Snowflakes: no two alike?

The New Neo Posted on by

Want to photograph snowflakes? The approach of winter makes it seem an attractive proposition.

If so—and if you can follow these incredibly complex instructions—no doubt you’ll be rewarded with some wonderful photos. And if you can, no doubt you are also a more painstaking and patient person than I am, because I balked at even reading the directions (and speaking of painstaking and patient, consider the life of the father of snowflake photography, Vermont’s Wilson Bentley).

That doesn’t mean I don’t think about snowflakes from time to time. I remember one extraordinary night when I was in graduate school. I emerged from a February evening class and encountered a rare snowfall in which each flake was seperate and dry, its regular crystal form clearly evident to the naked eye. It was as though nearly-weightless white diamonds had somehow fallen from the sky and were there for the taking. They stood outlined for a moment on our coats and hats and hair and gloves, but disappeared at the touch of a warm human hand.

To form that sort of snow it can’t be overly wet. But it must be very very cold. Where are these conditions best met? Sometimes here in New England, but this snowflake seeker says they’re more likely to be encountered in the midwest, around large lakes. Also Antarctica, but that’s a bit more difficult to visit:

The pole is very cold, very dry, and at high altitude, and snow crystals found there tend to be small, nearly perfect, hexagonal prisms. The very low temperatures produces sharp crystal facets (no chance of melting), while the very slow growth tends to produce small solid prisms.

It turns out that memorable snowfall I saw long ago was most likely composed of stellar dendrites and ferned stellar dendrites, as especially magical storms often are. “Storm” might be the wrong word, though; to make the most perfect flakes, a calm snowfall is best. I recall that on that night there was hardly any wind at all:

stellardendrites2.jpg

fernlikestellardendrite.jpg

And this is what the aggregate looked like:

dendritesnowfall.jpg

So, are no two snowflakes alike? I heard that in my youth, and wondered how it could ever be proven. Wouldn’t a person have to study them all, and wasn’t that impossible? The answer, unsurprisingly, is that it depends on what your definition of “alike” is. We can safely say, however, that at least for complex snowflakes, there have never been two alike in the history of the world.

Here’s one of them, though. It’s a movie of a snowflake growing under lab conditions. I am so stunned that I managed to figure out a way to get this onto my blog that I can’t muster any more tech savvy to figure out how to shrink it down to the proper size.

dendrite

    Valerie and Cecilia and…

    The New Neo Posted on by

    Ah, those bad girls, Valerie and Cecilia. They remind me a bit of each other.

    First we have Valerie:

    Now Cecilia (I looked for a live version, but the few on You Tube were really bad, so I settled for this):

    And then there’s Layla. Now Layla, she ain’t so bad (be patient; it takes close to a minute to really start):

    Since the last two songs feature girls names that end in “a,” the next one that happened to come to mind was “Lalena” by Donovan.

    Donovan. There’s a name I hadn’t really thought about in decades. The quintessential hippie, he seemed dated and mired in the 60s, full of flower power and vibrato, bells and beads.

    So imagine my surprise to find an oldish video of him (1983) at You Tube. And imagine my surprise to find on watching it that I thought he acquitted himself—and sadder-but-hardly-wiser Lalena, and that extraordinary quaver in his voice (how ever does he do it?)—very nicely indeed:

    Gun control and Mumbai

    The New Neo Posted on by

    Remember the discussion (here and here) about the ineffective cops who confronted the very effective terrorists in Mumbai?

    Not only were the terrorists probably well aware of the lack of training and poor equipment of the Mumbai forces. It seems likely that they also counted on the fact that India has a poorly-armed populace.

    This piece in American Thinker by Abhijeet Singh describes gun ownership in India. It is edifying to learn that, although even Gandhi was in favor of having a clause in the constitution of the new state that would protect the right of the ordinary citizen to bear arms, when independence was granted in 1947 such a passage was absent.

    The resultant laws controlling gun ownership in India, as well as the economics involved, have discouraged most of its law-abiding residents from owning firearms:

    …[T]he Indian government has…used state policy to ensure that firearms and ammunition prices are probably some of the highest in the world. Domestic production of rifled firearms is a state monopoly, churning out crude products that are priced at 7 (or more) times their cost of production. Similarly domestic production of ammunition is a state monopoly with inconsistent supplies, poor quality, and very high prices. This combined with the fact that imports have been virtually banned since 1986 means that an ordinary snub nosed .357 Colt revolver will sell (legally) for a mind boggling US $20,000 or more.

    A tight licensing regime combined with the high price of acquiring a legal gun has meant that very few Indians own weapons. Unsurprisingly these restrictions have also meant that there is a thriving black market for arms and ammunition, ensuring a steady supply to all manner of criminals…

    The result of Indian gun ownership policy is exactly the opposite of what one would hope. It keeps guns out of the reach of the law-abiding citizen and makes acquiring one a simple thing for criminals.

    Here’s another scene from Mumbai,an excellent illustration of the old saying “don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.” Only in this case, substitute “stone” for “knife”:

    At the Jewish outreach centre, bystanders pelted the terrorists with stones in a vain attempt to ward off the attack, but had to retreat when the terrorists opened fire with automatic rifles.

    Now it’s true that stones can be lethal, especially when hurled by a sizable crowd in sizable numbers. But the process takes time, and time is what a crowd facing terrorists armed with automatic weapons lacks.

    Mumbai, unfortunately, is a microcosm of the problems to which bad gun laws inevitably lead. It’s a bit like the line from Yeats’ “The Second Coming:”

    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Gun laws such as those in India ensure that “the best” will lack the weapons to defeat the “passionate intensity”—backed by firepower—of “the worst.”

    [NOTE: There is research indicating that violent crime declines in states with concealed carry laws. But the evidence, and the researcher involved (John Lott), are so controversial that I refer you to this webpage if you want to immerse yourself in the pros and cons.]

    Mother nature, frosty in tooth and claw

    The New Neo Posted on by

    Posting will be delayed today due to widespread ice-generated power outages all over New England, including my home. It’s spotty though—I’m at a nearby friend’s house right now, and it’s a little oasis of power. I probably will do some sort of posting later today, so stay tuned.

    More on “Midnight Run”

    The New Neo Posted on by

    After mentioning the film “Midnight Run” in yesterday’s post—and searching You Tube for relevant videos—I started wondering what it is about that movie that I like so very much. After all, it features the f-word very prominently, and it’s an action film—hardly my favorite genre.

    I have decided it’s the actors who really make the difference in the film. Also, the director who may have helped coax such stellar work from all of them. The script is fine, but it wouldn’t be anything without these performances.

    De Niro is usually good, but I don’t think he’s ever been so funny as in “Midnight Run.” Charles Grodin tends to be a grating guy, but in this movie that quality of his has been put to perfect use, and Grodin adds a subtle slyness that I’ve never seen before (or since) in him, as well as a real humanity.

    But they couldn’t do it alone. “Midnight Run” is the rare movie in which every single role is played to perfection, including the smallest bit parts. Watch the kid on the airplane as he watches Jack (De Niro) making a fake ID. Listen to the waitress describe the chorizo and eggs. See the look on the face of Jack’s daughter during his brief visit to her. Enjoy the dumb-but-lovable gangsters and the vicious mob boss, and the latter’s ever-escalating threats as he becomes more and more exasperated with the incompetence of the former: “You and that other dummy had better start getting more personally involved in your work, or I’m gonna stab you through the heart with a fuckin’ pencil.” Note especially the hysterical panic of bail bondsman Eddie, and the gleam in the eye of rival bounty hunter Marvin, Jack’s convivial but aggressive nemisis. See Yaphet Kotto, as FBI agent Moseley, struggle and fail to retain his dignity (and his sunglasses) amidst the frenetic goings-on.

    Here’s a series of short scenes from the movie. I almost didn’t include it, because if you haven’t seen “Midnight Run” I doubt it will seem all that funny. But in the context of the film the bits are hilarious. It’s the split-second timing, the running jokes, and the ensemble acting. Don’t think the film doesn’t justify its “action” designation, either: there are plenty of hair-raising moments.

    Note in the video the waitress (“chorizo and eggs”) at minute 2:18, and remember that, as she speaks, the characters De Niro and Grodin play are salivating with hunger but unable to afford a meal. Note also that, despite the general hilarity, the film contains real evil (see the mob boss addressing accountant Grodin at minute 4:21).

    But most of all, rent the movie and enjoy.

    [NOTE: It may be somewhat relevant to mention that the more serious theme of the movie is corruption and the fight against it.]

    What is it about Illinois?

    The New Neo Posted on by

    USA Today is eager to point out that Illinois is not the state with the highest number of elected officials convicted of corruption per capita. That dubious honor goes to North Dakota, with Alaska and Louisiana not far behind.

    Of course, this statistic might only mean that these states have corruption but are better at punishing it than Illinois is, since the study only dealt with convicted officials. And Illinois seems to have more corruption convictions in its highest places: it is the top state in number of governors indicted.

    So, what is it about Illinois—or any other state with such a problem? Is corruption a sort of proud tradition there, passed on from official to official? Or does the fact that a corrupt system is already in place and thriving make it difficult for an honest politician (not an oxymoron) to achieve success there? Or are the opportunities for corruption so much more numerous and lucrative that the temptation is greater? Or are new officials socialized into the corruption biz by older officials who teach them the ropes? Or do they start seeing so much of it that it quickly becomes normative behavior? Or is there self-selection on the part of those who go into politics in such states, because it would be rare for an honest person to want to be part of such a system and the inevitable compromises one would have to make? I welcome your thoughts on the matter.

    Of course, the present scandal isn’t just about Blagojevich and what prompted him to go bad. From the sound of what I’ve read about the contents of the tapes, he may just be a sociopath who has no sense of honor to lose. So “going bad” may be giving him too much credit.

    The larger question, of course, is the history of our next President, Barack Obama, and how he managed to negotiate the shady hallways of Illinois and Chicago politics. At the moment, I come down on the side of thinking he made his associations and accommodations with various sleazebags too numerous to mention, but kept his own record clean of outright corruption.

    Blagojevich: what the wire reveals

    The New Neo Posted on by

    At this point we can safely say that Governor Blagojevich of Illinois is outrageously corrupt in an almost-comic book—or textbook, if you prefer—sort of way.

    The proof is in the wire. It’s not a case of “he said, she said.” It’s simply “he said. And then he said and said and said and said.”

    It’s ironic that Blagojevich ran on an anti-corruption platform six years ago, saying he would overturn “what he called a Republican ‘legacy of corruption, mismanagement and lost opportunities.'” Who knew that the accent in that quote would be on the word Republican, and that the “lost opportunities” he referred to were the lost opportunities for Democratic—or, more specifically, Blagojevichian—corruption? Apparently, nobody does it better—although in Illinois and Chicago, there’s a lot of bi-partisan competition for the honor.

    Corruption in politics is nothing new. Corruption by particularly self-righteous politicians (such as, for example, Elliot Spitzer) seems to be a bit of a trend lately. And in the Blagojevich case, the wearing of the wire gives us an extraordinary glimpse behind the scenes at the dichotomy between public and private persona.

    One can safely assume that public figures speak and act differently in private than in public. With their families and friends, they are more relaxed, for example. They also tend to clean up their language for public consumption. But the gap between the public Blagojevich and the governor who wheeled and dealed to sell a Senate seat to the highest bidder is pretty much on the order of the Grand Canyon.

    One of the revelations, aside from the depth and breadth and sheer audacity of Blagojevich’s corrupt dealings, is that his favorite word by far is the f-word. A typical quote:

    Rod Blagojevich said that the consultants … are telling him that he has to “suck it up” for two years and do nothing and give this “motherfucker [the President-elect] his senator. Fuck him. For nothing? Fuck him.”

    I said his corruption was comic book. It is also cinematic—or at least his language is. It reminds me of one of my favorite movies, “Midnight Run.” Ever seen it? (And I’m not talking about the similarly-titled “Midnight Express”—I’m talking this one).

    Although “Midnight Run” may not be exactly the film you might think I would go for, I have to say it’s one of the funniest movies ever, and I’ve seen it about eight times. One of its most salient characteristics is the liberal and very comic use of the f-word by most of its characters. I once saw the film on TV in an expurgated version, and it was funny in a different way—it seemed that every other word (literally) was blipped.

    For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, and as a tribute to the somewhat limited but colorful vocabulary of the private Blagojevich, I offer you this You Tube video featuring relevant excerpts from “Midnight Run:”

    [NOTE: “Midnight Run” also features a wonderful scene involving the wearing of a wire by Robert de Niro towards the end. Just rent it and watch it.]

    Book groups: ah, the complexity!

    The New Neo Posted on by

    If you want to have a reason for refusing to join a book group, just read this article to discover how petty and strange people can be.

    Confession: I am a member of a book group. An all-female one, as the majority of them are. Ours has had its share of ups and downs, and some members have dropped out because of time constraints or conflicts with one person or another. We also have had a political brouhaha or two, as in the article.

    But we persist, and I think it’s because we don’t take ourselves too seriously. We also happen to be have an unusual number of lively and entertaining women in our group, and we all like to have a good time. That’s the acknowledged main function of our book group—the books are merely a pretext, although we do get around to discussing them.

    But people such as Jocelyn Bowie, featured in the article, would have a lot of trouble with our group:

    …[Bowie] lobbied for literary classics like “Emma” and the rest of the group was abuzz about “The Secret Life of Bees,” a pop-lit best seller.

    The last straw came when the group picked “The Da Vinci Code” and someone suggested the discussion would be enriched by delving into the author’s source material. “It was bad enough that they wanted to read ”˜Da Vinci Code’ in the first place,” Ms. Bowie said, “but then they wanted to talk about it.”

    Oops! I have to say that I’m a literary sort too, and couldn’t stand The Secret Life of Bees or The Da Vinci Code, both of which were indeed read by the group I attend. But in that case, I either don’t read the book at all or I skim it. When it’s my turn to choose, I select something I like, and if it tends to be more “literary” than the other selections (and it does) no one has ever complained. This is because we are actually friends, and everyone agrees that our main function in getting together is to have fun.

    What is this tendency to make everything into a pretentious undertaking, a way to impress each other with our sagacity? Book groups are the modern substitute for the bowling leagues and the canasta- or bridge-playing get-togethers of my parents’ generation, when people didn’t feel the need to apologize for their lowbrow tastes. They even had parties, too, with no excuse except that they liked to party.

    Now it seems that this isn’t enough. Now too many prima donnas seem to spoil the fun—just read the article if you doubt what I say.

    And I am astounded at the revelation of a new profession: book group facilitator. There’s one in New York who oversees a dozen groups and charges members $250-300 a year for her services. I have just done the math, and if there are ten members per group (a low estimate), she would be making close to $36,000 a year for her services. Most book groups meet no more than once a month, and usually even less. Not a bad gig, I’d say.

    Art imitates life—and death

    The New Neo Posted on by

    Is the wildly successful avant garde artist Damien Hirst (about whom I wrote here, and who specializes in works that feature dead animals) finally feeling the pinch of the economic downturn?

    Well, at the very least, his employees are. He seems to have a stable of them who help churn out his lucrative works, and half of these people have been laid off recently.

    The contemporary art scene in general seems to have fallen on hard times lately, despite earlier assertions that it was recession-proof. In this piece from Prospect, Ben Lewis and Jonathan Ford describe the recent precipitous (and well-earned, IMHO) slide of such works. They also point out that the market may have been artificially propped up for a while by dealers bidding on the auction lots of their own artists to drive up the prices.

    In the thread on my previous post on Hirst, commenter Mitsu remarked that I’m totally missing the point of Hirst’s art, and that “[Hirst’s] work isn’t simply ‘animals in formaldehyde’—it’s about the line between the living and dead, between the animate and the inanimate.” Mitsu finds such artwork interesting both scientifically and artistically.

    I find it neither. What I find interesting is the phenomenon of people willing to pay big bucks (and I mean big) for “art” that is both revolting and simplistic in its message, and that partakes of not one iota of artistry itself.

    Mitsu’s conclusion that I fail to get the point of Hirst’s art because I fail to appreciate it is also a simplistic one. I have the capacity to comprehend Hirst’s memento mori message, as well as its commentary on the line between life and death.

    This is actually a classic artistic theme. In the past, it was explored in certain Dutch still lifes, but in a much more beautiful manner that involved the use of actual skill.

    See the following for an excellent example, and note the drooping flower in the foreground:

    basketofflowers4.jpg

    Here is a discussion of the type of classic still life that points out the decline and decay present in all life. Some of the Dutch paintings deal with the theme even more overtly, featuring insects and/or dead game. Hirst hardly invented the concept, but is merely one of the worst “artists” to ever explore it.

    If I wanted to go to a lecture on death and dying, I would do so. I go to art shows for something quite different.

    Didactic art and political art has never been my cup of tea anyway. But I think I “understand” it as well as most. For evidence of that, you might want to take a look at my three-part series on political art (first part here).

    And, in skimming that series for the purposes of this post, it occurs to me that one of the things Hirst and his revolting ilk are attempting to do is to position themselves as the anti-kitsch. Kitsch is the subject of Part III of my series. The most relevant passages is this:

    Kitsch is detested for its simplicity and its easy appeal to sentimentality, as well as its formulaic qualities…

    Kundera states that kitsch is:

    “defined it as ‘the absolute denial of shit.’ [Kundera’s] argument was that kitsch functions by excluding from view everything that humans find difficult to come to terms with, offering instead a sanitised view of the world in which “all answers are given in advance and preclude any questions.”

    So, Hirst seems to want to place before our kitsch-besotted eyes all the “shit” that has supposedly been denied by prettier art. Unfortunately, he throws out the baby (art itself) with the kitschy bathwater, creating a reactive statement that is neither art, nor propaganda, nor interesting, but merely repulsive.

    Obama: liberal frustration, conservative satisfaction

    The New Neo Posted on by

    Who would have thought that, a mere month after the election of Barack Obama as our next President, it would be the liberals who’d be frustrated and the conservatives who’d have slight and catlike smiles on their faces?

    Certainly not me. Right after the election, when I suggested to my fellow disappointed McCain voters that they give Obama a chance before becoming too gloomy or angry, I hardly envisioned that over the Thanksgiving holiday when relatives would ask me how I was feeling about Obama my answer would be, “Probably better than you are right now.” And yet that’s what has happened.

    I’m not saying conservatives are overjoyed with the man. Nor am I. Plus, with Obama, the caveat is that his positions today have no real relation to his positions tomorrow—as we noticed during the election, but as liberals are just now beginning to learn. The man is a quick-change chameleon. But so far, his appointments have been far better than I feared, and better than I had any reason to hope for, considering his past and his campaign promises.

    Most liberals feel differently. The only question for most seems to be whether it’s time to criticize him yet, since he’s not even taken office:

    OpenLeft blogger Chris Bowers went so far as to issue this plaintive plea: “Isn’t there ever a point when we can get an actual Democratic administration?”

    Even supporters make clear they’re on the lookout for backsliding. “There’s a concern that he keep his basic promises and people are going to watch him,” said Roger Hickey, a co-founder of Campaign for America’s Future.

    Good luck with learning what Obama’s “basic promises” actually were. As I recall, the main one was change. I suppose on that score, those liberals who see his Cabinet as Clinton-lite or even Bush-lite are already bitterly disappointed. As the headline of David Corn’s piece in yesterday’s WaPo complained, “This Wasn’t Quite the Change We Envisioned.”

    No, it wasn’t, and I for one am glad. But a promise of “change” that was so vaguely definied—and seems, so far, to be limited to having a President with smoother rhetoric and darker skin than his predecessor—was always, as Obama himself so clearly wrote, bound to disappoint “some, if not all” of the supporters he encouraged to project so many disparate hopes onto him.