Jack is Darwin's homeboy!

Help us raise $2,000 to bring Young Australian Skeptic Jack Scanlan to the world’s premiere skeptical gathering, The Amazing Meeting in Las Vegas, Nevada, this July!

Why Jack? Although he is only 19 years old, Jack is a tireless skeptical activist who has devoted his free time to debating proponents of intelligent design and creationism on his blog, http://www.naontiotami.com/, while also working with the Young Australian Skeptics to get more young people interested in skepticism. In addition to his activism, Jack also studies genetics at university, and plays a mean jazz trumpet. Ok, maybe not mean really, a quite FRIENDLY trumpet. A skeptical trumpet!!!

At The Amazing Meeting, Jack will not only learn more tools for science/skeptic outreach , but also be exposed to the largest group of skeptics assembled in the world!!! Many people have reported that The Amazing Meeting quite literally changes their life, and Jack is the perfect young person take this opportunity and use it to get MORE young people involved.

We have already raised $500 $845 $1,300 of the $2,000 needed to fly Jack from Melbourne, Australia to Las Vegas, so that leaves just $700 left!! Please donate, and encourage friends to do the same. Because as a very wise person once said “I believe the children are the future, teach them well, and let them lead the way” – Sexual Chocolate (Eddie Murphy in Coming to America.)

To donate, click on the link above, or the picture below!!!

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This post, And A Trumpet Shall Lead Them!, originally appeared on She Thought on May 23, 2011.
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Today is the fifth of May date of the quite famous Mexican celebration of the Cinco de Mayo. I think that, at this point, many Americans are aware that Cinco de Mayo is actually not the Mexican day of independence (that falls on September 16^th) but it might not be clear what the celebration is actually about.

Well; Cinco de Mayo celebrates the Mexican victory at the battle of Puebla. What happened is that in 1861, ruined after a series of disastrous wars, the Mexican government, lead by Benito Juárez, had decided to settle paying the debt it owes to various European powers. Napoleon III, nephew of the original, had managed to convert his presidential title into an imperial title at this point, and he saw in the Mexican crisis the opportunity to expend the French influence in the Americas. The French landed in Campeche in Mars 1862 and started to move toward the capital. They were almost there when they passed through the town of Puebla which was protected by two forts: Fort Guadalupe and Fort Lorento.

The French troops, about 8,000 in total and lead by the Marquis Charles de Lorencez, decided to engage the Mexicans, about 4,000 but were pushed back after a day of battle on the 5^th. It was a clear Mexican victory, one that would at the time, greatly helps establishing a sense of patriot pride into the Mexican people.

It was also a short lived victory as, in September, further French reinforcements were delivered, culminating in the capture of Puebla and of Mexico city in the following year, followed by the overthrowing of Juárez and the installation of Maximilian I as emperor of Mexico.

The U.S, concerned about the influence of the then powerful France on their own turf, would never recognize the Maximilian government. Later, in 1867, the American civil war behind them, their support would become more active. At the same time, the France, concerned in turn with the Prussian threat on their own country (that would ultimately culminate into the war of 1870) started retiring troops from Mexico, leading to a second revolution and the return of Juárez into power.

So, that’s the history of the battle of Puebla and of the Cinco de Mayo. It is worth noting that, as mentioned, this victory was actually well received in the U.S and lead to a final victory where the two countries, Mexico and the U.S were essentially allies. This helps understanding why it is so well recognized as in the U.S.

To conclude I would like to mention that when I was in Mexico, I used to live in the “calle Cinco de Mayo” which, being franchute was a bit amusing.

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This post, Feliz Cinco de Mayo a todos!, originally appeared on She Thought on May 5, 2011.
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Alpine lake

I spent my formative years living in lush, wet coniferous forests.  The ponderosas, fir, spruces, and pines were among my only friends.  They were quiet sentinels who kept me company while I read and anchored the corners of my imaginary houses. They sang moaning songs with the wind and popped and crackled in freezing winter.  Their pyramid tops framed night windows into space.  The few cedars’ peeling bark blazed desert red along dark forest trails.  Summer’s heat released a treasure: their scent.  This is like a drug to me.  It’s a significant element of my love of nature.  Ponderosa is my favorite because it reminds me of vanilla beans.

The moist forests I grew up in fed a healthy (and tasty!) understory filled with thimbleberries, huckleberries, rosehips, wild strawberries, wild raspberries, glacier lilies, mosses and ferns. One of my favorite plants is goat’s beard moss (actually a lichen) . It grows like ornaments in long tendrils which somehow make me feel the weight of the forest’s age.  Beargrass fills the meadows.  I have seen numerous grizzlies, a couple of back bears, and large groups of bald eagles feeding on spawning trout in this forest.  It was here that I have had my only (hopefully) close encounter with mountain lions.

Where I live now it is higher in elevation, drier and much sunnier.  The bright  glades have a lot of lodgepole pines.  The understory is thinner and you can see long distances through the trees. Tridentate sages crowd Indian paintbrushes in the open spaces.

My favorite trees here are the krummholz. These are shorter, often bent pines that tend to grow in sparse clusters punctuating the terrain near 10,000 feet.  Krummhotz stands provide sheltered lunch spots, cozy Perseid-watching backrests, and privacy for diaper changes, nursing, and naps. They’re perfect as a tenting windbreak and/or snowfence.

Lewis Lake Trail

Just southeast of the Lewis Lake trail is a cluster we call the Troll Cave.  The Little Anthropologists and I wait every year into July for the snow to melt so we can visit.  My son and his friends named this place when they were two–before they could hike all the way under their own power.  In early July, the pasqueflowers are just emerging and brightening the shade.   If we time our annual trek well, we hike in before the road is open and have the gorgeous alpine valley all to ourselves.  We’ve seen woodpeckers and jays in the trees.  We often see moose and raptors, and occasionally elk.  Marmots watch us pass their rockfall and hurt our ears with their calls.

Entrance to the Troll Cave

Over the last six or seven years we’ve watched mountain pine beetles kill our beloved forests.

Crimson trees

First a few needles turn red, then whole branches, then  all of the needles blaze red.

This tree looks healthy from a distance

But it's not

This branch is diseased

As the trees dry, the needles fall leaving skeletons behind.  These dead trees become unstable and they’re very vulnerable to blow-down and wildfire.  It seems to me that the whole ecosystem in these dying stands declines in health and diversity.  It feels dry and hot even in cool weather. The healthy pine scent is gone, and I see fewer animals.

This tree has dropped nearly all its needles

Fire hazard

Three years ago our favorite campground near three wilderness areas closed to the public.  Hundreds of acres of trees had died and become a hazard.  This area was thick with moose, elk, raptors, cranes, woodpeckers, and blue herons. I’m hearing more and more accounts of forested public lands all over the region closing or restricting access because of the danger.This current infestation is occurring all over the Rocky Mountain region.  In the last year I have personally seen large swaths of dead and dying trees from Alberta, Canada all the way into southern Colorado.  It’s hard to adequately represent the scope of the problem unless you’ve seen it first-hand.  Locally, we’ve watched the red trees’ relentless march from lower elevations up into the high places near the Troll Cave.

On one hand, evolutionary change in tangible real-time is intellectually interesting.  However, I have a hard time embracing this change because while the beetles are thriving, entire ecosystems and ecological niches are facing local extinctions.

Forestry friends tell me that some forests are beginning to regenerate: aspen are moving in and replacing coniferous trees where there is adequate moisture, and coniferous saplings are beginning to grow in devastated areas.  Unfortunately as long as the infestation continues apace, these young pine trees are unlikely to survive to maturity.  The ancient forests I grew up in are already dying, and my own children may only have vague memories of healthy evergreen forests.

The scientific consensus is that although multiple factors contribute to the current outbreak, warmer winters are a significant contributor.  Extreme cold over several days to weeks is required to control the beetle populations, and that just hasn’t been happening in the last decade or so.

From the Coloradan:

“A report, “Climate Change and Bark Beetles of the Western United States and Canada: Direct and Indirect Effects,” in the September issue of the journal BioScience said the increasing woodland temperatures might allow beetles to survive the winter in ways not often seen before the current outbreak.

Report co-author Jose Negron, an entomologist at the Forest Service’s Rocky Mountain Research Station in Fort Collins, said temperatures are no longer dropping to minus 30 or minus 40 in the middle of the winter.

Every winter, mountain pine beetles develop a “cryoprotectant” compound in their bodies to protect them from severe cold. That protection is greatest in the middle of the winter and lowest during autumn and spring when the protection is either building up or wearing off, the report says.

But extremely cold temperatures for a few days or a week or more at a time can break through that barrier and kill the beetles.”

Regardless of what you think of climate science, the devastation of the beetle outbreak is undeniable, and in my opinion, incredibly sad. I visit the wild places to escape the bustle of humanity.  The dying landscape is a constant reminder of our appalling stewardship. Regardless of your politics, would it really be so terrible if we begin taking better care of our natural resources?

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This post, Extinction in Real Time, originally appeared on She Thought on December 13, 2010.
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Notre-Dame as seen from the South-Eastern side of the île de la Cité.

An editor of SheThought  came upon this article on Jezebel, and, being the only French guy she had immediately available, asked me what I thought about it… That article, by the way, lead to a few rounds of humorous banter between SheThought writers, as well as to an earlier post by Kitty.

So hum… I wonder, did the guy actually got outside or did the whole experience take place in his feverish imagination? (I guess, from a humane point of view, it actually is a good thing he did not, he might have bump into my dear sister and try that shit on her. The results, let me tell you,  would not have been pretty. Predictable, clearly, hilarious, most likely, but pretty, not by any stretch…).

I am honestly trying to see how somebody could live there and get the impression that ‘consent doesn’t exist’. I guess, one could say that it is probably more acceptable to be overtly flirtatious, even with strangers. Off colour jokes are also much more acceptable. One could also argue that the limits of personal space and the limit beyond which a socially acceptable, innocent flirting become excessively sexualized are a bit different between the two places, reflecting a difference in culture. And France is less puritanical than the U.S so people might be more open about their hook up making them easier to notice if not necessarily significantly more common. Finally, one must mention the fact that the rate of rape, in France, is about half of that in the U.S. This allows, one would assume, a bit less formality in the exchange of consent, which can be more implied than clearly uttered…

I also notice a personal anecdote in the article when the author states ‘falling madly in love’ with a woman, meeting her numerous times and yet failing to express his attraction overtly. To me, this might be hinting at an inexperienced young man, presumably from a conservative background. The differences, therefore, that he found so shocking might just be between the particular subset of the American culture he grew up with and the one he move in rather than between the two countries…

And that my friends, is the problem with anecdotal evidence. They can’t really be extrapolated.

The article also seems to contain wishful thinking and quite a bit of confirmation bias. The author is currently writing a book “about love he wrote while living in Paris”. Did he go to Paris to do some research on the subject (now, where did I hear that story before?)? Wouldn’t it have coloured his expectations?

But, mostly, I think that he just missed some of the subtle clues of human interactions, because they were not where he expected them and simply assumed they didn’t exist… And that, my friend, is the reason why Anthropology is an actual real job and not just a way for cunning academics to get their holiday travels played by public money…

I could be wrong, of course, and might consider setting an actual experimental procedure to test the author’s thesis… On the condition that he will accept to pay for the extensive testicular reconstructive surgery that, according to my expectations about the reaction of the “test subjects”, I will most certainly need…

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This post, An American Douchebag in Paris -Part 2: Return of the Douchebag., originally appeared on She Thought on November 26, 2010.
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His plea, since he is no longer in Paris and able to enjoy those “fun loving” Parisian women, is summed at near the end of his article. “I’m not suggesting that a woman have sex with someone she doesn’t want to, but I’m hoping we can start having more guilt-free sex by any means necessary. If we turn the volume down on consent, perhaps we’ll get closer to this kind of liberation.”

My first thought was that this poor young man was confused and had not lived in Paris, France, but rather in a fraternity house on double secret probation in Paris, Texas. The article shows a total lack of knowledge of Paris and of the United States.  Did this man never watch “Jersey Shore” before he bemoaned the lack of American women to hop in the sack on a whim?

I can only give my own take on Paris.  For one thing, the majority of Paris is now not what many would consider French.  Immigrants, most from a religion that frowns on PDA, make up the majority of men.  Obviously our American horny boy writer never hung out with those Parisians.

I am familiar with most of Paris and have to say that attacks on women (“Oh mademoiselle, I was zo carried away wiz your beauty I had to shove my tongue down your throat”) just aren’t as common as this man claims. And while MY Parisian nightlife experience may not be the same as the author, even my daughters, who greatly enjoyed the single scene, said that Parisian men had somehow managed to avoid assaulting them, no matter how tempting they were!

The Parisian/French experience IS indeed different than what a woman might have on the streets of Sheboygan.  Frenchmen can be very vocal in their appreciation of women.  And they appreciate all women.  I should know, at my age I take any attention I can get!  But the physical assault described as appreciation that “empowers” Parisian women is something I have never experienced.

Parisian men will come up to you and say “Your daughters are very beautiful, like their mother.”  Parisian men will “meow”.  If this guy does not know that Parisian men “meow” he wasn’t paying attention.  This “meow” is not a tasteless “cat call”.  It is a quiet “meow” of appreciation just meant for the woman.  No loud “MEOW” here, simply a gentle purr of appreciation.  My younger daughter had a generous amount of men offering to marry her, or saying “you are SO beautiful, I can die happy now!”

Yes, Parisian women, and women visiting Paris, enjoy this little flirtation.  It’s different than what men might say in the US, but it’s the same “game” that goes on around the world.  Parisians are no different than people in Moscow or New York.  Their pick-up lines might be different, but they are still pick-up lines.

Being a skeptical investigator who just happens to have many photographs of the city in question, I decided to examine some of these photos to see if I could find any sign of this Pepe LePew behavior, or of women acquiescing to this “appreciation” and saying “To heck with it!  Let’s DO IT”.

Exhibit A – My youngest daughter in Paris. Hmm, must not be good looking enough to attract attention.

Exhibit B – Perhaps Parisians aren’t leg men?

Exhibit C – WAIT!  Obviously some Parisian Zombie that can’t resist her devil duck.

Exhibit D – These women are clearly under attack by the nice old man.  In this part of Paris, music is played and women and men just meet up to dance – you don’t have to KNOW anyone!  Any moment now this man will show his appreciation for his partner by grabbing her ass.

Exhibit E – The only explanation I can give for the myth of Parisian party girls is that maybe the author confused this statue outside the Paris Opera House with real life.

In closing, I can express my opinion of this article by posting one final photograph taken in Paris:

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This post, An American Douchebag in Paris, originally appeared on She Thought on November 25, 2010.
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Kitty, GeekGoddess and their friend Susan with James Randi

Thanksgiving week means time to reflect on what I am grateful for.  When I became more involved with the skeptic community, I never knew that so many of my friends would come from the skeptic community.  When I attend TAM or go to a Skeptics in the Pub, I’m not just learning and sharing, I’m going to hang with my friends and be with people that let you be yourself.  You don’t have to worry  you are  going to insult someone if you say you don’t know what astrological sign your children are and don’t care.  I lost a friend once as she was insulted I wouldn’t even try homeopathic medication for my allergies.  I even got into a fight with an ER doctor who swore there were more “nut jobs” that came into the ER during a full moon.

This year I had my birthday while attending an Amazing Adventure cruise put on by the JREF.  James Randi made my gift appear.  It was my favorite birthday ever.  It even beat out my 8th birthday with the pony.

I’m grateful for all my skeptic friends, because true friends are people you can relax with.  Plus, skeptics are smart, funny, kind, caring and dare I say very good looking.

But don’t take my word for it….

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This post, Thankful for the Skeptics, originally appeared on She Thought on November 25, 2010.
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When in Paris I always try to visit the Musee Cluny.  The museum is an example of civic, as opposed to religious, architecture from the Middle Ages.  However, it is filled with many fine examples of religious art from the period and there is a lovely chapel inside the “hotel”.  The word “hotel” refers to a large private town residence in this case, and not a Holiday Inn.

Religious relics are among the most interesting items to see in Europe, and many, including the Shroud of Turin,  are still found in churches.  With religious tourist money so important to the economy of many small towns and churches, religious pilgrims HAD to be interested in coming your way, i.e. your church had to have a relic.  The Cluny has some interesting examples of relics that brought the faithful and their money to churches long ago.

This requiary is empty.  Perhaps at one time it held a finger bone, toe bone or even the blood of a saint.  No one would question the authenticity of a relic when it was held in such a beautiful container.  The relic from this requiary is missing, but you can see the skill of the artisan is conveying that what it held was indeed, holy.

This requiary obviously held a foot.  One of the more amusing stories from the Middle Ages was the fear St.Francis had of dying while visiting a monastery that would immediately cut him up to sell for profit.  The older the became, the more worried he was, because even though he was just a “holy man” his fame was enough to ensure a nice income for anyone lucky enough to have control of his body.

The old joke about “if you put all the pieces of the true cross together you could build an ark” is certainly true.  The Cluny owns numerous “true cross” requiaries.  Churches across Europe still display pieces of the “true cross”.  The container as usual helped to convey the holiness of the hunk of wood.

My favorite requiary is this one.  It’s not a clock in the belly of Jesus there.  That is the umbilical cord of Jesus himself.  You can still see it.  DNA testing results are still pending.

The tiny below painting shows St.Genevieve of Paris.  This shows her when she miraculously saved the city of Paris, by turning Atilla the Hun away from Paris.  Of course Attila the Hun then sacked the town of Orleans.  But Orleans did not have Genevieve.  Many Parisians name their daughters Genevieve.  Not so many residents of Orleans do.

We have to remember that very few people were literate in the Middle Ages.  Churches supported the arts not just to make their places of worship beautiful, but also to educate their parishioners.  The stained glass window shows what happens when you make Jesus mad.  I really like the poor guy getting his ear tugged, he seems to be saying “hey Jesus, really, I was just kidding”.  But the message is clear, don’t mess with Jesus.

No one in the church with this carving had to wonder what happened to John the Baptist.  He lost his head.

Was Jesus brave?  Yep, he was brave and even blond in this church carving.

At the Cluny chapel is this cute carving of 3 bunnies.  They represent the Holy Trinity.

Meanwhile in the outer courtyard of the Cluny is this carving that shows…cats have been cats forever.

But what of modern French churches?  Much art is still to be found in churches, and any visitor to Paris should take time to visit at least a few churches.  However, I noticed one odd thing as a “woo watcher”.  For some reason most churches were out of 2 euro candles.  Was there a problem at the candle factory?  Or for some reason did good Catholics feel a 1 euro problem was probably not that much in need of celestial intervention.  However, a 3 euro candle, well that was something very BIG and not a problem we have very often.  But 2 euro!

Well, we’ve all had 2 euro problems.  I imagine 2 euro problems are an appliance problem or perhaps car problem.  Maybe an ingrown toenail.  A bother, and if God could do something about it, that would be lovely.  One euro, not that big, three euro, wow that’s rare.  But we all live with 2 euro problems.

I will admit that I do enjoy buying a ONE euro candle to light and take a moment to think about someone I love that has died.  While not a Catholic, I have to say that taking a moment to think about someone loved in the quiet and beauty of a church is well worth a euro to me.

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This post, Kitty’s Wide, Wide World of Woo: Paris, Part Two, originally appeared on She Thought on August 5, 2010.
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I enjoy traveling as much as any skeptic.  Much like the writer David Sedaris has written, there is a certain thrill in being thrown into an environment where  you are not comfortable.  Not knowing a language and culture can raise the heart rate and means that even something as simple as finding milk is an adventure.  When my family lived in Brussels for several years I brought home coffee creamer, heavy creme, and even some sort of odd runny cheese in my effort to supply milk to my children for their breakfast cereal.  Anything with the word “lait” on it I bought.  Finally an English speaking neighbor pointed out to me that the milk was not refrigerated in most city grocery stores as it was irradiated.  It never occurred to me to look on a regular shelf for milk.  The children seemed to like the irradiated milk well enough and they only glow a little at night these days.

While I live in the US now I still grab any chance to travel.  Sometimes it’s to see a good skeptic friend.  Sometimes it’s a chance to go to Europe with my husband on business.  I am lucky enough that once a year the frequent flyer miles are enough that I can pop along with him on a trip.  My life is hectic enough that spending the days alone wandering around various parts of Europe with my camera is one of the highlights of my year.  Since we are traveling on “OPM” (other peoples money) I spend a lot of time walking and eating cheaply from bakeries.  One thing I really enjoy is looking for various local or cultural “woo”.

A recent trip found me in one of my favorite spots, Pere Lechaise cemetery in Paris.  I noticed that Oscar Wilde’s grave looked rather, peculiar.  I was told by a Parisian friend that kissing his grave will make you “lucky in love”.  I was then informed of various other “woo” superstitions of the cemetery.  For me this was “woo” at it’s finest, and so I thought I’d share with you a small tour “woo” tour of Pere Lechaise cemetery.

Paris cemeteries have historically been places for lovers to meet.  An oasis of quiet in the middle of a busy city, the cemetery is not just a place to bury the dead, but a place to relax, walk and has almost a park like atmosphere.  This might explain why so many of the Pere Lechaise superstitions have to do with “love”.

Oscar Wilde’s grave is probably most well known of the Perle Lechaise superstitions.  His art deco grave is covered with lip stick kisses and sadly his penis seems to be missing, perhaps taken as an especially potent talisman.  Kissing the grave means you will find love.  Since Oscar Wilde had great difficulties in being lucky love himself, and indeed ended up in prison serving time for being a homosexual, one wonders where this superstition started.  Still his stories and his life inspire thousands to kiss this grave every year.

My favorite love “woo” is the grave of the journalist Victor Noir.  He was shot dead at age 22, and his grave shows him as he fell (though I think it’s a rather romanticized version).  This 22 year old has a very shiny crotch area because touching it is supposed to cure infertility.  His lips are also very well worn as women that are having troubles finding sexual satisfaction have been known to “visit Victor” for a good time and a supposed cure to their inability to achieve orgasm.  Why a 22 year old murdered on the streets of Paris is the focus of such attention is yet another unexplained “woo” mystery.  Certainly it is a very handsome grave, but other than that there is nothing in the history of Victor Noir to make one think his grave would be a cure for a sexual problem.  Still, as the shiny parts show, he’s a very popular man even in death.

Among the many graves at Pere Lachaise are these eternal tributes to “woo”.  One grave is a tribute from a “woo” group that I think has died out, though at one time, phrenology (telling about a person by reading the bumps on their head) was very popular and well thought of.

Sadly one of the most popular grave sites in the cemetery is that of German scientist Samuel Hahnemann.  His grave is usually covered in flower tributes and visited by very ill people, who sadly are often heard to say “thank you” for a supposed cure.  I have seen people in wheelchairs and nothing more than skin and bones crying at his grave, and thanking him for “curing” them when their doctors had given up.  Perhaps it was simply as an angry reaction to this that some skeptic decided to redecorate the grave as an act of protest performance art.

Next time, I’ll share some of my French “woo” from various churches and the Cluny Museum.

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This post, Kitty’s Wide, Wide World of Woo: Paris, Part One, originally appeared on She Thought on July 28, 2010.
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