A spectacular photo from a NASA telescope has revealed a wispy blue nebula with an odd twist: It looks like a giant human head in deep space.
The head-in-space nebula photo was snapped by NASA's Galaxy Evolution Explorer satellite and shows an ultraviolet view of the so-called Cygnus Loop nebula, which is located 1,500 light-years from Earth in the constellation Cygnus, the Swan. It was released March 22 and featured this week on NASA's website.
What makes the new Cygnus Loop image striking is its odd shape. The nebula looks like a giant human head and neck, which appear in profile facing the left of the image. A bright star serves as an eye while wispy nebula gas traces the outline of jaw, and close-cropped hair.
[Gaius (Caligula)] never missed a chance of securing loot: setting aside a suite of Palace rooms, he decorated them worthily, opened a brothel, stocked it with married women and free-born boys, and then sent his pages around the squares and public halls, inviting all men, of whatever age, to come and enjoy themselves. Those who appeared were lent money at interest, and clerks openly wrote down their names under the heading 'Contributors to the Imperial Revenue'.
I was going to do an image search for "Roman prostitute", but I thought better of it. Here's an Italian dog instead:
As [Julius Caesar] stood, in two minds, an apparition of superhuman size and beauty was seen sitting on the river bank playing a reed pipe. A party of shepherds gathered around to listen and, when some of Caesar's men, including some of the trumpeters, broke ranks to do the same, the apparition snatched a trumpet from one of them, ran down to the river, blew a thunderous blast, and crossed over. Caesar exclaimed: 'Let us accept this as a sign from the Gods, and follow where they beckon, in vengeance on our double-dealing enemies. The die is cast.'
This, of course, is the famous crossing of the River Rubicon, the historical border of Rome beyond which generals could not take their standing armies on pain of death. By crossing this boundary with his soldiers, Julius Caesar was committing an act of treason that was fully punishable by Roman law, and the only way to escape execution was for Caesar to depose the current government and seize control for himself. It was, quite literally, a point of no return.
Famously, Caesar did cross the Rubicon (apparently at the urging of an impetuous, musical ghost). He won Rome, set up an empire, proclaimed himself perpetual dictator, and became a force that would shape the development of Western civilization. And, in the process, he also coined a succinct and useful phrase that thrives even today.
The National Ignition Facility (NIF) -- a laser test facility at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in Livermore, Calif. -- turned on its 192 laser beams for a brief instant on March 15, unleashing a record-setting 1.875-megajoule blast into a target chamber.
The lasers were combined, gathered and focused through a series of lens into a 2.03-megajoule shot, said Ed Moses, NIF director -- a record for the facility.
That pulse of energy lasted for just 23 billionths of a second, yet it generated 411 trillion watts of power, NIF said -- 1,000 times more than the entire United States consumes at any given instant.
Seriously, though, there is a practical application for this.
In fission, atoms are split and the massive energy released is captured. The NIF aims for fusion, the ongoing energy process in the sun and other stars where hydrogen and helium nuclei are continually fusing and releasing enormous amounts of energy. In the ignition facility, beams of light converge on pellets of hydrogen isotopes to create a similar, though controlled, micro-explosion.
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Because the laser is on for the merest fraction of a second, it costs little to operate -- between $5 and $20 per blast, said spokeswoman Lynda Seaver. But the potential is enormous.
NIF’s managers hope by the end of the year to reach a break-even point, where the energy released is equal to if not greater than the energy that went into the blast.
It's a tricky, dicey endeavor, what they're doing with those lasers, and I'm not sure if it violates the basic principles of physics or not. But the payoffs could be huge, especially in the power-generation industry. And isn't that what science ultimately is for?
Due to arrive Friday amid tight security during his weekend visit, Pope Benedict XVI will spend time in the state of Guanajuato, about 200 miles from Mexico City, before flying to Cuba on Monday.
“It’s like the Bible Belt of Mexico,” said Dr. Katsuo Ishikawa, political science professor at Trinity University. “People are very Catholic and care a lot about religion.”
Yet the area also is known as the territory of the Knights Templar and La Familia Michoacana, feuding drug cartels that also claim to have religious roots.
Both have now declared a truce in banners on display in the region ahead of the papal visit.
“I felt that they were serious and they were going to keep their word,” said Dr. Miguel Bedolla, the interim dean at the Mexican American Catholic College in San Antonio. “But, I was very surprised.”
Having now won all Pompey's friends, and most of the Senate, to his side with loans at a low rate of interest, or interest-free, [Julius Caesar] endeared himself to persons of less distinction too by handing out valuable presents, whether or not they asked for them.
Shorter version: "Hey, I'm doing you a favor today. Remember that, because someday I might need a favor, too."
Nice place you've got here. Be a shame if something were to happen to it.
At last a series of insulting edicts signed by Vindex must have made some impression on [Nero] ... . Only two taunts went home: a suggestion that he was a bad lyre-player, and an insulting reference to him as 'Ahenobarbus', rather than Nero Caesar. Yet he told the Senate that he intended to renounce his adoptive name, which was now being mocked, and resume that of his family; as for his lyre-playing, he replied that he could hardly deserve Vindex's taunt (which proved the other accusations just as false) after his long and painstaking cultivation of the art; and asked a number of people from time to time whether they knew of any better performer than himself.
Of course he wasn't a bad lyre-player! He knew the lyre like anyone else. Better even. He practiced!
And, he was Nero.
So, if Vindex was wrong about his lyre-playing (evident from Nero's long hours of practice), then of course he was wrong about everything else about Nero.
Of course he was wrong. Do you know of any better performer? Well, do you?
Because the Jews at Rome caused continuous distubances at the instigation of Chrestus (i.e., apparently Christ, who had been crucified in the reign of Tiberius), [Claudius] expelled them from the city.
At least Claudius merely expelled the Christians. Nero had an entirely different way of dealing with them.
It's been ages since I last read this book, possibly even since I was a child. And though I generally like Ray Bradbury (and count The Martian Chronicles as one of the most influential science fiction books I have read) I remember not liking this particular book very much when I read it in the past. So, when I found this copy in an old box while doing some recent cleaning, I decided to give it another try.
And you know what? I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I liked it better this time around. Maybe it's because I'm older and I'm a father myself, so I can relate a little better to the father/son dynamic that is core to the story. Or maybe it's because I've developed my reading skills over the years and can appreciate Bradbury's turns of phrase more. Whatever the reason, I really found Something Wicked This Way Comes far more entertaining as an adult than I did as a child.
Also, I saw the movie based on this book back when it came out in 1983, and I remember not being impressed by it, especially after I was completely enthralled by the TV mini-series version of The Martian Chronicles. I think I was initially put off by the casting of Will and Jim, the main characters of the story. In the novel, the boys are thirteen years old, going on fourteen. But in the movie they are more like nine or ten years old. That's a big difference in boy years, and I don't think the younger versions of Will and Jim fit the story very well. After that initial disappointment, I don't think I was willing to give the rest of the movie a chance.
But, I admit that I could see it in a different light these days, just like with the novel. I think I should give that movie another try. Perhaps.
Sometimes all you need to solve a particularly pesky problem is a solution as low-tech as balls and chains. And very smelly, messy brooms.
JAKARTA, Indonesia -- Indonesia has another bizarre way to keep commuters off the roofs of trains: swat them with brooms drenched in putrid goop.
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Indonesia has tried just about everything to keep passengers from clamoring atop trains that crisscross its main island of Java: spraying them with paint guns, calling in sniffer dogs, and asking for help from Muslim clerics.
The first tactic that worked was deployed last month.
Grapefruit-sized concrete balls were suspended on chains from a frame that looks like a soccer goal. "Rail surfers," realizing they could be knocked in the head or even killed, quickly called it quits.
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Buoyed by that success, railway officials decided to try the brooms as well.
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Sujadi, who didn't disclose the ingredients of the smelly goop, said he was unaffected by criticism for all the strange and strict security measures.
"Some people say its inhumane, but that's fine," he said. "Because letting them ride on the roofs is even more inhumane."
Domitian had a ruddy complexion; large, rather weak eyes; and a modest expression. He was tall and well-made, except for his feet which had hammer-toes. Later, he lost his hair and developed a paunch; and, as a result of protracted illness, his legs grew spindling. He took as a personal insult any reference, joking or otherwise, to bald men, being extremely sensitive about his own baldness ... .
Red-faced, bald, and with ugly feet. It's a wonder he got a wife as good-looking as he did.
Throughout the entire struggle [the civil war] not a single Caesarian deserted, and many of them, when taken prisoners, preferred death to the alternative of serving with the Pompeians. Such was their fortitude in facing starvation and other hardships, both as besiegers and as besieged, that when Pompey was shown at Dyrrhachium the substitute for bread, made of grass, on which they were feeding, he exclaimed: 'I am fighting wild beasts!' Then he ordered the loaf to be hidden at once, not wanting his men to find out how tough and resolute the enemy were, and so lose heart.
That is pretty hard-core, though I suppose Pompey could have used the same loaf of grass bread to demonstrate to his soldiers how close the Caesarians were to defeat. After all, how much longer can an army of men keep fighting with nothing more than grass to sustain them? They would eventually weaken, and as long as the Pompeians had adequate supplies they would be sure to prevail. Eventually.
But Pompey didn't prevail. He lost in the end, and Rome was won by Julius Caesar, to be transformed from a republic into the new Roman Empire, ushering in a new age of complete, dictatorial, tyrannical domination of the world's greatest power at the time.
Well, what did you expect? They were eating grass, for Pete's sake!
Titus died at the age of forty-one, in the same country house where Vespasian had also died. It was 1 September, A.D. 81, and he had reigned two years, two months, and twenty days. When the news spread, the entire population went into mourning as though they had suffered a personal loss. Senators hurried to the House without waiting for an official summons, and before the doors had been opened, and then when they were open, began speaking of him, now that he was dead, with greater thankfulness and praise than they had ever used while he was alive and among them.
Titus, no doubt, was a great emperor as far as the ancient Romans were concerned. But they could have at least let him know that while he was still alive.
[Julius] Caesar was the first Roman to build a military bridge across the Rhine and cause the Germans on the farther bank heavy losses. He also invaded Britain, a hitherto unknown country, and defeated the natives, from whom he exacted a large sum of money as well as hostages for future good behaviour.
I remember seeing a documentary piece on that bridge Julius built over the Rhine. At the time it was considered a technological wonder (and, for all I know, such a bridge today would still be a wonder) because it was built over the Rhine in order to accommodate the Roman army.
Not just a wagon or two, but an entire army of bad-ass Romans eager to kick some German butt.
Before this bridge was built the Germanic tribes remained largely unmolested by the Romans because of the natural defensive line the Rhine provided, giving them a sense of security on their side of the river. But Julius Caesar said, Screw that. If I'm going to show these Germans who's really the boss, I'm going to need to get serious and build me a REAL bridge, one that will leave them slack-jawed while I march into their county like I owned the place.
And build it, he did. He crossed the bridge and kicked a few things down. And then, to show those barbarians that the Romans were hardcore enough to do pretty much whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, he marched his army back across the bridge and dismantled it behind him.
And then a couple of years later, he did it again. Just as a reminder.
His strategy largely paid off. It made the Germanic tribes rethink how they handled the Romans, perhaps convincing them that if Caesar was batty enough to build such infrastructure only to immediately tear it down (twice!) just to show that he could, then perhaps he was just batty enough to do anything he wanted to them.
And then, he conquered Britain. In a manner of speaking.
Titus also assumed command of the Guards [before becoming emperor], a post which had always before been entrusted to a knight, and in which he behaved somewhat high-handedly and tyrannically. If anyone aroused his suspicion, Guard detachments would be sent into theatre or camp to demand the man's punishment as if by the agreement of everyone present; and he would then be executed without delay.
Domitian was not merely cruel, but cunning and sudden into the bargain. He summoned a Palace steward to his bedroom, invited him to join him on his couch, and made him feel perfectly secure and happy, condescended to share a dinner with him -- yet had him crucified on the following day! ... And the abuse he iniflicted on his subjects' patience was all the more offensive because he prefaced all his most savage sentences with the same speech about mercy; indeed, this lenient preamble soon became a recognized sign that something dreadful was on the way.
Have you heard the old saying about not trusting Greeks, even when bearing gifts? I suppose the same could be said for the descendants of Troy, too.
That's bad. The few people I've known that have come down with lymphoma have died. I hope Iommi survives it, I really do. I would miss him.
The stage in my life where I spent much of my free time and my extra money going to as many concerts as I could -- from small rock clubs to large, pyrotechnic arena shows -- began and ended with Tony Iommi. From the first time I saw Black Sabbath in 1984 to the last time I saw that band in 1999, Iommi laid out the dark chords for me and made me love loud music. And Black Sabbath has been a part of my musical preferences ever since.
Black Sabbath is undoubtedly one of the most influential bands of all time, and Iommi has always been the heart of that ensemble, the only constant in a band that proved to be both innovative and dysfunctional at the very same time. I love his unique, heavy style, and I think all of metal owes him much gratitude.
I recognize that not every metalhead finds Iommi's guitar work easy to listen to. But without him and his crazy, left-handed, two-leathered-fingertipped way of playing there would be no black metal today. There would be no doom metal, no death metal. And, dare I say, no real heavy metal at all. Oh, there was hard rock back in the 1970s, sure, and without Black Sabbath and Tony Iommi that hard rock eventually would have developed and grown into something like heavy metal, but there is no way that metal would have been anything like what we have today. Not without Iommi. His dark chords and low tuning have burned a template into the realm of rock that headbangers still use to this day.
I hate to gush like a fanboy, but I really do think that much of Iommi. And I hope he has all the strength and support he needs to pull through this personal crisis. I certainly hope the best for him.
I hadn't heard Johnny Cash's "Cocaine Blues" in a very long time. But, in the process of dragging out some Cash recordings to introduce the departed singer to my young son, I came across this song and several others of a rather rough nature.
And they took me back to a time when I was a young boy, a time when my brothers and I would wait until my mother was gone so we could sneak out my dad's Johnny Cash albums, hidden away in the dark recesses behind the speakers of the wooden console stereo entertainment center. And then we would listen to them on the sly. Because, you see, my mother did not like us young children to listen to Johnny Cash. Or Tex Ritter. They were very rough, and crude.
She did not like us to listen to those albums because she did not like many of those songs. But my dad did, so he had the albums. And we would listen to them. When my mother was gone.
And I remembered all this, and I smiled. And then I told my son that the best way to listen to Johnny Cash is on the sly.
Claudius had a certain majesty and dignity of presence, which showed to best advantage when he happened to be standing or seated -- and especially when he was in repose. This was because, though tall, well-built, with a handsome face, a fine head of white hair and a firm neck, he stumbled as he walked owing to the weakness of his knees; and because, both in his lighter moments and at serious business, he had several disagreeable traits. These included an uncontrolled laugh, a horrible habit, under the stress of anger, of slobbering at the mouth and running at the nose, a stammer, and a persistent tic of the head, which was apparent at all times but especially when he exerted himself to the slightest extent.
