Category: Science

I was just thinking: You know how you are sometimes falling asleep–or are asleep–when your limbs suddenly jerk autonomically (by themselves)? At least, I experience that sometimes, and I assume that you do, too (if you’re attentive).

That limb jerk might have a purpose. Here’s what occurred to me:

When babies are in the womb, they often “kick,” though sometimes the kicks might actually be “punches.” In any event, they move their limbs in a jerky manner that causes their mothers some discomfort (while simultaneously providing delight to the mother, who can feel the child within her, and to others who place their hands on her stomach).

The reason that babies jerk their limbs in this way seems to be that they need to do it: It plays a useful role in their development. By moving their limbs around, the babies are ensuring that their joints work. Our joints–particularly at our shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees–are ball joints that could lock up if the bones grew in the wrong ways. Motion keeps the bones from growing in this way, and if the babies didn’t move in the womb then their bones might grow in ways that would cause their joints to lock up. But by moving them, they make sure that their joints remain fluid and flexible, so that when they emerge from the womb, they can move their arms and legs properly.

So here was my thought: Maybe the limb jerk that we experience when asleep or falling asleep is a survial of the prenatal limb jerk we all have. Maybe it’s a remnant of the reflex that causes our bones to grow right.

If any readers are doctors or others who have info on this, lemme know.

I was just thinking: You know how you are sometimes falling asleep–or are asleep–when your limbs suddenly jerk autonomically (by themselves)? At least, I experience that sometimes, and I assume that you do, too (if you’re attentive).

That limb jerk might have a purpose. Here’s what occurred to me:

When babies are in the womb, they often “kick,” though sometimes the kicks might actually be “punches.” In any event, they move their limbs in a jerky manner that causes their mothers some discomfort (while simultaneously providing delight to the mother, who can feel the child within her, and to others who place their hands on her stomach).

The reason that babies jerk their limbs in this way seems to be that they need to do it: It plays a useful role in their development. By moving their limbs around, the babies are ensuring that their joints work. Our joints–particularly at our shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees–are ball joints that could lock up if the bones grew in the wrong ways. Motion keeps the bones from growing in this way, and if the babies didn’t move in the womb then their bones might grow in ways that would cause their joints to lock up. But by moving them, they make sure that their joints remain fluid and flexible, so that when they emerge from the womb, they can move their arms and legs properly.

So here was my thought: Maybe the limb jerk that we experience when asleep or falling asleep is a survial of the prenatal limb jerk we all have. Maybe it’s a remnant of the reflex that causes our bones to grow right.

If any readers are doctors or others who have info on this, lemme know.

New drug offers chance to get tan without getting skin cancer to boot.

Will it work? Or is this idea just half-baked?

Thanks to a reader for passing along this story.

As Albert Einstein once remarked in critiquing quantum mechanics, “God does not play dice with the universe.” But while God may not gamble in physics, Stephen Hawking definitely does. In fact, he’s just lost a bet. (Such bets are common among astrophysicists, who are inveterate gamblers.)

What was the bet?

Hawking bet John Preskill of Caltech that black holes are total information traps, that they don’t let any information out about what has fallen into them, that they have zero bandwidth.

This conclusion led to what is known as the “black hole information paradox.”

Well, it turns out that Hawking has now concluded he was wrong. Black holes do release information as the evaporate (you did know they evaporate, right? 😉 and, theoretically, one could recover that information.

Hawking is now scheduled to eat a plate of spaghettified crow at a physics conference in Dublin.

He also now has to pay up on the bet he made with Preskill. According to the story,

The forfeit is an encyclopedia, from which Preskill can recover information at will.

For more information on what Hawking may announce at the conference, see this story reporting a possible solution to the black hole information paradox that posits that black holes are actually cosmic fuzzballs made of subatomic string.

Ain’t science cool?

Thanks to a reader for passing along this story.

As Albert Einstein once remarked in critiquing quantum mechanics, “God does not play dice with the universe.” But while God may not gamble in physics, Stephen Hawking definitely does. In fact, he’s just lost a bet. (Such bets are common among astrophysicists, who are inveterate gamblers.)

What was the bet?

Hawking bet John Preskill of Caltech that black holes are total information traps, that they don’t let any information out about what has fallen into them, that they have zero bandwidth.

This conclusion led to what is known as the “black hole information paradox.”

Well, it turns out that Hawking has now concluded he was wrong. Black holes do release information as the evaporate (you did know they evaporate, right? 😉 and, theoretically, one could recover that information.

Hawking is now scheduled to eat a plate of spaghettified crow at a physics conference in Dublin.

He also now has to pay up on the bet he made with Preskill. According to the story,

The forfeit is an encyclopedia, from which Preskill can recover information at will.

For more information on what Hawking may announce at the conference, see this story reporting a possible solution to the black hole information paradox that posits that black holes are actually cosmic fuzzballs made of subatomic string.

Ain’t science cool?

A new study reports that blonds perform intelligence tests more slowly than those with other hair colors if you force them to read “dumb blond” jokes before taking the test. According to a Reuters story:

“No blonde woman believes she is stupid,” said Jens Foerster a social psychologist from the International University Bremen in northern Germany on Wednesday.

“But after exposure to negative social-stereotypes about them, the fair-haired participants performed significantly more slowly in the tests.”

Foerster explained the result by saying that when people are told they can’t perform a task well, they work more slowly but more cautiously, to try to make fewer mistakes.

DUH! DUR-HEY!Who wouldn’t take an IQ test more carefully if you insulted their intelligence just before you gave it to them!

This obvious fact hasn’t stopped Reuters from using misleadingly anti-Blond headlines like:

* Do Dumb Blonde Jokes Slow Mental Activity??

And worse:

* “Dumb blondes” live up to stereotype

A new study reports that blonds perform intelligence tests more slowly than those with other hair colors if you force them to read “dumb blond” jokes before taking the test. According to a Reuters story:

“No blonde woman believes she is stupid,” said Jens Foerster a social psychologist from the International University Bremen in northern Germany on Wednesday.

“But after exposure to negative social-stereotypes about them, the fair-haired participants performed significantly more slowly in the tests.”

Foerster explained the result by saying that when people are told they can’t perform a task well, they work more slowly but more cautiously, to try to make fewer mistakes.

DUH! DUR-HEY!Who wouldn’t take an IQ test more carefully if you insulted their intelligence just before you gave it to them!

This obvious fact hasn’t stopped Reuters from using misleadingly anti-Blond headlines like:

* Do Dumb Blonde Jokes Slow Mental Activity??

And worse:

* “Dumb blondes” live up to stereotype

Last Halloween the sun let loose with a huge, hellacious (literally!) sunstorm that has sent shockwaves throughout the solar system. It was a real Halloween scare. According to one story:

On Earth, aircraft were rerouted and astronauts took cover in the international space station to avoid the effects, and the aurora borealis surged southward to the Mediterranean Sea.

The wave triggered magnetic storms on Jupiter and Saturn and peeled away parts of Mars’s upper atmosphere. Scientists suggested that such storms, spread over billions of years, could explain how Mars lost the seas that might have once covered its surface.

The significance of the event is particularly brought out by the fact that astronauts on the International Space Station hunkered down in in shielded areas (no miles of protective atmosphere with its ozone, remember?) to ride out the storm like a hurricane.

Note also that storms like this may have been what stripped Mars of its oceans. Mars may be dry because it was sun-blasted into being an endless, red beach. That’s cosmic, man!

As noted, the shockwaves from the Halloween storms were sent throughout the solar system. The problem is, the solar system is a big place. So big, in fact, that the shock waves have not yet reached the end of it.

“Where does it end?” you ask.

Well, we don’t quite know. But the shockwaves from the storm may help us figure it out. You see, the solar system is often defined as ending at a place known as . . . . Dum! Dum! Dum! . . . THE HELIOPAUSE.

“What is the heliopause?” you ask.

Here we can give a more informative answer. As you may know, interstellar space is not quite empty, despite what folks say. It contains a very, very, very x 10^something thin volume of gas and dust. Some dust, but mostly gas. And–as I said–very, very, incredibly thin. This is known among astronomers as the interstellar medium.

The interstellar medium ain’t static. It has currents that flow within it, known as interstellar winds, chiefly caused by the rotation of the galaxy. Our sun, as you know, also kicks out a wind–the solar wind–which streams out at supersonic speeds from the sun.

As it streams out, the solar wind pushes against the interstellar medium, and at some point the push against the interstellar medium is strong enough that it slows the solar wind to subsonic levels. That point is known as . . . Dum! Dum! Dum! . . . “THE TERMINATION SHOCK.” (Fooled ya, huh?)

Where the termination shock is depends on how strong the solar wind is, and that varies (with solar storms, for example). But it’s about 100 AU (Astronomical Units = the distance between the Earth and the Sun), and Voger I passed it in February 2003.

As the solar wind meets continuing resistance from the interstellar medium, even after the termination shock, it continues to slow down. When it is no longer able to resist the pressure caused by the interstellar medium, we have reached the point known as THE HELIOPAUSE. (Dum! Dum! Dum!)

The heliopause is, effectively, the boundary between our solar system and interstellar space. Thing is, it’s lopsided with respect to the sun. That’s caused by the fact that the interstellar medium is pressing against the solar systemmore strongly on one side than ‘tuther (because of galactic rotation, remember?). As a result, the sun is closer to the heliopause in the direction of rotation. Nevertheless, the heliopause is a good, logical barrier for where the solar system begins and ends. We just don’t know quite where it is.

But we may be about to find out.

Y’see, as solar winds press against it, it causes observable effects. Right now the mission of the Voyager I and Voyager II space probes is to explore this area, and the Halloween storms are likely to give them the clues they need to figure out where the heliopause is.

When the shockwave sent out by the Halloween storms smacks into the interstellar medium, it is likely to cause electrical effects (low-level radio waves) that Voyager I can detect and then tell Earth about. If so, we’ll have a good clue as to where the heliopause is (distorted as the readings may be by the strenth of the shockwave).

————————–

Now, when Voyager 6 returns from the machine world on the other side of the galaxy, we’ll have some real data to crow about!

Last Halloween the sun let loose with a huge, hellacious (literally!) sunstorm that has sent shockwaves throughout the solar system. It was a real Halloween scare. According to one story:

On Earth, aircraft were rerouted and astronauts took cover in the international space station to avoid the effects, and the aurora borealis surged southward to the Mediterranean Sea.

The wave triggered magnetic storms on Jupiter and Saturn and peeled away parts of Mars’s upper atmosphere. Scientists suggested that such storms, spread over billions of years, could explain how Mars lost the seas that might have once covered its surface.

The significance of the event is particularly brought out by the fact that astronauts on the International Space Station hunkered down in in shielded areas (no miles of protective atmosphere with its ozone, remember?) to ride out the storm like a hurricane.

Note also that storms like this may have been what stripped Mars of its oceans. Mars may be dry because it was sun-blasted into being an endless, red beach. That’s cosmic, man!

As noted, the shockwaves from the Halloween storms were sent throughout the solar system. The problem is, the solar system is a big place. So big, in fact, that the shock waves have not yet reached the end of it.

“Where does it end?” you ask.

Well, we don’t quite know. But the shockwaves from the storm may help us figure it out. You see, the solar system is often defined as ending at a place known as . . . . Dum! Dum! Dum! . . . THE HELIOPAUSE.

“What is the heliopause?” you ask.

Here we can give a more informative answer. As you may know, interstellar space is not quite empty, despite what folks say. It contains a very, very, very x 10^something thin volume of gas and dust. Some dust, but mostly gas. And–as I said–very, very, incredibly thin. This is known among astronomers as the interstellar medium.

The interstellar medium ain’t static. It has currents that flow within it, known as interstellar winds, chiefly caused by the rotation of the galaxy. Our sun, as you know, also kicks out a wind–the solar wind–which streams out at supersonic speeds from the sun.

As it streams out, the solar wind pushes against the interstellar medium, and at some point the push against the interstellar medium is strong enough that it slows the solar wind to subsonic levels. That point is known as . . . Dum! Dum! Dum! . . . “THE TERMINATION SHOCK.” (Fooled ya, huh?)

Where the termination shock is depends on how strong the solar wind is, and that varies (with solar storms, for example). But it’s about 100 AU (Astronomical Units = the distance between the Earth and the Sun), and Voger I passed it in February 2003.

As the solar wind meets continuing resistance from the interstellar medium, even after the termination shock, it continues to slow down. When it is no longer able to resist the pressure caused by the interstellar medium, we have reached the point known as THE HELIOPAUSE. (Dum! Dum! Dum!)

The heliopause is, effectively, the boundary between our solar system and interstellar space. Thing is, it’s lopsided with respect to the sun. That’s caused by the fact that the interstellar medium is pressing against the solar systemmore strongly on one side than ‘tuther (because of galactic rotation, remember?). As a result, the sun is closer to the heliopause in the direction of rotation. Nevertheless, the heliopause is a good, logical barrier for where the solar system begins and ends. We just don’t know quite where it is.

But we may be about to find out.

Y’see, as solar winds press against it, it causes observable effects. Right now the mission of the Voyager I and Voyager II space probes is to explore this area, and the Halloween storms are likely to give them the clues they need to figure out where the heliopause is.

When the shockwave sent out by the Halloween storms smacks into the interstellar medium, it is likely to cause electrical effects (low-level radio waves) that Voyager I can detect and then tell Earth about. If so, we’ll have a good clue as to where the heliopause is (distorted as the readings may be by the strenth of the shockwave).

————————–

Now, when Voyager 6 returns from the machine world on the other side of the galaxy, we’ll have some real data to crow about!

Okay. This is not a joke. (I find myself having to say that on an increasingly frequent basis for some reason.)

Somebody has done gone and created translucent concrete.

Excerpts from the story:

It used to be only Superman who could see through concrete walls, but an exhibit at the National Building Museum shows mere mortals can do it too.

Called “Liquid Stone,” the show features variations of translucent concrete, a newfangled version of the old construction standby that offers a combination of aesthetics and practicality.

The translucent blocks are made by mixing glass fibers into the combination of crushed stone, cement and water, varying a process that has been used for centuries to produce a versatile building material. The process was devised by Hungarian architect Aron Losonczi in 2001.

One of the first demonstrations was a sidewalk in Stockholm made of thin sheets of translucent concrete. It looks like an ordinary sidewalk by day but is illuminated at night by lights under it.

A company in Aachen, Germany, called LiTraCon for “light transmitting concrete,” makes translucent blocks and plans to have them market-ready this year.

“Think of illuminating subway stations with daylight,” he suggested in an e-mail. Or using the concrete for speed bumps and lighting them from below to make them more visible at night.

Inventor Thomas A. Edison had the idea of an all-concrete house almost a century ago. Though he worked on it for years and spent a lot of money, the idea never caught on.

“Liquid Stone” will be on view [at the National Building Museum in Washington] though Jan. 23. Admission is free.

If I lived on the right coast, I’d go see it! (And have my picture taken with it.)

Shoot! What will they think of next . . . transparent aluminum or something?