Monday, August 29, 2005
It's A Woo-Woo World
Astrology. Foot reflexology. Magnet therapy. Leprechauns.
The Jeopardy! question is "What are four things that aren't real?"
Science seems to be taking quite a beating these days. There are on-going battles to teach Intelligent Design in U.S. high schools, vast numbers of people engaging in questionable health practices and continued efforts to "prove" that this didn't happen.
But the profile of all this nonsense just got a royal raise, thanks to HRH The Prince Of Wales. It seems the Lord-High Big Ears is right into the whole world of alternative medicine, and junk science in general. And just recently he called for a study to see if the NHS can save money by adopting "Alternative Health Care" methods.
Some of it sounds great. Better diets. Excercise. Heck, I could use some of that (count the chins in my photograph). But Chuckie-boy is also talking about Homeopathy, which is simply ridiculous.
For those not in the know, Homeopathy is the idea that "like treats like". For example, if you're allergic to, say, peanuts, you can treat your symptoms by actually exposing yourself to peanuts. Very, very small amounts of peanuts. What they do is they take a solution of whatever substance is being used, and then dilute it. And dilute it again. And again. Now dilute it some more. Now add water.
In the end, the solution has been diluted so much that in any given portion, there actually is none of the original substance anymore. Not a single molecule. But homeopathic practitioners claim that the water - get this - REMEMBERS what that other substance was, and 'retains the shape' it had when that other substance was intermixed. Ingesting this apparently magical water will help your body acclimate to whatever you were having problems with. Bingo-bongo, you're cured.
As you can probably guess, this is what the scientific community commonly refers to as a big fat stinking lie. Test after test, clinical trial after clinical trial, homeopathy has been proven to be crap.
But Prince Charles, who may well be the King Of Canada one day, wants his government to spend cash on this.
Personally, I think it'll save the NHS a lot of money. After all, when all those sick people die from a lack of REAL medical treatment, they won't be looking for more government help, will they?
Sigh. All this rampant credulity makes me question my belief in the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
The Jeopardy! question is "What are four things that aren't real?"
Science seems to be taking quite a beating these days. There are on-going battles to teach Intelligent Design in U.S. high schools, vast numbers of people engaging in questionable health practices and continued efforts to "prove" that this didn't happen.
But the profile of all this nonsense just got a royal raise, thanks to HRH The Prince Of Wales. It seems the Lord-High Big Ears is right into the whole world of alternative medicine, and junk science in general. And just recently he called for a study to see if the NHS can save money by adopting "Alternative Health Care" methods.
Some of it sounds great. Better diets. Excercise. Heck, I could use some of that (count the chins in my photograph). But Chuckie-boy is also talking about Homeopathy, which is simply ridiculous.
For those not in the know, Homeopathy is the idea that "like treats like". For example, if you're allergic to, say, peanuts, you can treat your symptoms by actually exposing yourself to peanuts. Very, very small amounts of peanuts. What they do is they take a solution of whatever substance is being used, and then dilute it. And dilute it again. And again. Now dilute it some more. Now add water.
In the end, the solution has been diluted so much that in any given portion, there actually is none of the original substance anymore. Not a single molecule. But homeopathic practitioners claim that the water - get this - REMEMBERS what that other substance was, and 'retains the shape' it had when that other substance was intermixed. Ingesting this apparently magical water will help your body acclimate to whatever you were having problems with. Bingo-bongo, you're cured.
As you can probably guess, this is what the scientific community commonly refers to as a big fat stinking lie. Test after test, clinical trial after clinical trial, homeopathy has been proven to be crap.
But Prince Charles, who may well be the King Of Canada one day, wants his government to spend cash on this.
Personally, I think it'll save the NHS a lot of money. After all, when all those sick people die from a lack of REAL medical treatment, they won't be looking for more government help, will they?
Sigh. All this rampant credulity makes me question my belief in the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Hollyweird
Let's make no mistakes. The people in Hollywood are, at the best of the times, loopier than a zero-gravity roller coaster. To start with, they're in California, home of both Hippie Love-Ins and The Crips and Bloods. This a state that legalized medical marijuana, invented Palimony and elected this guy Governor. On top of all that Hollywood has their own special brand of weird. And I'm not talking about David-Lynchian on screen weirdness, or Gary Buseyian adventures in advanced pharmacology. I mean a whole subculture that thinks $40 Million is barely enough of a budget for an Independent Film, that lunch is something you 'do' and thought they could get a decent acting job out of this guy.
But they've been especially weird lately. Weird in an increasingly creepy and dangerous way. Note the following:
Olivia "Sir Isaac" Newton-John has hired a Private Dick. No, not that kind. She hired an investigator to try and find her missing boyfriend. Seems she returned from Australia to their home in Malibu, and found that he was gone. Thing is, he was missing nearly two full weeks before anyone called the cops, and she's only hired the gumshoe now, over a month later. I guess maybe she wasn't hopelessly devoted to him.
Music producer Christian Julian Irwin is also missing. Apparently he called a friend at nearly four in the morning to say that he was in trouble, and was at the time of the phone call running through water to try and evade the men who were chasing him with dogs. It seems that Irwin, who has worked with Carly Simon, Queen Latifah and David Bowie, had become involved in a version of the infamous Nigerian email scam. He first though he might be in trouble when he received a cheque in the mail from Nigeria for $50,000.00. When the Nigerian's start actually sending the money, you know something's wrong.
And another one's gone: Scout Taylor-Compton, teenage actress of such classic films as "Sleepover" and, uh, "Sleepover" has been missing for two weeks. She had just landed a regular role in an upcoming series on "Bravo", so in all likelihood would never have been heard from again anyway.
And two were found: Terry Carr, producer of such high quality fare as the Luciano Pavarotti hit "Yes, Giorgio", disappeared on July 30th from a grocery store in Lakeport, OR, much to the surprise of his wife who was in the store restrooms at the time. he took their SUV and their nine year old daughter with him. The next day, police found father and daughter dead in the back of said SUV, which had been parked in the lot of another mall, some miles away. It seems they were sleeping in the back of the vehicle (huh?) and the 212 lb man had suffered a heart attack and collapsed on top of the 53 lb girl (double huh?), suffocating her. Umm, does anyone else find the whole set-up suspiciously creepy? What position do you have to be in, in a car, to fall ON TOP of the little girl next to you?
And those are just a few examples. There's also the former bit-player on the Power Rangers who allegedly tied to people to the anchor of their own boat and sent them down to a watery death, the guy who claims Sid and Marty Krofft, makers of fine children's programming, hired him in the seventies to come up with the show that is now ABC's "Lost", the housekeeper who stole from De Niro's wife, but claims she never took anything from Isabella Rosselini "because she treated me well," and the on-going weirdness of Celebrity relationships, scientologists and big screen remakes of old TV shows.
A concerned person might well follow these stories with interest. Me, I'll wait for the movie.
But they've been especially weird lately. Weird in an increasingly creepy and dangerous way. Note the following:
Olivia "Sir Isaac" Newton-John has hired a Private Dick. No, not that kind. She hired an investigator to try and find her missing boyfriend. Seems she returned from Australia to their home in Malibu, and found that he was gone. Thing is, he was missing nearly two full weeks before anyone called the cops, and she's only hired the gumshoe now, over a month later. I guess maybe she wasn't hopelessly devoted to him.
Music producer Christian Julian Irwin is also missing. Apparently he called a friend at nearly four in the morning to say that he was in trouble, and was at the time of the phone call running through water to try and evade the men who were chasing him with dogs. It seems that Irwin, who has worked with Carly Simon, Queen Latifah and David Bowie, had become involved in a version of the infamous Nigerian email scam. He first though he might be in trouble when he received a cheque in the mail from Nigeria for $50,000.00. When the Nigerian's start actually sending the money, you know something's wrong.
And another one's gone: Scout Taylor-Compton, teenage actress of such classic films as "Sleepover" and, uh, "Sleepover" has been missing for two weeks. She had just landed a regular role in an upcoming series on "Bravo", so in all likelihood would never have been heard from again anyway.
And two were found: Terry Carr, producer of such high quality fare as the Luciano Pavarotti hit "Yes, Giorgio", disappeared on July 30th from a grocery store in Lakeport, OR, much to the surprise of his wife who was in the store restrooms at the time. he took their SUV and their nine year old daughter with him. The next day, police found father and daughter dead in the back of said SUV, which had been parked in the lot of another mall, some miles away. It seems they were sleeping in the back of the vehicle (huh?) and the 212 lb man had suffered a heart attack and collapsed on top of the 53 lb girl (double huh?), suffocating her. Umm, does anyone else find the whole set-up suspiciously creepy? What position do you have to be in, in a car, to fall ON TOP of the little girl next to you?
And those are just a few examples. There's also the former bit-player on the Power Rangers who allegedly tied to people to the anchor of their own boat and sent them down to a watery death, the guy who claims Sid and Marty Krofft, makers of fine children's programming, hired him in the seventies to come up with the show that is now ABC's "Lost", the housekeeper who stole from De Niro's wife, but claims she never took anything from Isabella Rosselini "because she treated me well," and the on-going weirdness of Celebrity relationships, scientologists and big screen remakes of old TV shows.
A concerned person might well follow these stories with interest. Me, I'll wait for the movie.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Japanese Writing, The Last Samurai, And My Brother's Tattoo
My brother is a good guy. We get along great. So, if he's about to do something stupid, I generally do what I can to steer him away from it. This is different from my attitude towards the rest of humanity in a big, big way. But that's another story.
I'm a little worried about my brother's current interest: paying a stranger to repeatedly poke him with a sharp object, i.e. getting a tattoo. My thoughts on tattoos in general are "I can't think of any image I like enough to have it permanently inscribed on my body". I mean, I'm an actor, I could get those comedy/tragedy masks etched into my skin. I'm a Star Trek fan, I could get a picture of the Enterprise (no, not that one, the real Enterprise). But both of them would involve paying lots of money to a stranger and having them repeatedly stab me. And at least one of them would involve me never getting laid again.
But my brother has his image all picked out. Well, images. He's been studying karate for a number of years, and will be going for his black belt very soon. He wants to commemorate the occasion with some symbols that supposedly express the ideals of the Samurai:
Duty & Loyalty
Justice & Morality
Complete Sincerity
Polite Courtesy
Compassion
Heroic Courage
Honor
If those images look familiar, it's because you've watched the special features disc of "The Last Samurai". That's right, my brother wants to carve pictures from a Tom Cruise film into his flesh.
Anyway, you may have noticed earlier that I said "supposedly express" (Go back and check. I really did.) I say that because of one fairly obvious fact: I can't read Japanese. Not even a little bit. Truth be told, neither can my brother. So basically, he's just taking it on faith that those symbols mean what the film says they mean. Y'know, because Hollywood has such an excellent track record for truth and accuracy.
My concern with this is that the symbols do not mean what we think they mean. That in a different context, they could carry a whole different connotation. I recently read this story on the Straight Dope message boards:
Anyone else, I would say go for it. I'd track down some Japanese friends, get them to translate "I think Brad Pitt is dreamy" and convince some guy to etch it on his forehead. Comedy is where you find it.
But my brother...
I'm a little worried about my brother's current interest: paying a stranger to repeatedly poke him with a sharp object, i.e. getting a tattoo. My thoughts on tattoos in general are "I can't think of any image I like enough to have it permanently inscribed on my body". I mean, I'm an actor, I could get those comedy/tragedy masks etched into my skin. I'm a Star Trek fan, I could get a picture of the Enterprise (no, not that one, the real Enterprise). But both of them would involve paying lots of money to a stranger and having them repeatedly stab me. And at least one of them would involve me never getting laid again.
But my brother has his image all picked out. Well, images. He's been studying karate for a number of years, and will be going for his black belt very soon. He wants to commemorate the occasion with some symbols that supposedly express the ideals of the Samurai:
Duty & Loyalty
Justice & Morality
Complete Sincerity
Polite Courtesy
Compassion
Heroic Courage
Honor
If those images look familiar, it's because you've watched the special features disc of "The Last Samurai". That's right, my brother wants to carve pictures from a Tom Cruise film into his flesh.
Anyway, you may have noticed earlier that I said "supposedly express" (Go back and check. I really did.) I say that because of one fairly obvious fact: I can't read Japanese. Not even a little bit. Truth be told, neither can my brother. So basically, he's just taking it on faith that those symbols mean what the film says they mean. Y'know, because Hollywood has such an excellent track record for truth and accuracy.
My concern with this is that the symbols do not mean what we think they mean. That in a different context, they could carry a whole different connotation. I recently read this story on the Straight Dope message boards:
...we saw a woman with the kanji for "Asia" and "law, or the way" on her shoulder. I guess she was trying to express "the way of the orient" or something but the characters read "Aho" or "Asshole". My husband laughed his head off, and so did I!So what can I say? How can I tell if my brother is about to write something obscene, embarassing, or just nonsensical on his body for life?
-- user Hokkaido Brit on the SDMB
Anyone else, I would say go for it. I'd track down some Japanese friends, get them to translate "I think Brad Pitt is dreamy" and convince some guy to etch it on his forehead. Comedy is where you find it.
But my brother...
Friday, August 19, 2005
Welcome To The BillPages
Well, I've never had a blog before. But as my talented friend T. Gregory Argall thinks he can pull it off, I figured I'd give it a try.
So what can one expect to find here? Two things: items of news that I find interesting, amusing, startling or of particular importance and musings on the world around me.
My story of the day:
Yesterday, I went to have my first ever professional headshots taken. I went to the studio of Tim Leyes, a very talented T.O. based guy. But before we got around to taking pictures, we ended up chatting about music. Before long, he said, "Hey, come with me. You'll appreciate this."
So we left Tim's studio, strolled down the hall and around the corner, to another studio space in the same building. Tim very quietly sneaks in, and it turns out the place is a recording studio. He takes me into the booth and starts showing me the recording equipment they've got at the place. Then, real casual, he says, "You see the guy at the piano? He played with the Beatles."
The. Beatles.
The guy at the piano, it turns out, is the incredible Roy Young, piano virtuoso and legend by association. The image at left shows him in action with the Fab Four in their early days at the cavern.
So I actually ended up meeting the guy, very briefly. My hand shook the hand of this man who's played with not just the Beatles, but Bowie, Jeff Beck and countless others.
Tim tells me he's taking photos of Roy and his band on Monday, and asks if I want to come down to his studio to assist. I wouldn't really have to do anything, it would just be an excuse to hang out with the band for the afternoon. I curse my day job, and respectfully decline.
Oh and the headshots turned out great.
Billp
So what can one expect to find here? Two things: items of news that I find interesting, amusing, startling or of particular importance and musings on the world around me.
My story of the day:
Yesterday, I went to have my first ever professional headshots taken. I went to the studio of Tim Leyes, a very talented T.O. based guy. But before we got around to taking pictures, we ended up chatting about music. Before long, he said, "Hey, come with me. You'll appreciate this."
So we left Tim's studio, strolled down the hall and around the corner, to another studio space in the same building. Tim very quietly sneaks in, and it turns out the place is a recording studio. He takes me into the booth and starts showing me the recording equipment they've got at the place. Then, real casual, he says, "You see the guy at the piano? He played with the Beatles."
The. Beatles.
The guy at the piano, it turns out, is the incredible Roy Young, piano virtuoso and legend by association. The image at left shows him in action with the Fab Four in their early days at the cavern.So I actually ended up meeting the guy, very briefly. My hand shook the hand of this man who's played with not just the Beatles, but Bowie, Jeff Beck and countless others.
Tim tells me he's taking photos of Roy and his band on Monday, and asks if I want to come down to his studio to assist. I wouldn't really have to do anything, it would just be an excuse to hang out with the band for the afternoon. I curse my day job, and respectfully decline.
Oh and the headshots turned out great.
Billp
