Fought hard to get through the traffic and city lights and all the traffic up in the foothills east of town, but we did get to see us some Northern Lights.
Science has, for the first time, photographed a black hole.
Einstein’s general theory of relativity still looks to be accurate.
And I guess technically what we’ve got a photo of is the “environment at a black hole’s event horizon,” which is probably the closest we can actually get a getting a photo of a black hole.
The photo itself, given what other wonders we’ve see in the universe, is underwhelming. But not really. It’s actually pretty cool.
Wired does a nifty job explaining why it’s such a big deal that this photo exists – getting one is extremely difficult.
On to Einstein. This is what Space.com reports:
If the observed silhouette matches the theory-informed simulations, "then Einstein was 100% right," [Dimitrios] Psaltis [an astronomy professor at the University of Arizona] said. "If the answer is no, then we have to tweak his theory in order to make it work with experiments. This is how science goes." And we learned today that no tweaks are needed, at least at the moment: EHT's M87 observations are consistent with general relativity, team members said. Namely, the event horizon is nearly circular and is the "right" size for a black hole of that immense mass. "I have to admit, I was a little stunned that it matched so closely the predictions that we had made," EHT team member Avery Broderick, of the University of Waterloo and the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics in Canada, said during today's news conference.
And Einstein didn’t have an array of telescopes as large as the Earth. He had his mind and a motorcycle.
And I sure hope someone played this music as they viewed the pictures.
Came to a somewhat shocking realization this morning as I was reading more news about the New Horizon spacecraft’s remarkable visit with Ultima Thule on New Year’s Day:
The current state of manned space exploration is really boring.
And maybe that’s a crap attitude, similar to the “milk run,” or “making landing on the moon about as exciting as flying to Pittsburg” attitude the Apollo astronauts and associated hangers-on had to deal with in the early 1970s.
But it’s my attitude.
And I’m sure whomever is currently in orbit around the Earth right now – I assume there are people in orbit; it’s become de rigeur to have someone in orbit these days – are doing interesting things. Highly valuable things that will someday contribute to the great whatever.
Or maybe not.
I have little interest in finding out.
Clearly, there are others who are interested. There’s even a website and app – of course there’s an app – that’ll tell you, to the man or woman, how many people there are currently in space.
This particular site doesn’t seem to care either. Maybe the app is different. But right now, it’ll tell you the number of people in space, their names, countries of origin, and just how long, to the day, they’ve been in space. Click on a name and you’ll get sent to that astronaut’s Wikipedia page.
Which don’t seem to care what, exactly, these people are doing in space either.
But I have read article after article about New Horizons and Ultima Thule. I’ve pored over what few photos have been released of this primitive little planetismal and can’t wait to see more. (Although the New Year’s Eve party they had at the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory? Looked pretty boring to me. Of course, there were people involved. Boo.)
But Ultima Thule. Forget the dumb Nazi connection to the name. What would it be like to stand at the junction of those two lobes? Would each tower above you as if you were at the bottom of a narrow canyon? Or are they large enough the view would appear as if you were merely at the bottom of a wide valley? As I’ve never stood on a small object like either Ultima or Thule, I have no frame of reference, aside from the canyon/valley idea. But I would love to stand there. That’s when manned space exploration gets exciting to me – much more than merely orbiting weightless. Even if they’re doing really neato science as they bob about.
I should fix my attitude. Because they probably are doing interesting things at the International Space Station. Besides, continued public support for manned space exploration just might get us out of orbit and onto something much more interesting than a tin can floating above the earth.
But when it’s the probes and rovers that get to go to the interesting places like Ultima Thule, the far side of the Moon, and Mars, that’s where my main interest will remain.
NOTE:This is the start of a very intermittent series on this blog, wherein I review anything I may have watched, read, or otherwise gained from our Amazon Prime membership. This is partly to continue justifying the cost of Amazon Prime as it takes yet another leap, and to remind me what a wonderful cornucopia of media there is out there that I have yet to witness, or re-witness as the case may be.
Part One: A Film Set in America Yet Featuring Comically Impossible Italian Cars
I’m not a big fan of the zombie/vampire film genre. There’s only so much you can do with a story about hiding out from the baddies. Particularly when the baddies are of the slow, mumbling, gonna get you when I actually get around to it variety.
And I’ll admit when I saw "The Last Man on Earth" was based on the book “I Am Legend” as the opening credits spooled, I was surprised the book was that old (given its recent treatment in the Will Smith vehicle of the same name).
And eh. I could live without this film.
Though it was fun to see all these comical Italian vehicles in a film that’s supposed to be set in the United States, or so I assume when “his excellency the governor” appears on TV to say his state too has been declared a disaster area.
Vincent Price seemed ill-fitted to the role. His character needed the cocky assurance of Charlton Heston a la The Omega Man, another film based on this book. Yet Price’s vulnerability, brought about by the inevitable laughter over memories begetting tears over the same memories, is undeniable.
And where did the organized group of vampire-killers get their matching outfits?
Part Two: These Days, Anyone Can Make A Documentary
First of all, I was right. That is Elliot Gould narrating "The Soyuz Conspiracy".
That’s been the only thing I’ve liked about it.
Well, there was the background used for one of the experts interviewed for the film: a touristy book on Russia, some nesting dolls, and a big map clearly labeled, Batmanesque, “Former Soviet Union” tacked to the wall behind him.
While the story told is compelling, everything else about this film feels amateurish, from the schlocky graphics to the “put more Russian stuff in the background” set dressing.
There’s little about this film that feels new – maybe it was in 2000. Looking at it now, it’s hard to tell what the “new footage” the documentary touts is, as most of what we’re seeing is film of Soviet parades.
And in describing the death of cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, bada boom, it feels like Gould goes off-script. Or maybe he stayed on a terribly-written script.
In any shape or form, this documentary feels slipshod, just like an early Soyuz.
There’s no glee in that statement. It’s disappointing to see
space exploration arrive at failure. But after the probe’s parachute jettisoned
early and its retro rockets fired for only three or four seconds rather than
the programmed 30 seconds, the European Space Agency likely has lost its
Schiaparelli lander on 19 October 2016.
This comes after the loss of Beagle 2 in 2003; that lander
was recently discovered on the surface of Mars with its solar panels only
partially deployed.
NASA's had its own bad luck on Mars, of course. In 1888, the Mars
Climate Orbiter crashed into the planet rather than orbiting it because imperial measurements were used in its thruster controls rather than metric. Oopsie.
Also in 1999, the Mars Polar Lander crashed into the planet when its braking engine shut down too soon.
ESA’s approach to landing Schiaparelli was simple compared to that used
by NASA’s Curiosity rover. If any landing were to fail, you’d expect it to be
the ridiculously complex Curiosity landing. But that one succeeded.
It is interesting that Schiaparelli’s mission appears
primarily to prove that Europe can land a craft on Mars, while the orbiter it
was attached to looks for trace gases in the Martian atmosphere. It doesn’t
appear their test was successful.
New images from the Cassini probe exploring the Saturn system, show something pretty amazing:
Look at those structures. Miles high, probably. What could cause them? Probably some perturbation from one of Saturn's moons, But how? We've seen scallops in rings (see below) but what in the world is this?
We live in an astounding universe, and understand so little about our own solar system.
For the last few years, we’ve heard report after report that
Voyager 1, launched from Earth in 1977 to explore the Solar System, had left
the heliosphere, the invisible magnetic and charged particle bubble in space
dominated by the Sun, and had encountered the heliopause, the point in space
where the Sun’s influence ends and interstellar space begins.
That may have finally actually happened, thanks to data
recorded by the probe in 2012 and 2013:
The density of the particles around Voyager 1 was 40 times
higher than scientists had previously observed when the space probe was still
in the outer layers of the heliosphere, the giant bubble of charged particles
and magnetic fields that surrounds the sun and the planets in our solar system.
Voyager 1 team members concluded that the spacecraft had exited the heliosphere
and entered a new cosmic realm. After researchers went back and looked at old
data, they concluded that Voyager 1 crossed into interstellar space on August
25, 2012.
Cool stuff.
Also, consider this: The data coming back to us from Voyager
1 is recorded on old-fashioned magnetic tape, then relayed to Earth. Magnetic
tape, capable of recording up to 64 megabytes of data. How robust must that
little probe be? Damn robust. The recorder is set to shut down in 2015, leaving
only direct communication with Earth possible – until the probe’s plutonium
power source dies out in about 2025.
It’s part of a small club of man-made objects that have
either left the Solar System or will within my lifetime.
I had high hopes for Philae – and I’m certainly not alone.
The first to land on a comet. The first to poke at a comet’s
crust and innards to see if comets are a potential source of life on Earth
(meaning the water and the organic chemicals necessary for life). Optimists had
hoped Philae would be alive and actively probing the comet’s secrets for up to
five months.
But failures in the lander’s harpoons – meant to anchor it
to the comet once it touched down – and in a thruster meant to assist the
harpoons in anchoring – meant the comet bounced twice off the comet before
coming to a landing, on its side, with its solar panels in obscurity for all
but 1 ½ hours during each of the comet’s 12-hour days – far less than what was
needed to keep the lander’s batteries charged. A mission optimistically meant
to last months lasted only 60 hours, though hope remains that as the comet gets
closer to the sun, reorientation of the comet itself will place the solar
panels in enough sunlight to revive the lander.
So I have to ask: Is Philae a failure?
No one is saying that – the cheering going on all last week
as the lander sent back its data drowned out any other voices, except those
complaining about the sexy shirt and off-kilter comments by British Physicist
Matt Taylor, a Rosetta scientist. But I think it’s a fair question. Yes, the
lander hit its intended landing target with pinpoint accuracy, making Philae
the first scientific instrument to make a soft landing on a comet. Yes, the
lander was able to send back some data that will likely answer many questions
about comet composition. But doesn’t the fact that the thing bounced twice, ended
up on its side and drained of electricity after less than 60 hours of operation
make anyone else think the mission was less than a smashing success?
The European Space Agency is rightly touting Philae’s
success. But how much of this is PR bunko? Seeing the results of the tests will
be more telling to judge Philae’s success.
And you may ask, what are my bonafides? I can answer that
clearly: None whatsoever. I’m just a longtime sky-gazer just a tad underwhelmed
by what Philae has thusfar provided. I still wonder at the idea of using solar
power to recharge batteries in an environment where a Voyager-style plutoniumsystem would have eliminated many questions as far as electricity goes. Having
multihundred watt radioisotope thermoelectric generators is what is helping
both Voyagers survive the conditions of interstellar space, while still sending
information back decades after they were launched, after all. Voyager’s primary
missions ended in 1989 – fully twenty-five(!) years ago. Yet because of their
construction, they’re still sending information back to us. They should still
have enough electricity to operate until 2025. And the electrical system they
carry weighs only 38 kilos. Certainly a smaller version could have been fitted
on Philae, which itself weighs 100 kilos. But that’s just the armchair engineer
speaking.
To answer my own question: Is Philae a failure? In my
opinion, the jury Is still out. I’ll wait to see what data it was able to
cllect, and whether it will be in a state to be revived in the future, before I
decide. But right now, the signal to noise ratio seems a bit low to call the
mission a success.
I have a friend at work who is much more optimistic about
the lander’s performance – it was such a shoestring, he says, to get a lander
onto a surface where the gravity is so weak. He’s very excited to see
additional information on the mission. Listening to him helps me feel more
optimistic. Time will tell.
Those striations on Comet Churyumov-Gerasimenko could be
erosion lines in a sand dune or arroyo on Earth – yet there they are, millions
of miles from the sun on a chunk of ice and rock floating alone in the void.
What would it be like to walk in that valley – it would
appear to be a valley to someone walking there – on that eerie world? What
would the curve of the valley floor look like, as you walked to the horizon?
And how long would it take until you found yourself following your own
footprints?
That soil and ice in the bottom of the valley has got to be
loose. I can’t imagine what underlying connection there could be between the
comet’s two lobes. And the lobes, though joined, look so different, though
perhaps the difference is an illusion of perception – the side of the valley we
can’t see might be marked just as the other side is – and the “tops” of the
lobes appear indistinguishable.
Indy and Harry
-
We're heavily into many things at our house, as is the case with many
houses. So here are the fruits of many hours spent with Harry Potter and
Indiana Jone...
Here at the End of All Things
-
And another book blog is complete.
Oh, Louis Untermeyer includes a final collection of little bits -- several
pages of insults -- but they're nothing I hav...
Here at the End of All Things
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I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my
favorite Cokesbury Party Blog moments. Holding a contest to see which book
to roast he...
Joseph Smith Rough Stone Rolling, by Richard Lyman Bushman. 740 pages.
Read in 2026
Al Capone does my Homework, by Gennifer Choldenko. 214 pages.
Americans at War, by Stephen Ambrose. 252 pages.
Astoria: John Jacob Astor and Thomas Jefferson's Lost Pacific Empire. 366 pages.
Bear that Wasn't, The; by Frank Tashlin. 64 pages.
Christmas Box Miracle, The; by Richard Paul Evans. 261 pages.
Complete Ripping Yarns, The; by Michael Palin and Terry Jones. 278 pages.
Cowboy and His Elephant, The; by Malcolm MacPherson.240 pages.
Cuckoo's Egg, The; by Cliff Stoll. 400 pages.
Dirks Escape, The; by C. Brandon Rimmer. 191 pages.
Dog for All Seasons, A; by Patti Sherlock. 244 pages.
Dragonhaven, by Robin McKinley. 342 pages.
Gun Seller, The; by Hugh Laurie. 340 pages.
I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith. 343 pages.
J. Golden Kimball, the Story of A Unique Personality, by Claude Richards. 398 pages.
Kaboom Boys, The; by Elaine Hume Peake and Don Keith. 345 pages.
Last Battle, The; by Cornelius Ryan. 571 pages.
Malcolm at Midnight, by W. H. Beck, pictures by Brian Lies. 267 pages.
Mogo's Flute, by Hilda van Stockum. 87 pages.
One Corpse Too Many, by Ellis Peters. 285 pages.
Portable Door, The; by Tom Holt. 404 pages.
Possum that Didn't, The; by Frank Tashlin. 64 pages.
Rare Benedictine, A; by Ellis Peters. 150 pages.
Relativity: The Special and General Theory, by Albert Einstein. 164 pages
Social Contract, The; by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. 188 pages.
Tales of the Peculiar, by Ransom Riggs. 190 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Three Against Hitler, by Rudi Wobbe and Jerry Borrowman. 164 pages.
Town, The; by Shaun Prescott. 247 pages.
Unsung Heroes and Settlers of Bonneville County, Idaho; by Connie Otteson. 167 pages.
Walk in the Woods, A; by Bill Bryson. 397 pages.
Will Rogers Book, The; compiled by Paula McSpadden Love. 212 pages.
Ze Page Total: 8,009
The Best Part
Americans at War, by Stephen Ambrose
The Indiana and the Illinois units came over the barricade north of the railroad and captured a gun. Private James S. Adkins of the 33rd Illinois, exhilarated by the bloodless victory, leaped astride the gun tube, waved his elbows up and down at his sides, and crowed like a rooster. Then, curious, he tugged at the lanyard. The gun went off, hurling a shell close over the heads of the units coming up in support, and bucking Adkins head over heels into the dirt. Miraculously, no one was hurt.