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Category: Big Picture

Flies
A Buddhist friend of mine once gave me some useful advice about killing. “It’s not so much the killing,” he said, “but what you’re feeling when you do it.” You can’t really decide what your feelings will be, of course, but they are reliable barometers of your level of enlightenment. That was my take on what he said, anyway, though I’m never sure about this kind of stuff.

I want to make clear, for the record, that I have never killed anyone, I don’t want to kill anyone, and I hope that I never do kill anyone. On the other hand, I am not one of those people who would never hurt a fly. In fact, I’ve hurt plenty of flies. I’ve also got the deaths of rats, mice, gophers, mosquitoes and many, many other species of insect on my rap sheet.

My friend the Buddhist didn’t elaborate about which emotions I should be concerned about. I assume that taking pleasure in killing, for example, would be a red flag. But what about annoyance, anger, rage? Again, I am uncertain.

Right now, at the end of summer, the issue of killing is coming up more and more. I have killed four flies in the last week — with my bare hands. Well, that’s not precisely correct, now that I think of it. Three of them were dispatched with a rolled-up newspaper. The other was flicked with a fingernail, however, and I think that qualifies as bare-handed killing. Since the flies around here are coming to the end of their lives right now, they tend to be big…and slow. They are also at their most annoying. They are easier to kill, then, at the very time that they seem to be asking for it the most. It’s at times like these that I fear for my own enlightenment.

I should say here that I am not a Buddhist myself. I don’t believe, as some Buddhists do, in reincarnation, so I’m not trying to upgrade the status of my next life. I’m not a Christian, either, so I’m not trying to be good so I can get into heaven. As far as I can tell from where I sit, there is no next life of any kind. If I have any religion at all, it would be about trying to do right. Or maybe trying to try. Something like that, anyway. It’s hard to be sure when you’re making it up as you go along.

So far, my made-up religion includes trying to be someone I could be proud of —someone, for instance, who doesn’t kill thoughtlessly or with cruelty. But then, what if pride itself is one of those red-flag feelings my friend talked about? I confess that when I finger-flicked that fly last week, I did feel a surge of pride in my killing skill. I’m not sure, but that doesn’t feel like a positive indicator for my level of enlightenment.

I like to think that all this uncertainty is actually a strength of my made-up religion. It makes me think twice before acting, and that’s usually a good thing — as long as it doesn’t stop me from doing what I have to do. Those flies carry disease. They are unwelcome intruders in my home. I have to act.

So I will kill them if I can, but I will try to do it in the most enlightened way possible. More likely, however, it will be because they were asking for it.
Loopholes
Black holes! They are among the scariest things in the universe, but as long as you don’t get your spacesuited butt on the wrong side of their event horizon, there’s no reason to let their presence in our galaxy upset your day-to-day life. You will probably not be stretched into a pink string then slammed into a space (approximately) eight billion times too small for you to fit in. So please, stop worrying.

Instead, why not think about white holes? Yes, white holes — with this crazy universe, it’s always something.

Readers of this blog will know that I am something of an expert when it comes to subatomic physics. And by “something of an expert” I mean that I have only the loosest grasp of its basic principles. Fortunately, it’s a free country, so let’s talk loops. These teeny-tiny things are at the very center of this business about white holes. We have Dr. Carlo Rovelli of Aix-Marseille University and his theory of loop quantum gravity to thank for that. He says that the plucky unsquashability of these loops (which are a lot like the memory foam in your Serta Perfect Sleeper) keeps a black hole from collapsing beyond a certain point. Not only that, they would provide a “quantum bounce” that would fling the matter back the way it came — out the black hole and into open space.

Since the effect is roughly the opposite of a black hole, they’re calling this explosive event a “white hole.” (I would have preferred “the universe yodeling groceries,” but the scientific community is notoriously prissy in their naming practices.) It has even been suggested that our Big Bang could have been a mega white hole that spewed the contents of a black hole so big that it had swallowed Everything That There Was.

I find this theory, despite its reliance on cosmic regurgitation, to be very comforting. For one thing, it tends to confirm my own Pulsating Nodes Theory of time and space and everything else (which has never received the attention it deserves). But more importantly, the loop quantum gravity construct seems to indicate that there are limits to how small things can be. Those little sub-subatomic loops are as teensy as it gets, and still they’re resilient enough to repel the impossibly huge weight of a collapsing star — or even of an entire universe! Kinda gives you hope, you know?

Of course, the theory also says that time is an illusion and death can be cheated, even if you’ve somehow gotten yourself stretched into that piece of pink string. That’s a little hard to swallow, even if you’re a black hole.
Dark Thoughts
I don’t think I’m a hater, but I find myself harboring an intense dislike for dark energy. Dark energy, if you don’t know, is the single largest physical entity in the universe. Though it is impossible to be sure, it might also be made completely of evil.

What we do know is that dark energy makes up 68% of all the stuff that exists. Number two is dark matter, which accounts for 27% of the remaining stuff. Beyond that, we know approximately jack about either one. What we do know something about — plain, old, everyday energy and reach-out-and-touch-it matter — amount to a mere 5% of the total.

That is troubling by itself, especially since the 5% we do know about is already bad enough. There are black holes lurking out there, and colliding galaxies, and colossal bursts of deadly radiation, to say nothing of unwanted hair. There are some nice things, of course, like puppies, but careful observation of the “known” universe over several millennia has shown that it is at least half bad.

Dark energy, by contrast, has only been on our radar for a couple of decades. Well, not on our radar exactly, because we still haven’t “seen” it or directly detected it in any way. It’s secretive, in other words; that alone is suspicious. All we’ve uncovered to date is some goofy behavior by light and matter that points to something enormous and mysterious operating out there in the void.

The beginnings of our awareness of dark energy date back to 1929 and the work of the astronomer Edwin Hubble. He observed then that our universe is not fixed and immutable, as had been thought, but rather expanding. But here’s the scary part: recently, that news was updated with the discovery that the rate of expansion is actually increasing. After Hubble, everyone had supposed that the expansion would surely slow down as the force of the universe’s own gravity would begin to draw everything back to the point of origin. Wrong again. Something else, it appears, is counteracting the powerful pull of gravity. “Dark energy” was the name given to that force — a force that must be so large that it made up two thirds of everything that is.

Thanks to dark energy, then, the end of the universe will come only when the last erg has been spent, when there is no light or movement anywhere, and all that is left are bits of nothingness dispersed across a limitless, icy void. That’s about all we know about dark energy: it’s big, and it’s killing the universe with agonizing slowness. I’d call that evil, wouldn’t you?

No, you say? You think that the end of the cosmos by a slow, lingering death is no worse than a universe that is destined to crash back into itself in an accelerating rewind of the Big Bang? We get smashed together and exploded, or we’re turned into our own, giant gravestone; what’s the difference? Either way, we and our little puppies are toast, right?

The difference for me is the utter desolation of the gravestone scenario. There’d be no bang and no whimper, either. Just a cold, dark, eternal un-universe. Dead forever, period. With the collapsing universe scenario, at least we have the hope of rebirth, a chance to exist again, maybe over and over and over. Now, however, with the dark discovery of this dark force that dominates everything, even that faint optimism is extinguished. What would rob us of all hope other than Satan himself?

No, I do not like dark energy, not one bit, and I am not eager to learn more about it. It’s been nothing but bad news so far, and it’s obviously hiding something even more monstrous. Why else would it be invisible? Science pushes on, though. NASA, along with the European Space Agency, is mounting several missions aimed at getting a clearer picture of this shy phenomenon. More precise measurements will be made of baryonic acoustic oscillations, and the scope of the search for weak gravitational lensing will be broadened. Pretty much what you’d expect, in other words.

And that’s okay, because it’s the job of science to do that. It’s not my job to like it, though. Whatever portrait they come with, I already hate its big, ugly face.
Fair is Fair
I may never get over the creepiness of my own government spying on me. Especially since the creepiness has been hot-dipped in a pool of outrage because I am actually paying for this betrayal.

Please don’t worry, the NSA says. We don’t track the content of calls, emails, tweets, postings, and other exercises of the freedom of speech. We’re not after you; we’re after the people who are after you. You know, the terrorists.

Okay, I get that. That’s what government is for, after all — to protect us from people who never learned how to be nice. I also get that, in an increasingly complicated world, solutions to our problems might need to be complicated, too. And that might mean that I need to trade off my right to privacy for safety’s sake. I’m even fine with that — as long as it’s a fair bargain.

Here’s what bothers me: not that my right to privacy went poof in the name of security, but that I’m not getting as much in return for it as I should. We’re all going to die someday, whether in bed or on board an exploding 747, and when we do, we’re done. But that disturbing photo of me — the one with the tarantula and the feather boa — could live forever on the internet if some nosey parker gets hold of it. If it weren’t for the NSA, that wouldn’t have been possible. So, in return for my lost privacy, I think I’m entitled to a little more…

For starters, I want the people behind those “Cardholder Services” robocalls hunted down and robocalled with a rototiller. The NSA can do that, can’t they?

Also, what ever happened Laneal McRory, my would-be, mostly-imaginary quasi-girlfriend from the seventh grade? I just want to know, that’s all.

My neighbor recently put up this new, strange-looking antenna. Is he part of the monstrous cabal that’s trying to control my thought waves with sonar? It would be a tremendous relief to know…one way or the other.

If it’s possible, I’d like the Swiss bank account numbers of the Wall Street rat-bastards who ripped off the country for billions back in 2008. No reason, just curious.

And while we’re at it, could I have the home phone of that s.o.b. who cut me off yesterday? I have some robocallers I’d like him to meet.

That should do it for now, I guess, although I’ll probably think of a few other things later. Come to think of it, I’d like the deal to include an option for me to ask for more private information about other people any time I want. The only new right that might make up for the loss of my right to privacy might be the right to know anything I want about anybody else forever and ever.

Fair is fair, after all, and the same goes for unfair.
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No "new normal" for me, this shit ain't normal.
~ MS, Truckee