The Last Word

Suitsu_jõgi_MatsalusApril 14 – 18

Our boy, Abstruse Goose, becomes as one with his electronic devices.  Truer than he knows.  Well.  I don’t know what he knows.  Truer than you might think, anyway.

Poor Jessa, age 35, thinking about losing her math abilities.  And yes, mathematicians do have the reputation of topping out young.  But Jessa, you’ve got a long way to go before you hit Downhill.

Spring is auction season, everything has its price; and jump-bidders and snipers, Cameron’s got your number.  Turns out auction fever goes better with a little wine.

The kid who won an Olympic gold for Russia was — as is Michelle — from White Salmon.  And what did White Salmon do about this? asked for his autograph.

Cassie finally finds a simple declarative unqualified sentence she can write about medicine — colon cancer screening saves lives — then, sorry, nope, not even that.

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Photo by Abrget47j, via Wikimedia Commons.  It’s unrelated to any post, but it was just so beautiful.

 

Colon Cancer Screening Saves Lives?

8158888029_3d071d3fde_b“Colon cancer screening saves lives.” That’s how I began my latest article for Nature Medicine. The news story was about new non-invasive tests that aim to make screening a lot more pleasant. The lead wasn’t great. You could probably find a dozen other stories that begin the same way. But it at least seemed solid. Science is all about qualifiers and caveats, and I was delighted that, for once, I didn’t have to add an “appears to” or a “perhaps.”

When I fact checked the article, I didn’t really stop to question that line. Colon cancer screening saves lives. Of course it does. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t devote time and money to screening. Duh.

But then a few days ago I received an email from a reader. “I am puzzled by your opening statement in your recent Nature Medicine article, that colorectal screening saves lives,” she wrote. And then she quoted the National Cancer Institute: “Based on solid evidence, screening for colorectal cancer (CRC) reduces CRC mortality, but there is little evidence that it reduces all-cause mortality, possibly because of an observed increase in other causes of death.” Continue reading

A Hometown Hero, A Foreign Flag

Vladimir_Putin_and_Vic_Wild_24_February_2014Last Saturday, my daughter and I went to the opening day of Little League season. In our small town of White Salmon, Washington, it’s a day for classic Americana: The players chase their coaches around the bases, the Boy Scouts raise the Stars and Stripes, we sing the Star-Spangled Banner, and a local celebrity throws the first pitch.

This year the pitcher was Vic Wild, a White Salmon native who won two gold medals in snowboarding in Sochi. When the announcer called his name, Wild, in dark sunglasses and a flannel shirt, jogged to the pitcher’s mound. He grinned and shrugged, then wound up and let loose a pretty good pitch. The crowd went crazy.

What nobody mentioned—not the announcer, not the kids, not the smiling parents—was that Wild, who graduated from the local high school and trained on nearby Mt. Hood, didn’t win his double gold for Team USA. He won it for Russia, and there are photos of him with Vladimir Putin to prove it.

How did our town come to celebrate a Russian champion? Continue reading

Going Once, Going Twice

423286736_06177b6366_zSpring is in the air, and with it comes the cha-ching of candy-bar sales. Of jogathons. Of hordes of students (and their parents) trying to raise money for books, for field trips, for the art program that’s on the chopping block, for scholarships.

In some places there are also auctions. Here, we have themed auctions where you dress as gypsies and aging rock stars. We have silent auctions, in which you hover around sheets of paper in front of gift baskets, writing down your bid. We have live auctions, where you—well, I’ve never been to one, but I imagine people start by demurely raising numbers into the air and then, as the night wears on, hollering uncontrollably at the auctioneer. This isn’t Sotheby’s, after all. This is preschool. Continue reading

Losing My Math

transit of venus

In playwright David Auburn’s Pulitzer Prize-winning work Proof (later adapted into a film starring Gwyneth Paltrow and Jake Gyllenhaal) there’s an exchange between a young mathematician and the daughter of his recently-deceased mentor. They’re at a party and discussing the use of amphetamines by older mathematicians:

Hal: There’s this fear that your creativity peaks around twenty-three and it’s all downhill from there. Once you hit fifty it’s over, you might as well teach high school.

Catherine: That’s what my father thought.

Hal: I dunno. Some people stay prolific.

Catherine: Not many.

Hal: No, you’re right. Really original work – it’s all young guys.

That was in Act I, Scene III. What was it Anton Chekhov said? According to Ilia Gurliand’s memories, it was “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one, it should be fired.” Right on cue in Act II, Scene II, we see the weapon used. Continue reading

Abstruse Goose: Electronic Man

i_sing_the_gadgets_electricAG’s mouseover says, “When I forget to charge my phone at night, my existence feels incomplete in the morning,” meaning I guess that he’s become as one with his electronic devices.  But as I know because I’ve been writing an interminable story about insomnia, AG’s identity as an electronic device is just the God’s truth.  You don’t sleep — it’s called “nonrestorative sleep” — you don’t recharge. I read once that our bodies’ cells are powered by breaking down a molecule called adenosine tri-phosphate into, first, adenosine di-phosphate and then adenosine mono-phosphate until we’re left with nothing but adenosine.  And (huge logic gap here) those ravelled sleaves of adenosines and phosphates get knitted back up only during sleep.  I suspect I’m making up most of this but wouldn’t want to let facts get in the way of a good story. I mean, something like this must happen, right?

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http://www.abstrusegoose.com/561

The Last Word

CraigChildsLeafApril 7 – 11, 2014

This week we say a sad but temporary ciao to Sally and a delighted ecco! to Craig Childs, and no, I don’t have a clue what he’s doing in that photograph.

Sports programs measuring themselves by winning instead of by kick-ass players who also know how to lose are, says Christie, purely missing the point.

Craig goes to the back of the frozen beyond and meets, of all people, a lost, hungry, and maybe even stupid Japanese tourist.  He suspects this has been the case for centuries.

Just quit arguing about evolution vs creation, says Erik.  Your opinion doesn’t matter and you know the whole thing is best as entertainment anyway.

Helen turned out to have nailed the date of peak bloom of the DC cherry trees.  Oh spring, you’ve been gone so long, we missed you so much, and you’re such a blessed sight for sore eyes.

I watch Garwin: the Movie; in the opening scene, a precise old hand spills out a pillcase next to a keyboard and in the sky, the blossom of a mushroom cloud unfolds.

 

Garwin: the Movie (UPDATED)

IMG_2990 (1)Garwin: the Movie opens with an old, steady, precise hand on a computer keyboard, scrolling through now-declassified* documents.  Harry Truman and Dwight Eisenhower make announcements, and newspapers flash headlines about our splendid new hydrogen bomb.  Then the blossom of a mushroom cloud unfolds; and John F. Kennedy talks about Russian missiles in Cuba; and the same old hand places a pill case near the keyboard, then dumps out his pills. Lyndon Johnson explains the complex problems of Vietnam and soldiers shoot their way through a jungle, and the old hand is tieing up a necktie.  Walter Cronkite reports Three-Mile Island, and the old hand pulls on a suit jacket and slings a heavy backpack over his shoulder.  The oil wells of Kuwait explode into a fiery smoking darkness, which becomes the smoking darkness of the Twin Towers, which slides into the tsunami slipping in slow motion over the drowning towns of Japan; and the old hand picks up an umbrella, and a heavily-burdened, slightly baggy old guy in a nice suit and tie stumps out onto the sidewalk, gets in a cab, and goes to DC.  The film title slowly spells out the name, Garwin.  The old guy gets out of the cab, slowly, creakily — he’s 86, after all — and walks past a group of anti-nuke demonstrators, stops and looks at them for a second, then walks on.  He’s seen them before.  He walks into the Executive Office Building.  You know, he says, the president and his national security advisor, aside from their positions, “are really just ordinary people.  And they need to make decisions and they don’t have time to learn.  So the only thing that really works is education.”

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Richard L. Garwin, a physicist and inventor, has been educating politicians on the scientific realities, whether they want him to or not, in every administration since Eisenhower’s.  He educates them on the physics of nuclear weapons, missile defense, jungle warfare, burning oil wells, terrorist attacks, and of nuclear plant meltdowns. The people who made the movie about him, Richard Breyer and Anand Kamalakar, originally pitched a film on the history of science in America, using Garwin like Zelig or Forrest Gump, they said, because at important moments in history, he always showed up.  “But when we got to know him and hung out with him,” Kamalakar said, “it evolved into this other film about a person who built this horrible thing and worked his whole life to dance around it.” Continue reading