Proof that Math is Cool.
Note: Our first son
, Oliver, is due July 20, 2012, but my wife and I would like him to be get here sooner rather than later, as we really want to meet him. (Also, the 100-degree heat-indices have been no fun for her at all.) We’ve attempted to communicate this to him in many ways (speaking, light signals, semaphore) but we’ve received no response. To that end, we have decided to serve him with somewhat fanciful eviction papers.
NOTICE OF EVICTION (for a fetus), with amendments/explanations
LANDLORD(S): Kayli Schaaf, Mother and Brett Ortler, Father
Address: Your mother’s womb
City State Zip: Wherever your mother is; usually somewhere in east-central Minnesota
Phone: Your mother’s womb has no phone, but it does have an umbilical cord that could theoretically function as one. Anyway, given that fetuses can be startled by loud noises, we know you can hear our repeated attempts to encourage you to enter the world.
TENANT:
Name: Oliver William Ortler
Address/City State Zip/Phone: We have already discussed this, see above.
District Court Summary Ejectment Case Number: 00000001. (Also, ejectment is an awful, awful word.)
TENANT:
The sheriff (your father wearing a sheriff’s hat) is scheduled to evict you on July 20, 2010 2012, your due date.
The eviction will take place on the date named above unless you either:
1. Move out of the property and return control of the property (your mother’s uterus region, in addition to secondary aspects of the property: her hormones, her bladder, her personality, etc.) to the landlord;
or
2. Pay and Stay. The tenant has the right to pay the amount ordered by the Court (your mother) in the warrant of restitution to the landlord to stop the eviction. However, the Court would really like to go through with the eviction, so to dissuade you from paying this amount, the Court hereby demands 100 trillion American dollars, 65 rubies, an 8” x 5” platinum dinosaur and 120 boxes of Little Debbie Snacks. Your father demands an aircraft carrier full of wooly mammoths. The Court also demands as much ice cream as you can possibly purchase with your remaining funds. The tenant has the right to pay the redemption amount to the landlord (your mother) or landlord’s agent (your father) in cash, certified check, money order, or Skittles-brand candy at any time before actual execution of the eviction order. (Note: Placentas, umbilical cords and/or amniotic fluid will NOT be accepted in lieu of payment because that would be very gross.)
Addendum: As an additional incentive for you to leave the premises, we will actually pay you to come into the world. We have already prepared (1) a place for you to stay, your accommodations have (2) many toys, (3) many adorable outfits, (4) two pet dogs and two pet cats, (so you don’t even have to beg us to get you one) and we have also notified our friends and family about your imminent arrival, so you already have your own entourage. Addendum to the Addendum: Once you make your grand appearance in the world, your schedule will likely be booked up for some time; your grandparents are already reserving weekend babysitting time slots months in advance. Once you are born, we recommend you immediately hire an executive assistant.
On the day of eviction, the payment shall be made to the landlord or landlord’s agent in the presence of the Sheriff to stop the eviction.
Warning:
Once the sheriff begins the eviction, any personal property that you leave in the leased premises is considered abandoned. The tenant does not have any right to re-enter the property or re-claim any property after the eviction begins.
Addendum: Please pay special attention to that last part. You may not, however much you liked the womb, attempt to re-enter the “property.” That would undoubtedly scar the entire family for life.
Any abandoned property may be disposed of by the landlord at any time after the eviction begins. The landlord is strictly prohibited from putting the abandoned property in the street, the sidewalk, alleys, or any public property.
Addendum: We will most certainly dispose of any abandoned property, because anyone who wants to keep a placenta hanging around (literally) is more than a bit off. We certainly promise not to deposit it in the street, where people would probably mistake it for some sort of deceased jellyfish.
This is the final notice of the date of the eviction that you will receive, even if the eviction date is postponed by the sheriff or the court or due to medical necessity.
AFFIDAVIT OF POSTING: I hereby certify that I posted a completed copy of the above notice on the premises (Kayli’s stomach) described above on 7/12/2012.
Printed Name: __________________ Signature: ___________________ Date: ___________
A Funny Letter to the Higgs-Boson
Dear Higgs Boson:
As I’m sure you’re aware, you were recently discovered by the folks at the Large Hadron Collider. So, now that we’ve found you, my first question is a bit obvious: You’re a hermit, right? If so, do you live in some sort of particle shack?
Anyway, given your hermitage, I bet you’ve missed out on a lot of the news. First and foremost, the media somewhat inexplicably dubbed you “the god particle.” Scientists tried to correct them and say that you were important, but not that important. I mean, it’s not like that you’re flying around and bringing things into existence on a Genesis-like schedule. (You’re not, right?)
The journalists ran with it, so now the scientists just cringe when they hear it. I’m not a scientist, but I agree that the “god particle” is a really silly name. It’s not like there weren’t other options. I mean, if they wanted to stick with the religious metaphors, maybe the media could call you the Blessed Pope John Paul II particle or the Very Reverend Higgs-Boson.
Given that you’re a pop-culture phenomenon already (you have your own iPhone game), I think we should give you a rap name instead. Here are a few options I came up with:
H.I.G.
H-Boson and His Crew of 125.3 gigaelectron volts
BigHiggy
The Dawg Particle
Needless to say, the “god particle” name has to go. What if we discover some particle more befitting of the name—say, a bearded world-creating particle—when the LHC eventually revs up to full power? I know that’s not particularly likely, but I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to inform the deity particle that its proper name is already taken. Two words: Particle wrath.
By the way, I’m sure the PR people at CERN are pretty darn careful about their spelling. After all, one wouldn’t want to refer to the Large Hardon Collider. That sounds like a terrible, terrible project. And painful. (Yes, that joke was off-color, but it had to be made. When such jokes present themselves like that, you have to take it. Just like free cake.)
Dirty jokes aside: Higgs, you probably missed all the hilarious drama about the whole LHC facility to begin with. Long story short: A couple of know-nothings sued in an attempt to prevent the Large Hadron Collider from commencing operation. They made a number of wild accusations, most notably that the LHC would create “strangelets” or “micro black holes” that would lead to the destruction of the planet.
The funny part is, in their legal brief they said the following about the particle collisions at the LHC: Various competing theories of physics predict various outcomes from these collisions, with no agreement amongst physicists as to what the outcome will be.
Almost immediately after this, they make a number of very, very specific claims about what could happen. Their argument is, in effect: Stop the LHC because we don’t know that it won’t cause these really bad things to happen.
Higgs, if this is the standard of proof necessary to stop a scientific experiment, we’re in trouble. After all, it’s not impossible that the LHC could produce other equally improbable (but good!) results: onions that don’t taste awful (I hate onions), porcupines that give pain-free hugs, or pop songs with meaningful, thoughtful lyrics. So I say, we must keep the Higgs going because it might produce these awesome, but wholly improbable, results.
Clearly, Higgs, one needs evidence to substantiate one’s claims, and fear alone is not evidence. While the plaintiffs had a very basic point—we don’t know what’ll happen!—it wasn’t the point they thought. While there are certainly competing theories about subatomic physics, that’s exactly the reason the LHC was built in the first place: to figure some of this stuff out.
Besides, we have a pretty good idea what we are doing. We’ve been smashing atoms for decades, and higher-energy collisions happen all the time in outer space. If they did create micro black holes or strangelets, you think we’d notice.
Not surprisingly, the silly lawsuit was thrown out post-haste. (My favorite part was that they filed their suit in Hawaii, though the LHC is located in France/Switzerland. That’s like suing Mexico to get the Canadians to stop playing hockey.)
Anyway, now that you’re discovered: Welcome! We look forward to getting to know all about you.
Take care,
Brett Ortler
The Higgs Boson from Particle Zoo, Courtesy of http://www.particlezoo.net
A Litany Science Roundup
The Folks at CERN and the Large Hadron Collider seem to have a boatload of evidence suggesting they’ve spotted the Higgs Boson, the famed subatomic particle that may go a long way to furthering our understanding of physics. They will be making an announcement on Wednesday.
Stateside, the folks at Fermilab made a little noise with their own announcement and indicated with some confidence that they’ve spotted it, too. (This is sort of a last hurrah for the Fermilab, which was shut down late last year.) Taking all of that together, while an outright “discovery” is not likely to be claimed (yet), it’s looking like a pretty good bet that the Higgs is out there somewhere.
If you can’t wait to get outright proof that the Higgs exists, you can actually get a plush version of it (and dozens of other plush subatomic particles) at The Particle Zoo. They are absolutely adorable.
Lego ATLAS model, photo courtesy of Sacha Mehlhase
Speaking of the LHC, it has also been memorialized in Lego form. Sascha Mehlhase, a scientist at the Niels Bohr Center’s Discovery Institute has created a Lego version of the ATLAS Detector at the LHC. It is, in short, amazing. Read more all about it here or see the official page here.
While the wife and I are certainly not doomsday preppers, we’ve been a fan of post-apocalyptic movies/TV for as long as I can remember. Jericho, Walking Dead, Falling Skies, you name it: We generally love it. I’ve always been fascinated–and utterly terrified–of nuclear weapons. So I occasionally read about nuclear physics and the like, and when I do I sometimes stumble on some interesting reading.
Two examples: The first is a report created for the government about the damage an EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse) attack would cause. The cool part is–instead of simply theorizing about damage–they tested actual equipment under the conditions of an attack.
The results were kind of surprising, at least compared to what end-of-the-world-we’re-all-gonna-die-shows tell you.
A few fun facts: Not all cars will go dead. Even some relatively newer models (early 2000s) may survive, and damage they sustain would usually (but not always) be relatively minor. Even better, cars that are not running probably won’t be affected at all. (Note: This all may not be true when it comes to so-called Super-EMP devices, however.)
Also: Microwaves are de facto Faraday cages. As I understand it, they are actually inside-out ones, built to keep EM radiation (in this case, microwaves) in. This explains why microwave doors often have wire mesh embedded in them. (EM radiation will travel through glass, but the wire will essentially divert the EM energy). This means they’d probably help you save your Droid in a pinch. Downside? You’ll never to get have service again.
The Second Example is an old Civil Defense Booklet: Fallout Protection, produced at the height of the Cold War. Interesting, but grim, reading.
At the end of the workdays in the summer, I often get a bit antsy. That’s not because I’m excited to go fishing or head up north, it’s because I want to hunt—for agates. One of my favorite places to agate hunt is at a local landscaping company, and they close promptly at 5 p.m., so if I want to get some quality hunting in, I have to keep an eye on the clock.
I live toward the northern reaches of what is referred to as the “Anoka sand plain” and it’s as depressing as it sounds: it is largely devoid of rocks. To further compound my agate misery, my wife and I almost never have time to drive up to the prime agate-hunting territory near the North Shore. Nevertheless, thanks to local landscaping companies, I’m still able to hunt for agates.
Landscaping companies sell Lake Superior gravel, which is mined from gravel deposits left behind by the glaciers. This gravel is used for a variety of different purposes, including as a decorative stone, as roofing gravel, and for road construction. Because of liability concerns, obtaining permission to hunt at landscaping companies can be tricky, so expect to be rejected. If you persist and ask around enough, however, you’ll likely find somewhere to hunt. When you do, Lake Superior gravel is often labeled “river rock”; be sure to search amid reasonably large sized stones, I prefer searching in 1½” river rock. That way, when you find an agate, it’s sure to have some heft to it.
Good hunting!
Dear Oliver,
Well, I haven’t written as often as I would have liked, as we’ve been pretty busy lately. You’ll be happy to know that we completed your astro-nursery last week, and we’re getting the remaining items in place for your arrival.
When we completed the nursery, I gave you the tour, but since you are still inside your mom, you probably couldn’t see much, unless you have x-ray vision. If you have x-ray vision, please don’t use it to judge my physique. I’m not exactly proud of it at this moment. While I have managed to stay in relatively good shape, your mother and I have gained some weight. This is often referred to as “sympathy weight,” but I think it should be referred to as “the inevitable caloric outcome that arises when one consumes an absolutely staggering amount of ice cream in the space of nine months.”
You see, your mother has been eating fairly healthy food during your development, but if she has one weakness, it is ice cream. We have had ice cream of all varieties: malts, milkshakes, sundaes, Dairy Queen cakes (the giant birthday kind as well as the smaller log-shaped ones), ice cream sandwiches, and even some gelato. (Gelato, by the way, is the Italian word for “expensive.”)
Most of ice cream has come from Dairy Queen, an establishment I view with a combination of trepidation and desire. Desire, of course, because their ice cream concoctions are absolutely delicious; trepidation, because I have a rough idea of the many miles I’ll have to run to get back into good shape after you’re born.
In fact, I am thinking of writing Dairy Queen a letter and asking them to make a line of products specifically for pregnant women.
Some of those product names could be fun. You could have Sondaes, Third Trimester Toffee Treats, maybe Dirty Diaper Dilly Bars. (OK, that last one was kind of gross, but I couldn’t help myself.)
Speaking of Dairy Queen, a piece of advice: On the rare and lovely occasions when we get a Dairy Queen Cake in the house, never try to steal your mother’s portion of the chocolatey/fudge part at the center of the cake. I once made the mistake of trying to do this, and she tried to stab me with a fork. That was when she wasn’t pregnant. I’m pretty sure if I tried that now, I’d end up a quadruple amputee.
Since we’re speaking about food and pregnant women: a quick note. Despite all that you’ll hear to the contrary, in my experience, pregnant women do not crave pickles. That is a myth. They certainly do not like hearing jokes about pickles, either. Anytime someone mentions these alleged pickle cravings, your mother becomes visibly upset. I’m fairly confident that if such a would-be pickle wit continued with the cucumber-related comedy, your mother would attack.
This is unlike your mother. Unless she is watching the Vikings lose, your mother is not a violent person. Nevertheless, she is pregnant. That means she’s constantly hungry, pretty much always in pain, and jacked up on hormones like you wouldn’t believe. In this respect, she is like a mama bear. (Of course, she doesn’t have fur, claws, or weigh 800 pounds. Still, you get the point.)
Moreover, her motivations are decidedly ursine. As the bear expert Lynn Rogers said, the lives of bears “are ruled by fear and food, in that order.” If I were to get hit by an ice cream truck and were trapped beneath it, I have no doubt she would spring into action, lifting it off of me in one monumental move. Then she would eat all of the ice cream inside it, and if she were still hungry and we were in a post-apocalyptic scenario where cannibalism was more socially acceptable, perhaps the driver as well.
Of course, I’m joking about that last part, but watching the whole process has been quite surprising, and your mom has gone through a lot of trouble to hatch you. I therefore think it’d be nice if your first words were “thank you”; when you say it, you should say it directly at your mom.
Your first words to me could perhaps be “DINOSAURS!” or “Fire the photon torpedoes, PEW PEW PEW” or something similarly awesome. (OK, I realize that you’ll likely start with one-syllable words, but a father can dream, right?)
I can’t wait to meet you, little dude.
Take care,
Dad
