Light my fire.
You that live in Pure Light
What fires we set here are
From our burning hearts;
Those whom You have
condemn’d to perdition
Know a little spill here,
And a little there will
Oil is not well that ends well, O lord.
I am too weak to set a mushroom cloud
But with fire burning in me,
let me do reverence to you.
Got a match on you,good ole’ Luciphor?
benny (no matches found)
Archive for May, 2010
I am quoting a news item from SPACE.com of 18 May
Why we Exist?
‘The experiment has shown a small — but significant — 1 percent difference between the amount of matter and antimatter produced, which could hint at how our matter-dominated existence came about.’The results, announced Tuesday, came from analyzing eight years worth of data from the Tevatron collider at the Department of Energy’s Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory in Batavia, Ill.
I think in my post A look into Miracle I had stated this as a fact. I imagined it and now it is proved right.
Anti-matter always gets the short end of the stick. In the transaction over the counter between positve and negative aspects, Life always settles for the positive.
Why, life is for those who shall invest for the good of greater numbers. Instead of complaining life is passing me by I post a blog or write a novel or amuse myself or others.
A miracle to a modern mind is inconvenient since he cannot break its hard exterior to reach what kernel it may carry within. Where he seeks order and assurance what his senses tell are all within reason anything that does not fit this rule is disconcerting. Miracle is one such.
There is another difficulty and it rather indicates how shallow man’s reliance on reason is. Miracles in popular mind is connected to the Scriptures. Having rejected religion as not consonant with his rational belief he is more likely to reject miracles. Such rejection from a preconceived standpoint does not make his necessity of reason any more than an attitude. He is a modern man with a mindset of some centuries backwards.
Let us for a moment speak of miracles without including God or of the scriptures. There are galaxies moving and it is very likely these moving galaxies may criss cross one another. These billions of stars do not collide. Is it not a marvel?
Think of the Big Bang. Hypothesis of inflation states that all of the observable universe originated in a small casually connected region. I am not an authority in cosmology but I understand there are vast regions that are void,-where matter is thin and there are some regions where matter clusters. Background radiation preceding from the first moment( some 14.5 billion years ago) reaches us still. What has created such deserts in Cosmos? We have not really understood the nature of our universe or the scaffolding that is already set in it. Whether universe expanding or contracting to a Big Crunch we have to accept exception to a general rule is the norm. Such anomaly of matter being evident in the atom (so quantum mechanics could be built on its own rules of probability) can we say miracles are impossible?
Matter has its opposite anti-matter. Naturally annihilation must be a certainty when matter collides with antimatter. But universe is not annihilated because conditions that govern such destruction seldom occurs. It is as though a safety clause is built into the very heart of an atom. Anomalies of matter is a clause to keep the superstructure from falling under its very weight. (In the matter of voids and regions where matter clusters, are the voids some kind of nurseries for debris or to absorb all such shocks since cosmos is a field where stars die violently and give birth to new stars?)
As it seems to me such a safety clause is a positive aspect and an Absolute number to safeguard the infinite numbers (events,ideas, people or being) from completely overturning the few. Thus Hitler who had vowed to annihilate an entire race will be thrown down by causes that have no bearing on the few. Some may assume the few stands for the Jews. It is as correct as the Poles who would say their long cherished dream of sovereignty was preserved by ‘historical imperative’ and it is anomalous nature of matter.
Nature holds tricks that defies reason and confuses who impute God as an intervening deity to further their narrow ends. The Jews after the formation of Israel defends unlawful claim on Palestininan land on God’s promise to Abraham. Only events shall prove who is right. When Hitler was in full control there were so many who truly believed he represented the wave of future. Hitler claimed a 1000 year Reich but could only do damage for 13 years. In terms of yawning history running in millennia his reign was only a sneeze!
Miracles in nature exist and works for each of us; only that we are inadequate to explain why.
I am giving an extract from my current novel.
Outline: Death of old King Tristan in a hunting accident. Ghost runners make their appearance.
It was the beginning of spring. The old king Tristan of Gothenburg along with his knights moved towards the Gilbarden fen that marked the western boundary of his kingdom.On the Western side of the Wolverine castle he had marked vast expanse of grasslands as his royal preserve. There his livestock grazed fattened on juicy grass and it also attracted herds of caribou. This was what got him out that day. He had promised his son a caribou head and it was all that mattered. Even as the sun declined and the landscape was beginning to take a spectral aspect all he could think of was his trophy. He was yet to spot one.
At last one stumbled in his sight. It was a monster of a caribou. ‘He belongs to me,- alone!’ shouted the king waving away those who had come closer. He had it right before him that moment, its eyes locked with his. It snorted as though it made his kingly ambition as trivial pursuit. It cared not a whit for the weapons nor for the stalwarts intent on their game. It was the master and it asserted its superiority in a terrain, ringed by sedge and peat bogs. It made a stir and shot past wild rushes. Never had such a worthy opponent set the king keen on bringing it down. He felt mocked by its brute vitality. It had him on the run and he lost it among the swirling mists.
He knew the sun was on decline. By night the terrain was treacherous. But he hadn’t given up. Dismounting from his horse he and his party moved forward. He heard clicking sound, and it was a tell-tale sign. The monster walked behind the mist and vapors that oozed from the bogs. The curtain would lift soon he knew. He had his long spear in his grip. It lay easy and snug. He motioned his warriors to back off. It had taunted him. It was an insult. He wanted all the more to fell the monster himself. The melting ice by spring had shown patches of lichen turquoise and yellow .The wet balls of velvet of many summers he kicked aside. A slight breeze, and the vaporous mist lifted. There he stood a caribou bull some 7′ feet high to shoulder. In quick glance he knew it should weigh at least 400 kilo. Unconcerned at being seen it stooped to munch lichens that gleamed wet and succulent. The king made a cautious step and tensed. The caribou paused, staring at him and carelessly shook its antlers. It was as though it dared him. He made a step forward at which the beast tensed. The king was determined. He let go his spear and he lunged forward to catch the handle in recoil. It had found its mark! He felt splash of blood and it was warm. Before the beast heaved in pain charging blindly he had to finish the job. He made a move to get his hand-axe from his leather thong that held his tunic. Before he could extricate it the beast turned and charged towards him. He sidestepped to plunge the short thick blade into the head. He could only lodge it on the cheek but it had cut into a vein and blood spurted in thick jets. A soft moan and the caribou wheeled to side. A sudden stab of pain cut through his own cheek. A point of its antlers had gored through his matted white locks into his cheek. It hurt. He was brought down under the weight of the beast. In throbbing pain he struggled unable to throw off the cascading shoulder,body rump and all. Then went everything dark. But for the ten warriors the king would have choked to death in the bogs plowed around in slush and blood.
Soon the king gained consciousness. One dressed his wounds with tincture of pine oil and covered with birch barks. His eyes gained its lustre. When offered wine he made a libation to the fallen beast and drank the remains in one gulp. He handed over the wine horn to his valet and ordered to have the skins carefully saved. He insisted the head should be carefully cut. It was his present for his son Mark who had turned eighteen. He felt elated. He ordered his party to strike eastward for his castle. One wagon was reserved for his trophy and it followed in the rear. It was night and under the massing stars the party cantered to an easy gallop.
Some twenty leagues on the king felt strangely light headed and he saw glow worms flitting about marking strange patterns on the enveloping gloom. The king riding on his piebald horse casually wiped his nose with back of his hand and he saw blood. He thought it nothing serious. His thoughts were making a weave of his son and his daughter. The glowworms had become a swarms and their luminescent calligraphy were profuse with whorls and curlicues that struck him as bizarre. His right cheek throbbed with pain. Knight Jonas Rood who rode to his side to inquire saw the gash too. It was dressed. Yet there spilled out strange luminescent blue and white lights. The knight gasped to see flecks of red dots of light furiously charging about as though it claimed dominance. The blues and whites had petered out and the cheek was swathed under one cloud of red light. Jonas Rood gasped,’Ghost runners!’ and fainted. Even when the party reached the place gate the king’s hands held the reins and the horse knew his master. He trotted surefooted through the gate into the palace and into the hall that was built in stone chiseled and molded after the Romanesque style.. The horse and his master trotted through passage ways paved in flagstones, followed by a gasping rally of menials. The horse stood only when the prince Mark and his sister followed by a ghastly pale Queen came towards it. The king was dead and only a nasty slash on his cheek and stains of blood on his gloved hand struck menacing. One would have thought he was asleep on the horse.
A silent scream struck terror on the royal household to see three or four light points blue and white cartwheel about the dead king’s head and glide into the cold night.
Ghost runners had come visiting.
‘Chemical extracts from cigarette butts — so toxic they kill fish — can be used to protect steel pipes from rusting, a study in China has found.
In a paper published in the American Chemical Society’s bi-weekly journal Industrial & Engineering Chemistry Research, the scientists in China said they identified nine chemicals after immersing cigarette butts in water.
They applied the extracts to N80, a type of steel used in oil pipes, and found that they protected the steel from rusting.
University’s School of Energy and Power Engineering and funded by China’s state oil firm China National Petroleum Corporation.’ Here I extracted Reuters news of this day.
So cigarette butts have industrial uses. For countries trying to forge ahead of others this is good news.
Bad news is for humans whose lungs may collapse befor time.
When a fast buck is to be made who thinks of losers?
Billions of cigarette butts have to be found in Advanced countries in order to make this finding feasible. Besides collecting from all over the country is at prohibitive cost. It may prove impossible to put into use.
There are some thousands of refugees from developing nations trying to get in. A New Conservative government in UK may want to apply stringent laws regarding immigration. This news may make some stir in the corridors of Westminster.
Maybe other countries also will take this finding to heart. They can increase their industrial clout by enforcing new laws. Only those who can produce thousand cigarette butts on entry will be eligible to apply for refugee status.
Hope I am proved wrong.
The last Ziegfeld Follies Girl has died.
Doris Eaton Travis, one of the legendary Ziegfeld Follies chorus girls, of the early 1900s, died Tuesday at age 106.
She continued to work long after her Follies days ended, with annual appearances on Broadway, a small role in a Jim Carrey movie and a memoir, “The Days We Danced: The Story of My Theatrical Family From Florenz Ziegfeld to Arthur Murray and Beyond.”
By then, the Ziegfeld Follies had become an entertainment staple. Inspired by the Folies Bergeres in Paris, Ziegfeld Follies was part Broadway show, part Vaudeville, featuring top entertainers such as W.C. Fields, Eddie Cantor, Fanny Brice and Will Rogers. Juicing up the show were beautiful female dancers who performed elaborate chorus numbers composed by Irving Berlin and who wore costumes by Art Deco designer and illustrator Erte.
Travis nabbed a part in the chorus of the “Ziegfeld Follies of 1918,” and Travis became the youngest Ziegfeld Follies Girl when she was hired at age 14. She became a principal dancer in 1920. She was like so many other affected by the stock marker crash of 29. With so many theaters folding up she must have found difficulty in finding a regular job.
May her soul rest in peace. We have lost a kindly soul espcially her skill in dancing must have kindly distracted great many who had to live through wars,depression etc.,
Ziegfeld Follies was more important to the progress of the world than Hitler’s follies. Think of great many talents the Ziegveld Follies polished! Their combined output one may say defined the American cultural landscape of the early 20th century.
(Ack:TOM McELROY, Associated Press Writer/May 12)