What did you say ?

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A recent survey found that “Deafness can lead to divorce”. Deafness can lead to heated arguments between couples and even marital breakdown, according to a survey about the social consequences of hearing loss published today. Actually it can also lead to death of pedestrians, as in the deaf man who stepped off the pavement, only to be knocked down by the bus. He died of deafness; he didn’t hear it coming.

Apparently the hard-of-hearing partner often feels upset that their spouse does not understand what it is like to suffer from the condition, the poll found. Contrarily, the deaf person's reluctance to recognize their condition and do anything about it is also a major source of stress. Joan McKechnie, an audiologist with the firm HearingDirect.com, which carried out the survey, said the problem was that many people were "in denial". She said: "It can be a real shock for many people in their middle age who begin to experience hearing loss, as they do not like the idea of wearing a hearing aid, which has a real stigma associated with “disabled” and old people.

Two-thirds also admitted to bluffing their way through conversations, while a half said they had become depressed and isolated. A spokesman for the Royal National Institute for Deaf People (RNID) said: "Incredibly it can take up to 15 years for some people with hearing loss to get the help they need, a sad fact when you consider the impact hearing loss has on family and work life. "People with hearing loss often feel isolated from work colleagues and loved ones, and we would encourage anyone who thinks they may have a hearing loss to take action now.”

There is another argument of course and that is, a little deafness goes a long way to achieving marital harmony. After all who among us hasn’t, if they were completely honest, feigned momentarily deafness? Typically when it’s time to take the garbage out, or do the washing up. Or even “put the remote down and listen to me will you”! The response to which is not “in a pig’s ear” Best usually to ask one’s partner to repeat the question, just for clarification you understand. My wife calls it the passing train syndrome. “Can you help me with this” becomes a slow, rising murmur, getting louder and louder, then receding into the distance as the moment passes. The Doppler Effect in effect.

Now, take my wife (please!). Last year she called to say (cue for a song) come quickly, there’s a man selling frozen lobsters 10 for at $30, yes honestly. I quickly did the math. And pray tell, what is it about the American language that insists on the singular mathematics? What the hell is “math”? What, so there’s only one sum in math, nothing else, no division, multiplication? I don’t think so. So, this chap had set up his pickup truck by the curb, kerb, no sorry, sidewalk, with a sign selling boxes of said lobsters, other frozen shellfish, lamb, steaks and assorted cuts at a discount. I know, I know, that was my first reaction, what are you smoking, this can’t possibly be real. She was so excited that off she trots to the nearest ATM to get the required cash. I arrive; we look at the opened boxes, all very nice but are they all kosher I wonder? No, no, not because we’re Jewish or anything, but, well, you know. We’ll take a box of the lobsters, she says, he says that’ll be $130. Yes, that’s $130 not $30. Hello? The next day she had her ears blast cleaned!

Which reminds me of the time my father was contacted to schedule a urine test. Much surprised he denied needing one, well you would wouldn’t you. Upon clarification it was the medical office asking him to come in for a hearing test…well, they do sound alike don’t they, hearing and urine?

Related articles

• How Common Is Hearing Loss? (everydayhealth.com)
• 'I'm far too vain to wear a hearing aid' (telegraph.co.uk)

Cosmic Distance Ladder and Space Rulers

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No, this is not a reference to The Dark Star, Star Trek enemies or even the Kardashians

You see, almost six years ago Michael Brown, Professor of Planetary Astronomy at the California Institute of Technology, announced that newly found exo-planet Eris was larger than Pluto. Subsequent discussions at the International Astronomers Union resulted in a new definition of a “planet”, ultimately leading to the demotion of Pluto to a Dwarf planet. And then there were eight. I wonder what Mickey and Snow White would say to that?

But new calculations, reported in the New York Science Times article recently concerning the Planet formerly known as Pluto and its interloper Eris, suggest the possibility that this may have been a big mistake. New observations by a Paris Observatory team hinted that, even after accounting for uncertainties, that the largest possible Eris is still smaller than the smallest possible Pluto. Who to believe? Sounds like the green-eyed monster woke up; mine’s bigger than yours.

Over the many years since its discovery in 1930 Pluto’s size has been downsized (I know the feeling!) so many times as increasingly accurate measuring systems have been developed, that led one astro-comic to declare that, after plotting it’s age and subsequent recalculations of mass and distance on a graph, it should actually have disappeared by 1984. Stargazers with a sense of humor, who knew!

Despite their being billions of miles apart they would apparently look exactly the same size in the sky with any differences really only visible, as Dr. Brown stated, by measuring with a “really, really big ruler”. Astrognomes are very precise with their measurements, and how do we know this? Because boys and girls, they work with Standard rulers. A Standard ruler is an astronomical object whose approximate size is known such that by measuring its apparent angular diameter in the sky, one can determine its distance from Earth. Or so they say.

The point being that cosmic distances are quite difficult to determine, especially as they rely successively on ever more complex methodologies. There’s the problem sunshine; not enough rulers. This succession of methods is known as the cosmic distance ladder. Real direct distance measurements to an astronomical object is only possible for those objects that are "close enough" (within about three thousand light years) to Earth.

The ladder analogy arises because no one technique can measure distances at all ranges encountered in astronomy. Each rung of the ladder provides information that can be used to determine the distances at the next higher rung. For example, several methods rely on a Standard Candle, which is an astronomical object that has a known luminosity. Wow, this Astronomy business is really complicated; first we had standard rulers, now we have standard candles. Whatever will they think of next? Standard lamps? An Evening Standard maybe? So, by comparing the known luminosity of a Standard Candle to its observed brightness, the distance to the object can be computed using the inverse square law. Such objects of known brightness are termed standard candles.

Sounds to me that this cosmic laddering leads to massive amounts of distance approximations which are increasingly inaccurate the further away we measure. Why not think of a Very Large Number, add a few zeroes and call it wally. Which just goes to prove that Astronomy is only a slightly more accurate version of Astrology, peering through the mists of time, the cosmic crap, and the galactic garbage to ascertain the truth about who we are, where did we come from, and where are we going. It just used more high tech equipments like candles and rulers, rather than crystal balls.

A significant issue with Standard candles is the recurring question of how standard they are. For example, all observations seem to indicate that type Ia Supernovae, that are of known distance, have the same brightness. But if the properties of Supernovae type Ia are different at large distances then “Houston we have a problem”. This is not just a philosophical issue. For example, in the 1950s, Walter Baade discovered that the nearby Cepheid variables used to calibrate the Standard candle were of a different type than the ones used to measure distances to nearby galaxies. The nearby Cepheid variables were population I stars with much higher metal content than the distant population II stars. As a result, the population II stars were actually much brighter than believed, and this had the effect of doubling the distances to the globular clusters, the nearby galaxies, and the diameter of the Milky Way. Whoops!

And even last year Pieter van Dokkum, a professor of astronomy at Yale Charlie Conroy of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics in Cambridge, Mass., reported in the journal Nature that the number of stars in the universe had been undercounted, and they now estimate that there could be three times as many stars out there as originally thought. Wow, three times more.

It’s all to do with how you count the dwarf stars that can’t be seen outside of our own Milky Way galaxy, which requires assumptions based upon the color of light being emitted by galaxies. These astronomes found that the proportions of dwarf stars to Sun-like stars in elliptical galaxies was 1,000 or 2,000 to 1, rather than the 100 to 1 in the Milky Way. A typical elliptical galaxy, thought to consist of about 100 billion stars, would therefore have one trillion or more stars. But such galaxies only account for about a third of all galaxies, leading to the new estimate of at least three times as many stars over all.

Like I said earlier, any number estimates that Astronerds come up with can always be improved by adding a few zeroes. Either that or we need some new candles and a more accurate ruler. You can have mine; its twelve inches but I don’t use it as a rule.

Related articles

• Cosmology Standard Candle not so Standard After All (spacefellowship.com)
• Objects in the Telescope May Be Closer Than They Appear (news.sciencemag.org)
• Star light, star less bright helps measure universe (canada.com)
• Cosmic census finds crowd of planets in our galaxy (msnbc.msn.com)

Planes, Travails and Automobiles – Part 2

Did you see that the good news/bad news US Department of Agriculture released new Dietary Guidelines? Among the surprises, ketchup is no longer a food group. But "Alcohol consumption may have beneficial effects when consumed in moderation". Moderation being two snorts a day. Tick, done that! Also "...may help to keep cognitive function intact with age". Yup, we're on track. The bad news...due to the potentially negative effects, non-topers should not start a two a day regimen. So there you have it. Is 9.30 too early to start? Hic?

Gave my wife a bit of a surprise whilst out shopping in Ann Taylors emporium when, after spending some quality time with the other chaps on "sitting on the bench waiting to pay the bill duty", an interesting conversation took place. Promised an extra 20% off everything, in addition to the existing discounted clothing, by merely signing up for the store card provided that some form of photo ID was proffered. No problem, my husband has a driving license she said (the UK card version not the floppy paper one that long ago disintegrated into various wallets). Er, no, I never drive with it on me. Genuine shocked look on face. Apparently in Florida and most states the law requires you to have it about your person when driving. I always leave it in the hotel with other travel documents. Well, if stopped we would have played the Johnny Foreigner card. Anyway we managed to get the card, and the manager gave us another 5% off everything. Must have been the accent.

Sunday we visited the local temple of worship to purchase baked beans (Heinz of course) and hot dawgs ‘cos tonight is Super-Bowl Sunday, with the Green Bay Packers fighting the Pittsburg Steelers in a game apparently called football; how strange. The tedium of stop-start play, that makes Rugby Union look like a high speed waltz, is only relieved by anticipation of new advertisements by the big corporates. And unbelievably, the two finalists are teams that don't have cheer-leaders! Whuh? What's a man to do? All we can do now is look forward to some half-time show female wardrobe malfunction.

It's a strange game when compared to real football; it seems to be a cross between British Bulldogs and Rugby, without the finesse of the latter. It's all about "plays", with coaches on the sidelines wearing big self-important communication sets, and leafing through "playbooks". Then there are the armies of offense and dee-fense players who seem to wander on and off the field at the first sign of a scrum. What, they're so big and lumbering that after 10 yards of play they need a rest? My, oh my, tell that to real football players who are on the pitch for 40 consecutive minutes of continuous play, with nary a chance of refreshment! And did you know how the name Soccer was derived? I'll tell you. After the formation of the Football Association, league members were known as Associationers, which became abbreviated to soccer.

There’s a reason why we work, and do all those other things, it’s to enjoy the time when you don’t have to. And so, all good things come to an end and our Florida vacation week was no exception.

Breakfast over, house-closing checklist completed for the next few hours of worry-free driving, we set off for Gainesville and a lunch meeting with my wife’s prior to catching the flight to Atlanta. A noticeable number of snow-birds seen heading south, towing an unusual variety of run-around vehicles to permit escape from the RV park and commune with the rest of us in supermarkets and the like. Now a compact car, small Jeep, even an SUV I can understand, but a long speed boat with two huge outboard motors? Perhaps they haven’t quite thought this through; it’s a little tricky boating to the local Publix in a speedboat without leaving huge gouges in the tarmac.

We waved to our usual truck-driver friends, Peter Bilt, Mack Truck (didn’t see his vicious brother, Mack the Knife) , listened to the usual MOR suspects on the radio, Foreigner, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John and The Eagles. After about half-way we stopped for a shot of Java at a nearby Mickey D’s. Well, we had never seen such a collection of misfits collected under one roof. Quite scary, most of them looked like refugees from the Ozarks after generations of inbreeding. Think of the film Deliverance and you’ll begin to get the picture. It was a relief to leave.

Local airports are always interesting places, tending to the local bonhomie of local folk underemployed, married to the respect expected by people in uniform, which comes across as friendly officiousness. Gainesville has about 15 arrivals/departures per day, but they managed to have 2 flights scheduled to arrive within 5 minutes of each other, that really put a strain on the staff I can tell you. Well, not really. The flights are mostly regional jet types, packing in around SOB’s per plane (actually Souls on Board in official airline speak, but more like Sons of Bitches according to the cabin crew). But they did seem to have an unusually high number of TSA staff giving us the third-degree, perhaps they’d got the new full body scanners and were trying to sneak a peek. The departure/arrivals hall is one lounge, and there are three gates. We were travelling on Delta airlines and as is typical with airline frequent flyer programs, they have to try and impress, even to the extent of two lines; one for frequent flyers represented by a flashy sign and a one yard long piece of, slightly grubby, red carpet.

The one good thing about regional airports is that you will almost certainly have an on-time departure, without being 20th in line so typical of New York and Chicago say. And so we did, saving 20 minutes on the flight due to exceptionally strong tail-winds. After we leveled off, the trolley dolly only had time to serve us all our drinks and not even collect the used cups before we were on final approach into Atlanta. With tissue saturated, iced-drink remnants in plastic cups squeezed into the seat back, good luck cleaning that up before the next flight!

With our flights booked separately we couldn’t coordinate seat assignments, but some sweet talk with the check-in girl arranged everything. Sitting at the back of the bus, inches away from the jet engines of the MD88, in a 3 by 2 seating plan we were lucky, finally, to have a row of 3 to ourselves and what a difference it makes. Again, an on-time departure and what good luck to have Mr. Delta airlines super-pilot flying us. Turns out that flying the same route the day before, this chap had achieved a Delta fastest speed record, achieving an incredible 738mph, due to the fast-moving tail winds! A quick check to the back of the in-flight magazine revealed that this plane only cruises at 505mph. As we approached Mach 1 a Hasidic couple got out their prayers books and read aloud together but even that wasn’t enough but we did manage a pretty snappy 659mph. That’s some tail wind.

It all had to end in tears, and it did as I predicted. It’s all very well flapping your wings to get there faster, but when you arrive, where will you park the damned plane? And so it came to pass, landing at LaGuardia we taxied to the Delta terminal and then came the unmistakable sound of the turbine engines spooling down, followed by the dreaded ping-pong sound of your friendly cabin attendant with the bad news that all gates are full, and did we mind waiting 15 minutes. Quelle surprise. Unfortunately the correct response is not “why certainly, we’ll have another Bloody Mary and some more of those nice peanuts.” The next sound was a loud sigh by 150 people as the bubble of goodwill to Delta, for speeding us to our destination, pops and collapses in a heap.

There’s one more thing guaranteed to ruin the end of a flight, especially after sitting on the tarmac contemplating your navel, winning the lottery at the magic roundabout with all bags intact, and that is…you’ve guessed…no cabs. That’s right, and bearing in mind that it was only about 7.30pm, we’re at LaGuardia, New York not Podunk Ohio, and there are only a few cabs trickling through. There must have been fifty people on line. And one cabbie, perhaps as a joke who knows, sat about 100 yards away with his “cab available” light on, not moving. Tensions ran high, and as we all craned our necks to see what he would do you could feel the collective will of the mob silently plead with him to move forward, and then and then, he was off duty. So cruel and heartless.

Until next time…

Planes, Travails and Automobiles – Part 1

We recently left a snowed-in and slushy New York bound for warmer climes, a prospect enough to raise even her ladyship from slumber. Requiring a 4.00am wake up call, her tiredness soon to be dissolved by a bracing cup of Mr. Tetley's finest.

La Guardia was busy even at just gone 5.00am with a line for the slowest pat-down, shakedown we've ever experienced. It's amazing that people still travel with belts and lace up shoes, despite having to disrobe in front of the travelling hoi polloi. C'mon peoples, help yourselves do. Coffee and a bagel in Delta's new-look departure lounge fitted out with small tables and chairs totally unsuited to the modern American physique. With power ports everywhere, iPads galore Delta are clearly pandering to the self-important business traveler, and depriving many casual flyers of good old fashioned row seats. Such is progress. Or as my wife would say, it’s time to leave the cave.

Boarding was surprisingly prompt and swift, barring idiots who insist on stuffing their roll-ons to the gills, thereby frustrating the cabin crew’s attempt to achieve an on-time departure, or should I say, on-time push back. In time-honored tradition we start, stop, and perform the slow waltz across the taxiways until Mr. Big Shot at the pointy end deigns to tell us that we are 5th in-line for takeoff.

Full plane of course, and I'd forgotten how cramped it can be back in cattle class, and this was no exception. A year or so ago the major airlines all inserted two extra rows of seats, but Delta must have snuck in another two rows without telling anyone. Inserted into our seats like square pegs into square holes, or looking at today's flyers more like a round peg in a square hole, I may have had an inch of leg-room max, it was that close. Of course the dingbat in front of me even tried to take that away. I resisted with my usual trick, both knees firmly pressed into the seat back. Only partially successful, I nearly resorted to that other failsafe; standing up and coughing violently. Sorry mate it’s this Asian Flu, I can’t seem to shake it.

Collected the rental from Enterprise, who scared us by denying the availability of a vehicle (not our reservation you understand, just the vehicle) as they were extremely busy and many rentals were returning late. Fortunately the problem was solved by the Branch Manager who had more authority than the desk jockey. So instead of the 2nd smallest category (think Toyota Yaris), he gave us a Mazda 6 SUV, nice one! We'll lose a bit more on the gas but at least we can look down at folk in their little buzz boxes.

Blasting down I75 for a straight drive we paused to gas up. Now, I have had my "issues" with American gas pumps and this proved to be the rule. Driving into the Chevron the gas wouldn’t flow, not for me nor anyone else. It was vapor lock or something, so we crossed the road to the BP. Well, so did all the other frustrated Chevron gas seekers, so we all circled the pumps eyeing one another up, daring not to blink first and lose a coveted slot. Incredibly, half the cars at the pumps appeared to be driverless (cue "Twilight Zone" music). What were they all doing inside the gas station, having a weekly social or chatting up the skank behind the till? We didn't hang around to find out, as we raced off to find another gas-station.

Driving down one off ramp we saw signs in one store for knives, guns and ammo, gator meat, and air boats for sale. Yup, we're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy! We also passed by the Don Garlitz Drag Racing Museum. Don was the Big Daddy of early drag racing years.

Interestingly we found ourselves rehashing conversation about the same songs heard on last year's road trip to Florida. Was that Billy Ocean? No, it's the singer that sounds like him. Oh, right, now I remember. And surprisingly we only heard Hotel California once as we skipped in and out of local FM reception. Almost at our destination we spied a huge Confederate flag, and thought this is no place for northern Yanky dogs. But a few hundred yards down the road we saw signs for the Martin Luther King Jnr. Blvd., and then the light bulb went on. Now we know who they're sticking it to!

Stocking up at Publix, the local "big box" supermarkets, with aisles you could drive a truck through I even recognized one of the baggers at the till, a tall tanned gentleman by the name of John. He was morose last year, and nothing's changed! Amazing places these big supermarkets. Busy seems to be a relative term. With miles of lighting and refrigeration units howdo they actually pay the utility bills, never mind earn a profit. Mind you they have gotten a bit smarter. Going in at 7.00am the freezer cabinets have motion sensors, so as you enter the aisle looking for waffles, frozen veg. or whatever, banks of them come to light. It's quite fun to race down the aisle and see how fast they light up! Yes, yes I know, simple pleasures.

Browsing for a book to read by the pool I saw that there were 7 gun magazines in the racks. Incredible, for a country that's prudish about abortion rights and gays serving in the military, there’s no problem with disgruntled misfits going postal with Sub-machine guns. When the Constitution was amended to allow the "people" to bear arms, Jefferson should have said "using the arms we have at this time". Anyway he forgot so the National Rifle Association perpetuates gun-owning as a God-given right up there with baseball, Mom and apple-pie. The NRA, whose membership requirements run to rednecks and good 'ol boys (singing whiskey and rye!) of course says that people kill people, not guns. Gun opponents, predictably, say the opposite. Here's an idea, why not ban all non-military use of guns south of the Mason-Dixon line? That way they can get on with their drinking, drinking and other manly Southern pursuits such as organizing “Does your Mom kiss better than my Sister” contests.

Perusing the shelves for items we don't get in New York, I spied jars of Fluff. Fluff for sale I tell you. Who knew we needed it? It was of course, after the required closer inspection, Marshmallow Fluff, which must mean something to Americans but what I haven’t fathomed yet. Then, it's always fun to look at the ethnic section, see what classes as foreign down in Gulf Coast Florida. Lots of Goya products on sale, presumably for the lawnmower brigades. And by the way, what is the fascination with Refried Beans, they’re bad enough the first time, frying them twice is like putting lipstick on a pig.

The good news for Anglo-Floridians was that Birds English custard powder is available, along with Ambrosia rice pudding, Aero bars and Mr. Tate & Lyles treacle golden syrup. Ah yes, there'll always be an England...

Stocking up at the local liquor store we saw a sign for Manatee oral and facial surgery. How considerate we thought, that some caring doctor is providing services for the Manatee. Have you ever seen one? I can tell you, with a face like that surgery should definitely be an option. After recuperating from surgery they can also belly up to the Manatee golf course for a few rounds, and even pop into the Manatee social center for a few rubbers of bridge. If you haven't guessed, Manatee is the county name for this area. No, no, don't tell me, you thought...