In Defense of Han Solo

So, I watched Blue Harvest again recently, and got to thinking about the oft-lampooned scene in the original Star Wars in which Han Solo notes how fast the Millennium Falcon is by stating that it made the Kessel Run in “less than twelve parsecs.”  The most notable mockery of the supposed physics faux pas comes from the parallel scene in Blue Harvest, and can’t escape the unwavering glare of cultural heavyweights like science comedians.  Of course, the obvious “error” is that the Star Wars writers seem to be implying that a parsec is a unit of time when, in fact, it is a unit of distance about 3.26 light-years in length.

However, I would like to make a case that making the Kessel Run in a shorter distance could actually imply higher speed (and maneuverability).   Suppose a flat, two-dimensional surface with two points, A and B, on opposite sides of an enclosed area on said surface.  Now, suppose the interveining “open” area is littered with static obstacles.  Or, instead of simply supposing it, look at this example:

There, I suppose, and infinite number of paths one might take from point A to point B, but consider two:

and,

Obviously, the second option is considerably shorter than the first.

Now, you’re probably wondering what the hell this has to do with the Kessel Run.  ”Taking the shorter route requires no greater speed,” you might say.  And you would be right — on a static, two dimensional surface.  Now, imagine a similar situation in three dimensions, with all objects moving chaotically, exerting gravity on each other and your ship.  (I couldn’t easily draw this scenario in Paint, so that’s why you get the simpler versions seen above.)  In a slow ship, you’d have to travel through the least dense areas of, say, the asteroid field.  Because you couldn’t easily dodge or out run small, fast-moving asteroids, you’d end up having to take the long way around (presumably, since the Kessel Run would probably not be well known if the easiest route was also the most direct), plodding around the big asteroids and avoiding the chaos of the inner parts of the asteroid field.

Since Solo felt no need to explain what the Kessel Run was, it seems obvious that he presumed that Luke and Obi Wan were familiar with the Kessel Run and would be impressed by his claim.  Since neither Luke nor Obi Wan ask for further clarification, we can also therefore assume that they did indeed understand the implications of his claim.

This all means that despite the fact that Solo did indeed use a unit of distance, it is plausible that he was still communicating information about the speed of his ship, only the reference is lost on the audience because, unlike Luke and Obi Wan, we don’t understand the contextual significance of such a run.

I'm Han Solo, bitch

a weird thought on quitting

So, cigarettes consume about 79.2% of my thoughts of late; more than work, more than dry, more than sex — combined.  I picture myself smoking more times a minute than a teen-aged boy imagines Megan Fox’s tits.  It would make your head spin.  It does mine.

I ought not post this to facebook, because the analogy that will be made over the course of this blog is a pretty terrible one.  But it’s seriously how I feel, if that gives you any idea of how powerful the addiction is.  Especially if you’re in my immediate family, and/or if you’re especially sensitive, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop reading.

I told Val that losing cigarettes has felt like losing a family member.  Cigarettes were always there for me — like an emo record to a pale-faced, died-black-hair’d high schooler, they never questioned me, never challenged me, and/but were always there for me when I needed them.   They made me feel better without asking anything in return.  Or, I guess, so it seemed. *Cue horror-film music*  Of course, the obvious point here is that cigarettes, you know, give you cancer, make you stink, give you little red lines all over your nose, turn your teeth yellow and your fingernails brown.  Oh, and they cost a lot of money.  So they want only this: my health, my beauty, my money.  Still, they never made me feel bad, emotionally; in  fact, they always made me feel better.

I’m getting off topic.  Sorry.  The point I was trying to make is that losing smokes is like losing a family member…except that when you lose a family member, there’s nothing you can do; there’s no choice.  [This is the part that some people might find upsetting.]  When my mom died, it sucked.  Every bit of it, from the in-and-out hospital trips, to the really-in hospital trips, to hospice, to that night, to the visitations, to the funeral, and back to “real” life.  But none of it was in my control.  There was literally nothing that I could do to change anything that happened — space knows I would have done “it” if I could have.  But I couldn’t.  It sucked, and I still feel the effects of her loss every single day.  I’m not writing this blog to whine about it: a lot of people have gone through similar and, in many cases, much worse things.  I bring it up here to make an analogy.

I looked forward to talking with mom; I looked forward to smoking cigarettes.  Seeing mom made me feel better; smoking cigarettes made me feel better.  Sometimes being around mom made me feel awkward, when we weren’t on the same page; sometimes smoking cigarettes was awkward, when I was at home, or around kids, or whatever.  Now, obviously, if I could choose between the two, my choice would be obvious.  But that’s not my point here.  The point is, at any moment, I can walk to a gas station and bring cigarettes back to life.  What I would do to bring mom back, but of course, I can’t.  All I have to do to bring cigarettes back, but of course, I shouldn’t.

Then again, bringing cigartettes back to life would only be like brining mom back to life if she were a purposefully-cancer-causing, money-grubbing, life-shortening bitch, which obviously she wasn’t.  It’s probably absurd for me to even compare the two, which is why I’m going to regret posting this.

I guess I would say that if you’ve never been heavily addicted to something, you just don’t know what it’s like to try to give it up.  I would admit that I don’t know what it’s like to give up smoking crack or doing meth: way worse that quitting smoking, I’d guess.  I know for sure that the physical symptoms are much worse for those things.  And that’s part of it: I don’t really feel any physical symptoms: I don’t sweat, my hands don’t shake, my teeth don’t chatter.  I just look out the window wistfully, picturing myself on the stoop, cigarette in hand.  It almost makes, and, a few times, has made me actually cry.  It blows.  Smoking is awesome, in the way that a siren is awesome, and I love it, in the way that Odysseus loved the sirens.  And that’s not past-tense.  I still love it.  But it’s evil.

Well, that’s all the nicotine-obsessed blogging I’m going to do right now.  Hopefully in a few months the new this will become normal — the this of being a non-smoker.   non-smoker. that sounds like another person.

trying to be quitter

so, i’m trying to quit smoking.  but i’m not perfect, and i guess i’d rather be honest with everyone who has supported me in my quitting efforts than be false with them.   so here’s the story so far, for the no-one who cares.

i had my “last night of smoking” at jorie’s and my joint birthday party.  that was a lot of fun, and  i burned a lot of smokes that night.  i smoked my last one at about 10:20am the following morning: val drove me home, i stayed up a bit, fell asleep for a minute, then woke up and put the nail in the proverbial coffin with two last cigarettes.  the last of which ended at about 10:20 am.

so then i slept, got up for work.  i usually smoke two cigarettes on the way to work; i smoked zero that night.  i did chew a piece of nicotine gum.  i can’t smoke at work, because i’m locked in a smoke-free building, so that was usual.  then i got out of work, and i usually smoke three cigarettes before getting home.  i smoked zero that morning, and, again, just chewed a piece of nic-gum.

then i slept for a really long time — really, longer than i should have.  but i guess i was tired, so, whatever.  judge me if you want for sleeping 13 hours.  i got up again, and my craving was more intense than it had been since the beginning.  i warded it off, in part due to the nic-gum that i chewed.  i hung out for eight or so hours, then Val got up, left for work.  by then, i’d had a few cocktails.  drinking was probably a bad idea, not because i feel like i need to quit drinking on my nights off right now — we’ll maybe save that battle for a later time, and i have stopped drinking after work, for the most part — but it was probably a bad idea because a) it makes me wanna smoke, and b) it lowers my inhibitions, and lowers my self-control.

so, all that so say, i bought some smokes this morning.  i fell off the fucking wagon.  but, at the same time, it’s been a long, long time since i even went forty-eight hours without smoking.  so i’m going to burn a couple right now, since i have them, and sine i’m drunk.  then i’ll toss the rest of that pack into the dumpster, and start over again.  i work the rest of the week, and though i might have a beer or two after work, i’m not going to “drink” at least until next weekend.  so i should be able to get through several days without the temptation associated with drinking.   so, starting from a few minutes from now, if i can get seventy-two hours, that will be a new personal record.  i’m not going to beat myself up, but i’m going to be honest.  i hate this quitting shit, but i want to do it.  and i’m also going to be honest about my failures.  but, okay, so i fucked up after two days.  well, then, if i can go four more days without fucking up, that’s progress, right?  i’ve always said that self-control is not my strong suit.

i’m not perfect, but i’m trying.  hopefully my failures will get further and further apart.  i really am trying.

God is awesome

I get the part where cunts like this aren’t representative of everyone who is a Christian.  And, I think that most people — Christian, Atheist, Jewish, Muslim, ambivalent, whatever — I think most people will agree with me about this.  I want to be a lover, but I’m not just going to ignore shit like this.  She represents everything that is vile about any form of fundamentalism, be it Christian or Islamic or atheistic.

http://www.irreligiosophy.com/audio/phelps_roper.mp3

There’s a real gem at 20:15+.  ”THOU SHALL NOT KILL,” she quotes.  but god kills, and orders people to kill.  no answer.

There is so, so much to get to in this interview…maybe I’ll deconstruct it more in the coming days.  Likely, I won’t because anyone who has her same religion writes her off as a zealot and anyone who doesn’t have her religion doesn’t care.  Just thought I’d post it in case any one was interested.

sometimes it’s a bummer to be an atheist

the last thing i want to do is throw a pity party for myself.  still, i feel like it’s worth exploring a topic when it’s getting me down.  as is my wont, i already foresee many potential responses, and i will address them as/if they come, rather than trying to proactively diffuse all criticism beforehand.

the other day i got all caught up thinking about heat death.  for a better description, well, you know how to use google, but basically, it’s the theory that eventually, all stars will burn out, and the universe will become dark and cold.  it’s a “theory” in the scientific way; that is to say, it’s the best hypothesis based on present evidence.  it’s what most astronomers and physicists say will happen eventually — it’s a “theory,” because, of course it can’t be proven.  it hasn’t happened yet.  but based on all current models of star life, galactic movement, et cetera, that’s what’s going to happen.  so no matter what we do to save the planet, at a certain point — granted, one’s that billions of years down the road — all the energy in the universe will be diffused into inertness.

if you believe in an afterlife, this poses no problems: who gives a crap about a dead physical universe when we’ll be living in an eternal non-physical reality?  but i don’t believe that.

sometimes, atheists get characterized as people who think that they are better-than-thou people who are able to “free themselves” from “religious foolishness” by using their “rationality,” while rejecting the obvious reality of Jesus or Allah or Zeus or whoever because they want to live lives of sin.  there’s a lot working there, and ultimately, whether right or wrong, i feel like i’ve asked the hard questions and come to the conclusion that either there is no god, or a “god” that exists certainly isn’t explained or understood by one book or one sect of one group of people on one planet at one particular place in time.  it’s been tough, and here’s one of the reasons why it’s tough.

heat death.

if there’s no afterlife, once the universe goes to heat death, there’s no possible way that you’ll be remembered, that any difference you made will have any effect, that any distant descendant of yours will even still be alive.  no one will.  all humanity will be gone.  there will be no life.  it all seems a little pointless when you take that perspective, doesn’t it?

i happened to be listening back to some of my old band’s music today.  here’s the bit that got me thinking about this (at the moment; i dwell on this often, sadly):

“when my life is done, i will meet the one who put all the stars in the sky.  i keep pressing on, singing freedom songs with the words that you wrote for me.  they can’t hold me back; all the love i lack, i have found in your open arms.  i’ll lay down my head, ain’t that what you said will happen when my hell is through.  i can go to sleep, no more tears to weep.  and finally i’ll see you again.”

i’m actually weeping myself as i write this: the line, “no more tears to weep…” what a great dream.  how fucking awesome would that be?  to never weep again — to never be sad, to never miss your dead mother, to never regret poor decisions, to never feel like a failure, to never succumb to your own weakness.  to not see your species go extinct in the universe’s heat death.  that would be fucking awesome.

so, whatever you think about me being an atheist…it’s not all me thinking i’m cool or whatever all the time.  sometimes, it really, really sucks.

but i refuse to believe in something just to make myself feel better if it’s not true.  i’d rather shiver naked under an open sky of truth than feel warm and cozy under a blanket of lies and false faith.  that’s a shitty metaphor — real cheezy.  but it’s how i feel.

the words of Morpheus come to mind:

“I dreamed a dream, but now that dream is gone from me.”

your beauty trumped my doubt

oh hai, internet.  i feel like typing for a couple of reasons.  i have a really nice whiskey buzz going right now.  i feel exactly how i want to feel: wide awake, blushed, oddly happy.  mumford and sons are happy addition to my stagnant music collection right now, and i’m enjoying them.

i also have massive writers block.  dry is totally kicking my ass up and down the block right now.  the whole point of doing this was to make myself write, and it’s working, in that i do post an episode every week.  i feel good about some of them, but i feel terrible about others.  to me, 112 was complete shit.  and now i only have four days to write 113, building on a shitty foundation (113 is part two to 112′s part one of the operation, a multi-episode bit in season one).  i want it to be interesting.  i think four people read dry, but even that is enough to make me want to give them something good.  i’ll sit outside and smoke three cigarettes and try to come up with one good idea for the next episode.

i’ve been thinking a lot recently about how the universe is going to eventually end in heat-death, and that in only ten billion years, the universe will have expanded so quickly that we will no longer be able to see anything outside of our own galaxy (which will by then be merged with the Andromeda galaxy).  by that time, our star will be on its way to becoming a white dwarf, and will have probably gobbled up mercury, venus, mars, and earth as it becomes a white giant.  (heat death is many billion years further away than that, but it won’t matter for humans, unless we radically progress in technology.)  i can’t stop thinking about how my life is a blink of an eye vis-a-vis humanity, and how humanity is a blink on an eye vis-a-vis our own world and solar system, and how our planet has been born and will die in the blink of an eye vis-a-vis the universe.  it’s simultaneously terrifying and liberating to realize how small we really are.

anyway, i want to post more on my skeptical blog.  but dry takes priority, so i’m all –when i get dry done this week, i’ll post on “close to finding truth”!  but then i never get dry done until friday afternoon because i suck and i’m a huge procrastinator.

anyway.  it’s only six thirty.  i have like four good hours left today.  let’s get this shit going!

also, i want to have a goddam dance party that’s hot and sweaty and reeks of alcohol and cigarettes and has atypical dance music.

i miss the ghana guys.

g’day, everyone.  peace be with you.

- matthew

another bi-polar blog…bllggh EMO LOL

lately, this thought has been in my mind: what’s the fucking point, because someone is always going to be smarter or better or more beautiful or whatever other quality you might think you have.  what’s the fucking point in trying to learn about science unless i’m going to be come a goddam neurologist.  what’s the point in debating evolution versus creationism unless i have  a Ph-fucking-D in paleontology.   what’s the point in writing if i’m never going to get published.

i have a shit job that i’m not even good at, and no prospects, despite a ten million dollar education that was more than half paid for by my parents.  i feel like i suck and because someone is always going to be better at me at anything that i could ever possibly try, what is even the point?  sure, you don’t have to be the best gas station attendant in the world to sell pall malls to trailer trash.  but no one cares about you.  and that’s me.  ugh.  fuck.

a small bit of psychology

so i’m WAY into the skeptic’s guide to the universe of late.  i’m about, oh, five years behind, but the bit i’m referencing is in, i think, episode nine, which is available on itunes.

even though the limit of my formal education is psychology was PSYC 150 at ferris, psychological experiments and tests have always been and continue to be extremely fascinating to me.  in addition, even though i am certainly no linguist, linguistic ideas are equally fascinating, especially since ideas of language almost always relate to differences in culture.

in any case, the test they were talking about was one that involved words and colors.  the subjects were simply asked to state the color various bits of text they were shown.  the results actually seem fairly intuitive, but they are still interesting to me because of their applications, and there’s a little twist at the end.

say subject A is an english speaker.  if she is shown the chinese word for “green” but the text is red, she immediately responds that the color of the text is red.  however, is subject A sees the english word “green,” there is an appreciable delay before she correctly states the color of the text, which is red.  basically, seeing a word in a language you can’t read amounts to seeing squares of different colors: the shape has no specific color reference, so your brain is free to focus only on the color.  however, when you can understand the word, your brain focuses first (it seems) on the word, and then gets to the color of the text.  even though the subject knows that the text is red, she pauses because “green,” a color in conflict with the one she sees, pops into her brain.

i found the application of this test quite interesting.  this test was administered during the cold war.  the CIA or the FBI might assume that a russian spy would speak russian.  they would administer this test to such a suspect, perhaps showing the japanese word for “green” in red text.  of course, the subject would have no delay in saying that the text was red.  they might then test it in english — a language which the subject clearly knew. they would verify the subject’s delay, knowing that they knew the language, hopefully with several different test (i.e. “blue” in yellow text, “orange” in brown text, etc.).  they might then switch back into a regional african language or spanish or something of that nature — the subjects delay would then be reduced.  then, they would show the russian word for, say, “pink” in a teal font.  if the subject delayed at a similar rate for the control questions, they testers would then know that the subject spoke russian. this was not a necessarily damning trait (someone who speaks arabic is not by definition a terrorist, obviously).  but if the subject had denied the ability to speak russian, and then was found out to indeed speak said language, in such a time as that, you had a pretty sure bet.  or at least a good enough bet to induce waterboarding or thumb-screwing.

the last little twist is that psychologists have been able to defeat this reaction when putting previously tested patients under hypnosis.  without going into a lot of detail, this basically seems to make the case that our brains are not hardwired that way, but that, despite our best efforts, most of us can’t consciously ignore our gut impulses (i.e. thinking “green” when seeing the word “green,” despite the text’s color), but it has been shown that in certain states of mind, we can easily circumvent our brain’s methods.

just a little something to chew on.  : )

i just…i don’t get it

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7yNwEDtqjA&feature=related

if i had more time, i would love to go over ravi’s arguments one by one.

the thing that fucks me up is this: ravi is certainly better educated than i am, he is certainly more astute than i am, and he has had many more years to contemplate these things than i have.  but, of course, the race to the truth is not won by the woman who has the most information.  nor is it won, seemingly, but he who thinks the most critically.  as it turns out, it’s not won by anybody.

i guess i just wanted to make this point.  ravi talks about  a debate he had with a non-believer.  that non-believer agreed that there was good an evil.  then ravi makes this point which is just…i don’t know.  maybe i’m way to dumb to get it.  but ravi says that for there to be a moral law there must be a moral-law-giver. that’s like his slam dunk.  and that statement just seems s0 patently false to me.  there need not be a moral-law-giver for there to be good and bad.  i mean, christ, there have to be a couple dozen moral systems that establish right and wrong that don’t involve god or jesus, or at least ravi’s definition of those things.  like i said, ravi is way more educated than i am.  but i just don’t don’t don’t see how that argument holds any weight whatsoever.  it just seems like a non sequitor to me.

there are good and bad movies.  is there a divine, objective being that decides these things?  no.  we create these standards for ourselves based on what works best and makes the most sense for our species.  goddam.

- matt

religious ecstasy

“While it cannot be proved retrospectively that any experience of possession, conversion, revelation, or divine ecstasy was merely an epileptic discharge, we must ask how one differentiates ‘real transcendence’ from neuropathies that produce the same extreme realness, profundity, ineffability, and sense of cosmic unity. When accounts of sudden religious conversions in TLEs [temporal-lobe epileptics] are laid alongside the epiphanous revelations of the religious tradition, the parallels are striking. The same is true of the recent spate of alleged UFO abductees. Parsimony alone argues against invoking spirits, demons, or extraterrestrials when natural causes will suffice.”

[Barry L. Beyerstein, "Neuropathology and the Legacy of Spiritual Possession", The Skeptical Inquirer, Vol. XII, No. 3, pg. 255]

god? or something else?

well, i finally started reading pharyngyula.  we’re doomed.