Super eclipse!

Today, of course, is the total eclipse of the sun in the United States and elsewhere in this hemisphere, the first one here since 2017. Where I am in New York we won't get the whole magilla, but it will be a nearly total eclipse, hitting around 3:30 this afternoon. 

Meanwhile, at the Super Museum in Metropolis, Illinois, Superman has made preparations. 

 

It seems kind of silly for the one guy who could always look straight at the sun to wear eclipse glasses, especially since they could compromise his secret identity. (Clark Kent -- shhh.) However, it's possible there is a villainous plan by the evil Eclipso, a DC Comics villain since 1963.

Eclipso is a scary evil dude, with a variety of superpowers, but in his early stories he was mostly a menace to ordinary people. He was the alter ego of the magically cursed solar scientist Bruce Gordon; in the event of an eclipse, Eclipso would arise from Gordon and wreak havoc. In more recent years Eclipso has become a worldbeater, a menace to millions, capable of taking on DC's mightiest heroes. So maybe Superman's eclipse specs are part of a plan to save us from Eclipso today.

Elsewhere in the funny pages, others have also had a bad time with eclipses. 

Let it be noted that Charlie Brown is not the only hard-luck character in Peanuts.

If you get caught between the moon and...

Took the dog out for a last run on Wednesday night and saw something I had never seen before. It genuinely surprised me. 

Let me preface this by reminding everyone that I grew up in the friendly confines of the five boroughs, and between the frequent rainy weather and the fog off the ocean and the light pollution and the pollution pollution it was often hard to see anything in the night sky. So astronomy never had much pull for me. The teacher would get excited about an upcoming eclipse, and the students would be like -- You think my parents are going to let me stand on the sidewalk at 3:46 a.m. to watch this? So only the dedicated far-out space nuts went in for serious astronomical stuff. 

But what I saw last Wednesday made me smile, and if you saw it too, maybe it did the same. 

At first I noticed the brightness -- full moon, fast-moving scrim of patchy clouds above. Very nice. Then I saw a little dot very close to the moon, less than a quarter inch from it by my vantage point. I knew that was odd, since starlight is not bright enough to be seen that close to the moon (right? Remember, knows nothing). Then I noticed that the dot was red, and realized it was Mars. 

That's right -- we were about to have a lunar eclipse, or more properly an occultation, of the planet Mars. While Izzy was fussing around looking for a place to go, I was looking at what seemed like a neck-and-neck footrace. With the clouds flying fast, it looked like the moon and Mars were racing hard against each other. But no, they were on a collision course. 

I read later that Mars was exceptionally bright, at its closest point to Earth in the year, and the so-called Cold Moon of December was definitely brilliant. I'd never seen this before, and the next one isn't until January 2025, and probably won't be this great a light show. 

Unfortunately, the cell phone camera speed isn't fast enough to get good pictures of celestial stuff. 

Here in the Northeast, the race went on until after my sack time. Apparently there was a pretty bad collision, because I hear that as of today there's no life on the moon or Mars. (har har) 

In the morning, the sky was clear and the two celestial bodies had gone their separate ways. Now there was about half an inch between them and growing. Well, without sounding paganistic, I'd like to hope that maybe with the moon blocking us from the god of war for a few hours, we could get a little extra peace on Earth this Christmastime. 

That's what passed for exciting around here on Wednesday, and I have to say, it's not bad. You can read about these things, but it's always more fun to see them for yourself. And if you stumble upon them by accident, it's pure serendipity. 

And that's the is it way.

NOW, THE NEWS

DATELINE: AUGUST 13, 2020

ALL THE PRINT WE NEWS THE FIT

(huh?)

WASHINGTON, DC -- Big Dipper Declared Racist

In a stunning announcement this morning following President Trump's speech outdoors in Virginia yesterday, the asterism known as the Big Dipper has been declared racist by the activist group People Endowed with Superior Tolerance (PEST).

"The president remarked last night how beautiful the Big Dipper was in the sky," said PEST leader Cheryl Snorch. "Aside for the obvious siziesm contained in the preference for the larger of the two Dippers, it is clear that the president intended this to be a dog whistle to his followers, who know how similar the path of the star cluster is to the infamous Nazi swastika."

President Trump, when asked about this at a press conference, said, "I don't care what anyone says, the Big Dipper, or Dipper of Large Proportions if you will, is the finest, the best constellation, really terrific, and everyone should go out and see it. It's just tremendous, believe me."

PEST has alerted its many followers that the Big Dipper should be disbanded and no longer recognized as a unified group.

📰📰📰

ALBANY, NY -- New York Hospitals Expand Definition of COVID-19 Deaths

Howard Zucker, MD, JD, Commissioner of Health for the State of New York, today announced that hospitals in the state would resolve the confusion about the number of deaths due to the novel COVID-19 virus by renaming all patient deaths as due to COVID-19.

"This seems the simplest way to resolve any disputes about the number of deaths due to the European COVID infection," said Dr. Zucker to reporters. "We feel that the infection rate of this unprecedented disease is so high that we might as well just assume everyone has it, and everyone died of it."

When asked whether that would include, for example, someone who perished in an automobile accident who just happened to test positive for the antibodies, Dr. Zucker said, "Of course. How are we to know that the effects of the virus did not in fact cause the accident? Better be safe and call that one a COVID death as well."

Dr. Zucker did, however, note that corpses were not going to be tested to see if they actually did have antibodies or other signs of infection. "Why put the great hospitals of this state to the expense?" he retorted. "It's not like the deceased can be treated at that stage."

In a closing statement, Dr. Zucker added that expanding the definition of COVID deaths to include everyone who actually dies is perfectly reasonable and has nothing to do with the false allegations of financial incentives to overcount coronavirus deaths, nor hospitals trying to get their hands on "those sweet, sweet Benjamins."

📰📰📰

WASHINGTON, DC -- Edible Camouflage Revealed

The Pentagon announced today the latest advance in military science for U.S. troops -- edible camouflage.

"Members of the infantry have to carry a hundred pounds or more in the field," according to the statement. "But now, by having camouflage made of delicious American-manufactured cheese, it will relieve them of much of the weight of comestibles. If they get hungry, they can eat some camo, and the load will be even lighter."

The statement mentioned that trials had been held using Colby and Monterey Jack for desert missions, blue cheese for water missions, and "moon" cheese (cheese that had gone off) for jungle work.

The Pentagon's statement concluded, "We are proud to know that we can take time from our usual missions, like transgender policy and white fragility, to make our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, and whoever else we have out there safer, in whatever it is they're supposed to be doing."

-30-

Star of stars.

Today is this guy's 81st birthday, or would have been if he were still with us. 

Jack Horkheimer was the director of Miami Space Transit Planetarium, but was known to most of us who saw him on PBS as the Star Gazer. Actually, I used to watch him when the show was Jack Horkheimer: Star Hustler back in the eighties.

Where we lived in New York City, which was late to adopt cable TV in our borough, I could get three PBS stations: WNET in the city, WLIW in Long Island, and WNJN out of Montclair, New Jersey. The latter two showed episodes of Dr. Who, mostly from the Jon Pertwee/Tom Baker/Peter Davidson seasons, although we also got Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy. They were all rather fuzzy, because those two PBS stations came over UHF. Anyway, Jack Horkheimer: Star Hustler was a five-minute show used as a bumper, and what better place to show it than between episodes of a science-fiction series?

I always enjoyed Horkheimer's enthusiasm for the subject. He'd tell us what was visible and where as the year progressed, and discuss any cool events like comets or eclipses or meteor showers. The episodes I saw he always wore that windbreaker, standing against the universe, like we were out there and it was a little chilly.

Much of what he was talking about was lost on me, though. Living in the city, the night sky was usually obscured with light pollution and plain ol' pollution pollution; we were lucky to see the moon. To this day there are only a handful of constellations I can identify with confidence, including the Dippers and Orion. I certainly can't blame my ignorance on Jack. He tried.

Here's an episode from 1991.

As far as I know, he always ended the show with the same tagline: "Keep looking up!"

A year or so ago I thought of his show and looked him up; I was sad to see that he had passed away, but hardly surprised. I was very happy to see what he'd requested on his tombstone:

"Keep Looking Up" was my life's admonition
I can do little else in my present position

Thanks, Jack Horkheimer; you certainly were an astronomical star in your own right.

Nerd snaps.

Yo mama is so fat, I saw her bearing a howdah.

I was reading about Ungoliant in The Silmarillion and I thought of yo mama.

If yo mama was an Egyptian queen, they'd bury her in the Food Pyramid.

I heard yo mama lost some weight -- got downgraded to a dwarf planet.

I saw yo mama the other day -- that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swol'n parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in her belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that mother ruffian, that vanity in years. She says hi.

I heard the doctor was trying to calculate yo mama's weight with f(x) = b^x but he ran out of numbers.

Gizmodo reports that the big jump scare in the new M. Night Shyamalan movie is a picture of yo mama.

Yo mama's so dumb she would invade Holland and leave her supply centers unsupported in the Mediterranean before a big Italian build round.

I was thinking of yo mama the other day when I heard the fourth movement of Holst's The Planets, and realized that was the closest thing to movement I ever associated with her.

I was looking up the pronunciation of "Chalchiuhtecólotl" and found out it was "yo mama."

I gather that yo mama is a fan of Sir Davy, the great chemical scientist who isolated various elements for the first time -- she was in the park yelling, "Humphry!"

My textbook says that some of the primary fatty acids are dodecanoic, tetradecanoic, eicosanoic, octanoic, octadecanoic, and yo mama.

I saw yo mama in Tod Browning's classic film Freaks. She was the one the freaks called "Ewwww! Gross!"

Yo mama suffers from excessive lack of intellectual and adaptive function and tremendous adipose tissue resulting in morbid obesity, has little moral rigor or regimentation of appetite, and her general appearance is disturbing. I pity you.

Far over the horizon.

This Friday's a full moon, which is nice.

Anyway, in looking into the solar probe for my article last Sunday, I got to thinking about this insane information about our other big sky friend, Mr. Moonlight:

Holy Toledo!

I'd seen that factoid on Cracked and heard that it came from Reddit, but despite that it actually turns out to be true. No wonder it took three days at, well, astronomical speed to get our astronauts to the moon. It's not like driving to the shore for vacation. Although it must be said that the traffic is better.

Our moon is ridiculously far away, 238,900 miles, and yet so strong. We sometimes think it looks huge, especially at Halloween.

Here the moon is orbiting Earth at a height of seventy miles.

But looking at the real moon in the real sky, one might think it's what, maybe a tenth the size of earth? Actually the moon is more than a quarter of the size of our planet. It's bigger than Pluto, which might be one of the reasons for Pluto's demotion to dwarf planet.

So I have to ask: Why is this moon thing hanging around us? And so far away? And yet it still pulls the tides. Its dark side shows the impacts of some meteors we would prefer to have struck there rather than here. Life on earth may not have emerged without the moon, which is one reason we may be very much more alone in the universe than we think. Not every planet is lucky enough to have such a cool accessory. We're lucky it showed up one day, however weirdly it happened.

So if this all isn't moon-mind-blowing enough for you, let me hit you with this factoid about Michael Collins you may not have heard. It's not original to me, but it ought to be shared widely.

Collins was, among other things, the astronaut who stayed behind on the command module of Apollo 11 while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin became the first men on the moon. Not sure if there was a short straw involved, but it doesn't seem so. In addition to being the only NASA astronaut to inspire a Jethro Tull song, Collins took this famous picture from the command module of Apollo 11:

As Rare Historical Photos put it, inside this frame is everybody on Earth who ever lived -- except Michael Collins.

He may not have been the first man on the moon, but that is an amazing claim to fame.

Forty-nine years ago our three guys had just come back from the first manned landing on the moon. Sometimes it seems more incredible with the passing of time.

Unrest on campus.

Just when you thought it was safe...

Eclipse: PR stunt.

The more I think about it, the more I understand that today's so-called "solar eclipse" is nothing but a public relations stunt. Yeah, you heard me. Who by? Who else? By the same people who brought you green cheese: the moon.

You got it -- I'm willing to take on Big Satellite here.

The moon has been trying to get attention for some time now. Remember last year's Supermoon? That turned out to be a big bust -- nothing but trouble. I was willing to cut the moon some slack at the time, but now I am more cynical. Now that I see the moon is just out for what it can get, that it only thinks of its own interest, I am convinced it caused all kinds of trouble on that fateful day and will probably get up to more lunar high jinks today.

Already the stupidity is starting. Price gouging for eclipse-related travel is an actual thing. Fake eclipse glasses may wind up causing permanent vision damage to the poor fools who bought them. And speaking of fools, there's the mom who wanted the eclipse moved so it wouldn't conflict with school, and the professor complaining in print that the path of the main eclipse zone has willfully followed non-black areas of the country. The Eclipse Is Racist!

Clearly, the moon is making us even dumber than usual. It is part of its plan.

And seriously, does the moon even need publicity? IMDb has more than 200 productions with the word "Moon" in the title. AllMusic lists over 1,000 songs with "Moon" in the title, and over 1,000 albums. Even the US Patent and Trademark Office lists 4,861 trademarks with "Moon" in it somewhere. If anything, the moon is suffering from overexposure.

I, for one, am not buying into this. I'm going to protest this eclipse nonsense. I'm going to totally ignore this desperate cry for attention. I understand our moon is lonely, all by himself up there (unlike Jupiter's greedy cache of 69 moons), but is that our fault? The moon was formed when something punched our planet -- it was an act of galactic violence. We didn't invite it. We're the victim here. And despite that we went through a lot of trouble to go visit, and even left some neat presents. Well, we'll see if we'll bother with that again anytime soon.

So you may be watching the skies today, but count me out of the hoopla. I'll just be enjoying the shade.

Orion's back!

Was outside very early Wednesday morning and saw the constellation Orion just about peeking over the southern horizon.

Not my picture, of course; this comes from the Hubble Space Telescope, courtesy of the University of Arizona Astronomy Department. When I saw Orion yesterday he was almost sideways on the horizon---relaxing in the glow of dawn.

Wikipedia tells us that during the summer Orion is in the northern hemisphere sky in the daylight hours, so we can't see him. I'm used to seeing him in the evenings during the winter, and since we got the dog (and I'm constantly being taken outside) I've seen him more in the last two winters than in my entire life prior to this. In any event, I didn't expect to see him in August, and I gather it's because the days are shortening up. The constellation must have been rising after sunup through July; now it's just before sunup.

I've liked Orion for a long time. I liked the Jethro Tull song first:

(Except for that one rhyme---"I'm high on" always made me cringe a little.)

I also liked the fact that Orion is very bright and very recognizable. When you grow up in a big city you don't see many constellations.

Orion the hunter had a pretty rough time of it in the myth. He did some terrible things, but so does absolutely everybody in Greek mythology. He paid some pretty heavy prices for his sins, and his destruction came at the hands of the gods, at least according to some stories; Apollo either tricked his sister Artemis into killing Orion, or Orion went crazy and threatened to kill every beast on earth, so Mother Earth sent a giant scorpion to take him out. However it happened, Orion got smited, and was placed among the stars.

When I see Orion I know that winter is on the way, so we're all about to get smited, too.

Pluto speaks!

If you used Google recently you know that we have been breathlessly waiting for word from Pluto. If you were in a cave instead, you may be wondering if we'll be hearing from Goofy and Donald next. Or if Pluto is so embarrassed by the Greek bailout that he's refusing to go by Hades anymore.

No, silly, it's the planet Pluto! Wired announced "Pluto Will Send Earth a Love Letter Tomorrow." What does this mean?

Well, Pluto apparently has a heart-shaped feature on it, and when the New Horizons probe flew by it was expected to get a good shot of it. Awww, cute, right?

WRONG!

My NASA contacts have managed to get me the actual "love letter" from Pluto picked up by the probe---not only is there no heart-shaped nothing, but the message from Pluto was less than loving:

Also heard was "Come out here and say it, punks!" and "I'm moonin' you with all five moons! You only got one! And you call yourselves a planet? Hey, you know what we got in common? No intelligent life!"

They get pretty touchy out there in the Kuiper Belt, don't they?

Taking up space.

"The good news is, we've found that hyperspace is real and may be useable! The bad news is that it will only shave 45 minutes off the trip."

Jupiter is a big fat pig.

People often say that the world is a lot more complicated than it was when they were children. Frankly, I no longer believe that. A little dose of history shows that things are always complicated, but that when you---or anyone, I'm not just picking on you---were a child, you did not know your butt from a hole in the ground. The proper distinction of butt from hole in the ground was your big conundrum, and once solved it seemed like you had this life thing licked.

Then you learned more and more, and life started to look a wee bit tougher.

That aside, one thing that has gotten more complicated is astronomy. For example: When I was a wee tot it was not too hard to know every moon in the solar system. We had one. Mars had two. Mercury and Venus were late getting up and missed the sale. Jupiter, the Big Bubba of the planets, had an astonishing twelve. Twelve moons! The upkeep had to be ridiculous. Some of them (like Ganymede) would have been planets on their own if Daddy would let them leave the farm, but no.

But it was not too hard to get to know them, to memorize them for the quiz on Friday.

Io, Europa, Ganymede, Calysto, Amalthea, Himalia, Elara, Pasiphae, Sinope, Lysithea, Carme, and Ananke.

Then they found Leda and Themisto. Okay, fourteen, but still not too complicated. And yet unsettling. How much further was this thing going to go?

Come to find out that there are now 67 confirmed moons around that big fat bastard! What the hell, Jupe! You greedy solar system slob! No wonder Venus and Mercury got hosed. You took 'em all!

The sad part is that they stopped giving them proper names a while ago. Like no one cared. After they had so many they stopped being special. "Behold the majesty of...uh, S/2003 J 2."

And don't get me started on the whole Pluto thing.

Trust me when I say life is not more complicated than it was when you were a kid. There's just more information and it's more readily available. The big questions are still big. The tough questions are still tough. But the trivia is an avalanche.