You made it to one, Ruby. Nice Job.

My very small knowledge of developmental psychology seems to taper off after one year old, unfortunately.  I need to remedy this situation in a hurry.  As predicted though, you have just about all of your cerebral cortex online, in one capacity or another, right now, and there is always a little person there...thoughts, opinions, expectations...strategies.  Dear viewer, if you think it was crazy of us to let a one year old eat this much refined sugar, you are absolutely right...she spent much of her birthday wired like a coke fiend in Miami, waiting for the 1980's to end.  Now, she is trying to walk, in short intervals, and with careful planning, so as not to fall and look foolish.  She demands to be bounced around to music, as always, but nowadays it is almost always her idea.  The little Nile-esque cookie monster growl has come back, for summoning metal to the cd player, or to indicate any situation where the baby is being watonly brutal, such as hurling stuffed toys onto the floor.  She seems much more concerned with having us name every object she can point to than she does with saying the words herself, as if to satify her curisity that previous humans have named everything first.  Sorry..we have, or we can invent them fast.  "That block is a donut shape...a torus....it is red...."  "Donut, umm, that one is octagonal, there are no donuts that shape.  I know, you are finding all the toruses....and stacking them, by round vs. not round..."  Note to self, "Is there such a thing as an octagonal torus?"

Happy birthday, Ruby.

A letter from Federal Prison from Psycho Butcher, our Restaurant Critic

Dear Readers,

I have been incarcerated, unjustly, for the last few months, pending charges of arson. I should not comment on an investigation in progress, but the act was real, performed by yours truly, for very good reasons I am sure you can guess. But that is not why I am posting today. I write to once again comment on the loveliness of brunch.

Brunch is a magnificent ritual. Perhaps just as mighty as the feeling of setting torch one's enemies is the process of, having woken up from sparse hours of slumber, drunken hours after the act spent in a sonambulic playground of hard drugs and illegal sex acts, is the loveliness of stumbling into seat and ordering flapjacks the next day. This I write from prison, of course, not an omlet in sight.

So, lacking in actual pleasures, let me share my fantasies about the red velvet pancakes at the Bongo Room. They are lovely; just the right consistency, exceeding any reasonable person's idea of the appropriate portion size (this is mandatory for pancakes, because let face it dear readers, no matter how much red food coloring they felt fit to enrich the lovely mixture with, pancake fixings are inexpensive and it is appropriate to overserve guests at brunch, a nod to the begotten days of a hearty breakfast before getting behind a plow or other such rustic instrument), and topped with appropriate creaminess. The ancient bullwark of brunch in this town had not lost its heavenly status on the day prior to my incarceration, and since it was a weekday morning, I was able to walk in and sit down at a table without having to wait outside on Milwaukee Avenue, corpse paint running from an evening of smoke and sin.

Nightwood, in Pilsen, serves a fine brunch as well. Disappointing was the Eggs Benedict, actually, but impressive was the hamburger, not a brunch item at all, but ordered nonetheless by the drummer from a rival Black Metal band, a Phillistine, who had the sense to smell cooking meat from the street outside and follow his animal instincts. Both places have appropriately exquisite coffee, which is mandatory for such occasions as well.

Now that I am reporting to you, dear readers, the breakfast biscuit, or whatever it is they call the McMuffin. sendup at Hot Chocolate, has slid a bit, not from lack of love but from rushed execution, but their Hot Chocolate is something to dream about. Alone, in this dark cell, I ruminate on the Cthonian world of their Black and Tan, counting the bricks and lamenting the likelihood of lunchmeat on white bread, meal after meal, until my motives are understood and i am vindicated.

Die, Corky, Die

Corky the Gnome,
I am not saying I put my goblin friends up to causing that workplace accident in Whole Foods that nearly took your life, but if I did, it would have been justified. All those cases of wine falling on a helpless little gnome, as he reclines on a wheel of cheese, smoking a pipe, in the back room. Poor, cute little gnome.
Goblins do things like that Corky, they hate gnomes. If I put them up to it, it would have been justified by all the times you came by my house, sprinkling gnome dust everywhere to give my living room that "enchanted" feeling, and starting shit between me and my wife. Everyone hates it when a little shit-disturber comes around his house and starts talking crap to his wife about how the presence of hobgoblins living in the basement might be "dangerous" to the baby, or how the man of the house might be "gnomist" for having a -no pointy hats- rule. Truth of the matter is that I hate pointy red hats, and I hate gnome antics.
I noticed, for instance, that you secretly inspected, and organized all the closets. I messed them up again. I noticed that you and your buddies made liberal use of the garden all summer, standin perfectly still, like ornaments. Invisible to everybody but me.
If Blodgett and Hookie the goblins abducted you after the workplace fall and drug you off to a secret goblin "maze of torment", maybe they were trying to help you somehow. Too bad you had to chew your own leg off to escape and all. The peg leg looks nice.
I have two hobgoblins guarding the house now. Stay the hell away.
Stupid gnome.

Dear Ruby,

Yes, Ruby, of course I am an extremely proud father that you now have a low, "cookie monster" growl to voice fits of metal pleasure, such as trying to kick your rubber duckie out of the bathtub, and bouncing around in my arms to Iron Maiden, SkeletonWitch, and Arsis, complete with tiny fist in the air.  Just as pleased, I am, that you seem to have discovered the secret magic to books, and laugh at a drawing of a baby gorilla crawling into bed with the zookeeper and his wife.  You have never seen a gorilla, yet this is somehow funny to you already, at just short of a year old.  Your endless experiments with the Fisher Price ball popper, your conviction that merely hiding your face with a cake pan constitutes the ultimate in crypsis and hilarity, and a thousand other things convince me that you, the real you, are finally here.  Welcome to Earth Ruby, and happy birthday.  This time, last year, we were taking bets that you would arrive amid whatever Thanksgiving meal we saw fit to make, deciding what to pack for the hospital visit, as if we did not live a block away, and airing our confessions that, indeed, it would be fun to dress a little baby and that is part of the excitement, however indulgent.  You look great today.  Love.  Dad.

Are We Evolving?

In the future, will the human race evolve giant, watermelon-sized brains, the huge crania barely supported by pasty-white and frail bodies? Or, like the tyrant overlords in Madeline L'Engel's A Wrinkle in Time, might we progress to the status of brains floating in nutrient solution? Alternatively, might we evolve a caste system, with future humans partitioned like termites into worker, soldier, and thinking classes? Or perhaps we will regress both physically and mentally, as Aldous Huxley's Ape and Essence, degenerating into a senseless species of cripples, gibbering like idiots.

Perhaps our organic evolution is irrelevant at this late date, since the eventual replacement of organic Homo sapiens by intelligent thinking machines made in our image, is just around the corner. As more and more people opt to upload their thoughts and memories into cybernetic immortality, will our species leave this planet behind for an existence in some cybernetic realm?

The literature of science fiction is rich with fantastic speculation about our evolutionary destiny. In Nat Schacher's "Past Present and Future", a hundred thousand years of evolution create a future human race composed of worker, technician, and oligarch castes, all teeming like ants within a subterranean hive. H. G. Wells' extrapolations of human evolution are legendary, with a nocturnal, carnivorous human species preying upon their dim witted and gentle sister species. This vision of future humanity in The Time Machine was presaged in Wells' When the Sleeper Wakes, where he shows the huge hive cities and the class distinctions that might ultimately lead our social classes to follow separate evolutionary paths. In A. E. Von Vogt's Slan, the superior species resulted from some sort of major mutation, with multiple types of mutants living as persecuted minorities. Olaf Stapledon's visionary The First and the Last Men postulates not just a single evolutionary descendent of Homo sapiens, but a series of 16 future humans. These include seal men, winged men, a race of malevolent intelligent monkeys, and the benevolent and doomed last men of Neptune, possessed with vast intellect and forethought.

And yet, as humans, we seem to have insulated ourselves from nature "red in tooth and claw". From the viewpoint of an easy chair, it is not clear that some traits confer a reproductive advantage and others do not. Are we evolving?

The answer is yes. All species evolve, though the rate of evolutionary change can vary tremendously among species, and for any given species, can vary from one span of time to the next. In the last fifty years, we have seen astonishingly rapid evolution of pesticide resistance in insects and antibiotic resistance in pathogens. Artificial selection via domestication has brought monstrous new creatures into existence from sensible and innocuous wild ancestors. Maize, for instance, evolved from a weedy Mexican upland grass resembling the weed teosite, into the tall, large-seeded and distinctive plant that occupies so much of the world today. Tomatoes, bananas, and other plants, have underwent similar transformations. Some species seem not to evolve at all for vast spans of time. The horseshoe crab, Limulus sp., is very difficult to distinguish from reconstructions of fossil ancestors that crawled the seas 200 million years ago, and the giant sequoia tree Sequoiadendron giganteum could be transplanted to a Cretaceous period forest and not seem out of place. These species have evolved, nonetheless, in thousands of subtle aspects associated with tracking the ecological niche that allows them to survive as they do. For them, the game is stabilizing selection, rather than directional selection…natural selection weeds out the individuals that depart too much from the configuration that has worked so well for these millions of years.

What about humans? Will we continue the rapid evolutionary change of the last 5 million years? Or sink into a pattern of evolutionary stasis like horseshoe crabs?

Our species yields tantalizing clues for speculation. It is a rule that large, widely-distributed species living in large populations mixed by the movement of individuals, frequently remain unchanged for vast amounts of time. It is the small, fractured populations that show rapid evolution, generally, and have the most opportunities to give rise to new species as well. Interestingly, however, a large number of widely-distributed species have exhibited dramatic evolutionary change recently, both in terms of their behavior and their appearance-most of them being species that interact regularly with humans; our domesticated weeds, our pests, and our pets. It has even been postulated, as John Livingston suggested in his book Rogue Primate, that our species has domesticated itself.

Possibly, one of the biggest stories in our recent evolutionary history is allele flow, that erasure of thousands of ethnic and regional differences in gene pools as individuals from one part of the world invade, migrate, settle, conquer, and interbreed. So strong has it been that there are few Native Americans that can trace pure ancestry back to the men and women who crossed Beringia. In other places, Europe and Asia, it has erased a thousand subtle regional differences.

It is essential to dismiss the misconception that evolution is teleological or goal directed. Evolution is usually gradual change brought about in a species by a statistical bias toward certain individuals more likely to survive and make a greater number of copies of themselves, as well as other random factors that create genetic variation and cause random change over time. It is punctuated by the process of speciation, another random process, that splits evolutionary lineages by creating reproductive isolation between populations. None of these processes has a conscience, a memory, or a plan. Thus, evolution does not proceed from start to finish, but rather, continuously shapes a species by a variety of factors. It is the rule, rather than the exception, for a species to evolve in one direction for a while, and then evolve in retrograde for a while, as conditions favor the types of individuals that were more common to begin with. At any given time, the effects of each evolutionary mechanism depend greatly upon the physical environment.

With a change in the environment, evolution can reverse itself or go in directions completely different from earlier trends. Thus, our evolutionary past does not predict our future. Between 1.5 million years ago, and 25,000 years ago, our lineage underwent a rapid increase in brain size. This trend continued from Homo erectus into early Homo sapiens, yet this trend need not continue. In fact, it has stopped. The best fossil evidence we have suggests that, for the last 30,000 years, our brains have gotten slightly smaller. Some of this, of course, is associated with a general decline in body size associated with the shift to farming, and away from hunting mammoths.

IQ, whatever crude measure of intellect it is, is not positively correlated with fitness, by the way, nor is it negatively correlated. Evidence suggests that the highest reproductive prowess is centered in the middle of the IQ curve. There is some positive assortative mating for IQ though, which increases the spread a bit, producing a few more IQ geniuses (as opposed to the real kind, who can compose symphonies or interpret the red shifts of quasars), than we would see otherwise. This is not to say that our brains are not evolving rapidly. Nine percent of the genes we share with chimps are still evolving quickly, some of them associated with brain development. Others are involved in perception, sperm production, and immunity.

Likely, one of the biggest agents of natural selection operating today is infectious disease. The parasites we take for granted, things like colds, the flu, chicken pox, are relative newcomers, just jumped in from the species we have domesticated. The arrival of each was probably heralded by a huge plague. My guess is that each of the great ancient plagues has its origin in the arrival of one of these, now-mundane parasites. They have evolved decreasing virulence. Whatever organism caused the Plague of Athens burned through its hosts too quickly and died out, but it probably came back, with a more patient set of genes less likely to kill the host. Along the way, it must have imposed some selection on its host as well.

In some ways, our domesticated species have domesticated us. Many of us carry the genes for lactose tolerance, and for forms of alcohol dehydrogenase that allow for a good buzz, both of which we owe to our domesticated creatures, cows and yeast respectively.

Negative selection..the directional selection against mutations that cause congenital illness, continues today, despite our couches, our store-bought food and our doctors. It is open to debate whether years of eyeglasses have caused human vision to degenerate, removing the weed-out process for bad eyesight (possibly, several world wars and an army obsessed with sending good genes into battle to be exterminated from the population, leaving the bad ones at home might have helped myopia spread, though I doubt the selective pressure has been pervasive enough for that), but things like Usher syndrome and muscular dystrophy still feel the weight of selection, pressing them like a vice, to small frequencies.

Concerning the morphological traits more familiar to us, they seem to follow a pattern similar to that of IQ. Stabilizing selection, the tendency of those in the middle of the curve to be most fit, has long been documented for birth weight. This is probably true of human body size. Very tall and very short individuals have reduced survivorship, as well as the hyper-skinny and the obese. Recent research suggests that, among women at least, those individuals that are just slightly heavier than the average have the highest fitness. Similarly, those individuals that are just slightly shorter than the average have the highest fitness. Favored also, however, are women who are able to start reproducing early, and keep going until later in life. This is all very fluid, a snapshot from one place in New England, and evolutionary trends in Botswana may very well be different.

Dear Dr. Sagan

Dr. Sagan, I feel I should tell you this, years after your death, that you were singularly one of the biggest influences in my life.  This only comes up now, inconveniently postmortem on your part, because I am reviewing Cosmos, and in some ways, it reads as an archaeology of my mind, my views on things, my understanding of the world.  I am a big-picture thinker, so much so that I frequently wonder if I have a mental illness that I cannot name, a sort of anti-aspergers syndrome.  I do not care about punctuation.  Details, such as exact dates and even exact years, matter little to me.  I love people, especially the kind of people who notice spiderwebs, and though it is true that I might rather spend a day at the library than go to a party, the reverse might be true as well, depending upon the attendees.  It is much more relevant to me that every single attendee of the party is a eutherian mammal, even the cats and dogs that occasionally line the periphery of such events, and that reptilian guests to parties are restricted to circus and fetish folk, most often, and they make difficult party guests in any event, spending most of the event tied in pillow cases.  Your picture was, evidently, very large as well, given that you were the first man to consider pointing the camera of a spacecraft, at the edge of interstellar space, back at the Earth, to look for the intelligent life we knew to be there....a sort of ultimate perspective.

    You, on the other hand, were such a careful thinker, that decades after the fact, it is difficult to find scientific innacuracies in Cosoms, for the reason that, when it was called for, you always identified your hypothetical scenarios, your speculation, and the tentative conclusions of the science of the time, for exactly what they were.

     When I first viewed those episodes, so long ago that it was another lifetime, neurologically in the sense that by now, my dendrites have rebuilt themselves countless times, and in a very real aspect, I am not the same person I was back then.  You pissed me off when you spoke of nuclear war.  You pissed me off for the same reason that, what is now arguably my favorite movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still, pissed me off as well.  From the Hollywood, Clatu taught me that interstellar war is futile, pointless, and if there was anything to conquer, it would put a stop to our machinations before they started.  As it turns out from my later discoveries, impossible.  It would take so many resources to send a single paratrooper to Alpha Centauri, that we could build and rebuild every single thing we sought to conquer, on a lonely orb like Callisto, cheaper, and faster.  Advancing technology only helps the Callisto side of the equation.  Your line of argument concerning nuclear war was equally shattering to my world view at the time.  The fact of the matter is that the threat of nuclear armageddon, every second of the day, the drain of resources to build such devices, the time and expertise wasted perfecting them, was an almost-inconceivable folly....perhaps a product of our own evolution...but folly still.  You were right, of course, and though there are still ten thousand or more nuclear weapons on the planet, the Russians are shipping plutonium here for use in our reactors...nuclear armageddon has been replaced by nuclear proliferation among the small fry, the nation states so bent on preserving their power structures that they must blackmail the rest of the world into propping them up by providing a foil, a common enemy.  Ironic that the space race was brought about by the cold war, the moon race necessitated by it, but the manned exploration of space has been crippled by the debts we ran up in the process.  You straightened me out on where I stand as a human.  I am no longer a nationalist.

  You validated my nascent athiesm.  You were right that we do  not need god to explain our place in the universe, or our own existence here as well, and that, if we are courageous, we must ask "Who Created God?", and if we cannot answer this question, we might come to question his existence as well.  You taught me that the last librarian of Alexandria was killed by a Christian mob, but strangely, I missed your message that it was the librarian's own elitism that allowed that to happen.  It was this last point that, decades later, you made to me the other night.  I could stand to contemplate it.  

  Here I am, decades later, spending my life transmitting the findings of the academic heirarchs, a choice made of my own free will, though pushed by the necessity of earning a living, and my own failures navigating the political world of research science.  I speak to the masses who will listen, like you, but without the cool TV sets, the stodgy brown suit, the carnation, and with hundreds of viewers rather than millions.

  Your often-parodied goofiness, a notion I bought into at the time as well, is now easy to recognize as passion, pure and unadulterated.  I look at my own strengths as a lecturer, and it is passion of the same ilk, thought perhaps I flatter myself by making the comparison, which stands as a counterweight to my lack of punctuation.  I suppose, I am goofy too, in my own way.  Passion and curiosity can be taken that way, I suppose.

 

  

We All Grow Up So Damned Fast

Ruby was a bumblebee for Halloween this year, or something of that ilk.  She loved the short walk we took through Wicker Park, in a hunt for demon babies and Scare a Vacs.

Here she is at home foraging for pollen.

She pretty much likes the life of a circus baby, and prefers to be upside down.

God.  Halloween.  So many great ones recently..all so different.  Here you can see I removed my disguise and became the devil.  We all grow up so damned fast.