
David
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