Archive for the ‘Culture’ Category

An old Star Trek episode called “A Taste for Armageddon” depicts Capt. Kirk and crew confronting a planetary culture that has adopted purely administrative warfare with a nearby planet, where computer simulations determine outcomes of battles and citizens/inhabitants are notified to report for their destruction in disintegration chambers to comply with those outcomes. Narrative resolution is tidied up within the roughly 1-hour span of the episode, of course, but it was and is nonetheless a thought-provoking scenario. The episode, now 50 years old, prophesies a hyper-rational approach to conflict. (I was 4 years old at the time it aired on broadcast television, and I don’t recall having seen it since. Goes to show how influential high-concept storytelling can be even on someone quite young.) The episode came to mind as I happened across video showing how robot soldiers are being developed to supplement and eventually replace human combatants. See, for example, this:

The robot in the video above is not overtly militarized, but there is no doubt that it will could be. Why the robot takes bipedal, humanoid form with an awkwardly high center of gravity is unclear to me beyond our obvious self-infatuation. Additional videos with two-wheeled, quadriped, and even insect-like multilegged designs having much improved movement and flexibility can be found with a simple search. Any of them can be transformed into ground-based killing machines, as suggested more manifestly in the video below highlighting various walking, rolling, flying, floating, and swimming machines developed to do our dirty work:

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I picked up a copy of Daniel Siegel’s book Mind: A Journey to the Heart of Being Human (2017) to read and supplement my ongoing preoccupation with human consciousness. Siegel’s writing is the source of considerable frustration. Now about 90 pp. into the book (I am considering putting it aside), he has committed several grammatical errors (where are book editors these days?), doesn’t really know how to use a comma properly, and doesn’t write in recognizable paragraph form. He has a bad habit of posing questions to suggest the answers he wants to give and drops constant hints of something soon to be explored like news broadcasts that tease the next segment. He also deploys a tired, worn metaphor that readers are on a journey of discovery with him, embarked on a path, exploring a subject, etc. Yecch. (A couple Amazon reviews also note that grayish type on parchment (cream) paper poses a legibility problem due to poor contrast even in good light — undoubtedly not really Siegel’s fault.)

Siegel’s writing is also irritatingly circular, casting and recasting the same sentences in repetitious series of assertions that have me wondering frequently, “Haven’t I already read this?” Here are a couple examples:

When energy flows inside your body, can you sense its movement, how it changes moment by moment?

then only three sentences later

Energy, and energy-as-information, can be felt in your mental experience as it emerges moment by moment. [p. 52]

Another example:

Seeing these many facets of mind as emergent properties of energy and information flow helps link the inner and inter aspect of mind seamlessly.

then later in the same paragraph

In other words, mind seen this way could be in what seems like two places at once as inner and inter are part of one interconnected, undivided system. [p. 53]

This is definitely a bug, not a feature. I suspect the book could easily be condensed from 330 pp. to less than 200 pp. if the writing weren’t so self-indulgent of the author. Indeed, while I recognize a healthy dose of repetition is an integral part of narrative form (especially in music), Siegel’s relentless repetition feels like propaganda 101, where guileless insistence (of lies or merely the preferred story one seeks to plant in the public sphere) wears down the reader rather than convinces him or her. This is also marketing 101 (e.g., Coca-Cola, McDonald’s, Budweiser, etc. continuing to advertise what are by now exceedingly well-established brands).

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What’s Missing

Posted: May 9, 2017 in Artistry, Cinema, Consumerism, Culture

Pessimists, misanthropes, fatalists, and doomers (I’m all types) often find themselves defending the position that maybe we don’t live at the very best, super-duper, tippy-top time in history, that although technology in particular has admittedly delivered some amazing innovations and improved our material conditions considerably even over our fairly recent past, we nonetheless lack spirituality and meaning — unless of course one’s spirituality and meaning are mistakenly found in technology. The technological sublime is so deceptively glamorous and ubiquitous that it obscures the idea that maybe another time and place made for a more ethical, moral, and noble life. (Experience varied widely, obviously.) In addition, personal freedoms enjoyed in liberal democracies are difficult to argue against, though that’s more characteristic of those at the very top of the socioeconomic heap than those of us below who know to keeps things buttoned up lest we discomfit our betters. Perhaps the most broadly enjoyed modern development is increased lifespan borne out of improved healthcare. And quite recently, the grossly expanded communications age (the information age is nested inside) reputedly makes learning and keeping in touch far easier than ever before. I won’t dispel any of these. However, I have two complaints against modernity as evidenced by a body of posts extending back through the life of this blog: life lacks many salutary aspects delivered passively by bygone social structures and technology smuggles in a host of problems with its bounty.

Among the failed attributes are (1) lack of a cohesive narrative for what life ought to mean beyond grubbing for money, chasing fame and social cachet, and overpopulating the planet with progeny (many of whom suffer neglect while parents are away grubbing for money), (2) lack of true community and social conditions necessary to be properly situated within a wholesome context, (3) spiritual and emotional vacuity, (4) destructive social presences and bullying, especially online (as exemplified by the Bully-in-Chief) and by civil authorities, (5) unrelenting, disorienting technological and social change, including slang and memes that are impossible to track fully without being in the thrall of celebrities, pundits, and media in general, (6) little prospect of things improving near term, and (7) the still-dawning realization that, like the existential angst from the so-called Atomic Age and its threat of complete nuclear annihilation, we possess tools sufficient to destroy ourselves many times over (including rotting ourselves out from the inside in a fevered race to the cultural bottom) and have unwittingly fired the slo-mo suicide gun. We’re only just waiting for the bullet to strike its target. Since the gun is industrial civilization, the target is all of us. Dead men walking, or perhaps more accurately, the zombie shuffle.

A significant minority has replied to this set of miserable circumstances by voting into office our our current president, 45. According to one astute commentator, 45 was never understood as a solution but rather a murder weapon used by the disenfranchised to kill the host, namely, our sick society run by plutocrats maniacally hellbent on destroying everyone outside their immediate concern, which is just about everybody.

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I pull in my share of information about current events and geopolitics despite a practiced inattention to mainstream media and its noisome nonsense. (See here for another who turned off the MSM.) I read or heard somewhere (can’t remember where) that most news outlets and indeed most other media, to drive traffic, now function as outrage engines, generating no small amount of righteousness, indignation, anger, and frustration at all the things so egregiously wrong in our neighborhoods, communities, regions, and across the world. These are all negative emotions, though legitimate responses to various scourges plaguing us currently, many of which are self-inflicted. It’s enough aggregate awfulness to draw people into the street again in principled protest, dissent, and resistance; it’s not yet enough to effect change. Alan Jacobs comments about outrage engines, noting that sharing via retweets is not the same as caring. In the Age of Irony, a decontextualized “yo, check this out!” is nearly as likely to be interpreted as support rather than condemnation (or mere gawking for entertainment value). Moreover, pointing, linking, and retweeting are each costless versions of virtue signaling. True virtue makes no object of publicity.

So where do I get my outrage quotient satisfied? Here is a modest linkfest, in no particular order, of sites not already on my blogroll. I don’t habituate these sites daily, but I drop in, often skimming, enough to keep abreast of themes and events of importance. (more…)

The Internet is now a little more than two decades old (far more actually, but I’m thinking of it’s widespread adoption). Of late, it’s abundantly clear that, in addition to being a wholesale change in the way we disseminate and gather information and conduct business, we’re running live social experiments bearing psychological influence, some subtle, some invasive, much like the introduction of other media such as radio, cinema, and TV back in the day. About six years ago, psychologists coined the term digital crowding, which I just discovered, referring to an oppressive sense of knowing too much about people, which in turn provokes antisocial reactions. In effect, it’s part of the Dark Side of social media (trolling and comments sections being other examples), one of numerous live social experiments.

I’ve given voice to this oppressive knowing-too-much on occasion by wondering why, for instance, I know anything — largely against my will, mind you — about the Kardashians and Jenners. This is not the sole domain of celebrities and reality TV folks but indeed anyone who tends to overshare online, typically via social media such as Facebook, less typically in the celebrity news media. Think of digital crowding as the equivalent of seeing something you would really prefer not to have seen, something no amount of figurative eye bleach can erase, something that now simply resides in your mind forever. It’s the bell that can’t be unrung. The crowding aspect is that now everyone’s dirty laundry is getting aired simultaneously, creating push back and defensive postures.

One might recognize in this the familiar complaint of Too Much Information (TMI), except that the information in question is not the discomfiting stuff such as personal hygiene or sexual behaviors. Rather, it’s an unexpected over-awareness of everyone’s daily minutiae as news of it presses for attention and penetrates our defenses. Add it to the deluge that is causing some of us to adopt information avoidance.

Even before I begin, you must know what the title means. It’s the proliferation of options that induces dread in the toothpaste aisle of the store. Paste or gel? Tartar control or extra whitening? Plain, mint, cinnamon, or bubble gum? The matrix of combinations is enough to reduce the typical shopper to a quivering state of high anxiety lest the wrong toothpaste be bought. Oh, how I long for the days when choices ran solely between plain Crest and Colgate. I can’t say whether the toothpaste effect originated with oral hygiene. A similarly bewildering host of choices confronts shoppers in the soft drink aisle. Foodstuffs seem especially prone to brand fragmentation. Woe be the retailer forced to shelve all 38 Heinz products on this page. (True, some are just different packaging of the same basic item, but still.)

Purveyors of alcoholic beverages are on the bandwagon, too. I rather like the bygone cliché of the cowboy/gunslinger riding off the range, swinging into the saloon, and ordering simply “whisky.” Nowadays, even a poorly stocked bar is certain to have a dozen or so whiskys (see this big brand list, which doesn’t include sub-brands or craft distillers.) Then come all the varieties of schnapps, rum, and vodka, each brand further fragmented with infusions and flavorings of every imaginable type. Some truly weird ones are found here. Who knew that these spirits were simply blank canvases awaiting the master distiller’s crazy inventiveness.

/rant on

What really gets my bile flowing on this issue, however, is the venerable Lays potato chip. Seriously, Frito-Lay, what are you thinking? You arguably perfected the potato chip, much like McDonald’s perfected the French fry. (Both are fried potato, interestingly.) Further, you have a timeless, unbeatable slogan: “betcha can’t eat just one.” The plain, salted chip, the “Classic” of the Lays brand, cannot be improved upon and is a staple comfort food. Yet you have succumbed to the toothpaste effect and gone haywire with flavorings (I won’t even countenance the Wavy, Poppables, Kettle-Cooked, Ruffles, and STAX varieties). For variety’s sake, I’d be content with a barbecue chip, maybe even salt & vinegar, but you’ve piled on past the point of ridiculousness:

  • cheddar & sour cream (a favorite of mine)
  • Chile limón
  • deli style
  • dill pickle
  • flamin’ hot
  • honey barbecue
  • limón
  • pico de gallo
  • salt & vinegar (not to my taste)
  • sour cream & onion (a good alternative)
  • sweet Southern heat barbecue
  • Southern biscuits & gravy
  • Tapatío (salsa picante)

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I finished Graham Hancock’s Fingerprints of the Gods (1995). He saved the best part of the book, an examination of Egyptian megalithic sites, for the final chapters and held back his final conclusion — more conjecture, really — for the tail end. The possible explanation Hancock offers for the destruction and/or disappearance of a supposed civilization long predating the Egyptian dynasties, the subject of the entire book, is earth-crust displacement, a theory developed by Charles Hapgood relating to polar shifts. Long story short, evidence demonstrates that the Antarctic continent used to be 2,000 miles away from the South Pole (about 30° from the pole) in a temperate zone and may have been, according to Hancock, the home of a seafaring civilization that had traveled and mapped the Earth. It’s now buried under ice. I find the explanation plausible, but I wonder how much the science and research has progressed since the publication of Fingerprints. I have not yet picked up Magicians of the Gods (2015) to read Hancock’s update but will get to it eventually.

Without having studied the science, several competing scenarios exist regarding how the Earth’s crust, the lithosphere, might drift, shift, or move over the asthenosphere. First, it’s worth recognizing that the Earth’s rotational axis defines the two poles, which are near but not coincident with magnetic north and south. Axial shifts are figured in relation to the crust, not the entire planet (crust and interior). From a purely geometric perspective, I could well imagine the crust and interior rotating as different speeds, but since we lack more than theoretical knowledge of the Earth’s liquid interior (the inner core is reputedly solid), only the solid portions at the surface of the sphere offer a useful frame of reference. The liquid surfaces (oceans, seas) obviously flow, too, but are also understood primarily in relation to the solid crust both below and above sea level.

The crust could wander slowly and continuously, shift all at once, or some combination of both. If all at once, the inciting event might be a sudden change in magnetic stresses that breaks the entire lithosphere loose or perhaps a gigantic meteor hit that knocks the planet as a whole off its rotational axis. Either would be catastrophic for living things that are suddenly moved into a substantially different climate. Although spacing of such events is unpredictable and irregular, occurring in geological time, Hancock assembles considerable evidence to conclude that the most recent such occurrence was probably about 12,000 BCE at the conclusion of the last glacial maximum or ice age. This would have been well within the time humans existed on Earth but long enough ago in our prehistory that human memory systems record events only as unreliable myth and legend. They are also recorded in stone, but we have yet to decipher their messages fully other than to demonstrate that significant scientific knowledge of astronomy and engineering were once possessed by mankind but was lost until redeveloped during the last couple of centuries.

First, a few reminders:

  • The United States has been in an undeclared state of war for 15 years, the longest in U.S. history and long enough that young people today can say legitimately, “we’ve always been at war with Oceania.” The wars encompass the entirety of both terms of the Obama Administration.
  • The inciting events were attacks on U.S. soil carried out on September 11, 2001 (popularly, 9/11), which remain shrouded in controversy and conspiracy despite the official narrative assigning patsy blame to al-Qaida operating in Afghanistan and Iraq.
  • On the heels of the attacks, the Bush Administration commenced a propaganda campaign to sell invasion and regime change in those two countries and, over widespread public protest, went ahead and launched preemptive wars, ostensibly because an existential threat existed with respect to weapons of mass destruction (WMDs) possessed by Iraq in particular.
  • The propaganda campaign has since been revealed to have been cooked up and untrue, yet it buffaloed a lot of people into believing (even to this day) that Iraq was somehow responsible for 9/11.
  • Our preemptive wars succeeded quickly in toppling governments and capturing (and executing) their leaders but immediately got bogged down securing a peace that never came.
  • Even with an embarrassing mismatch of force, periodic troop surges and draw downs, trillions of dollars wasted spent prosecuting the wars, and incredible, pointless loss of life (especially on the opposing sides), our objective in the Middle East (other than the oil, stupid!) has never been clear. The prospect of final withdrawal is nowhere on the horizon.

Continuous war — declared or merely waged — has been true of the U.S. my whole life, though one would be hard pressed to argue that it truly represents an immediate threat to U.S. citizens except to those unlucky enough to be deployed in war zones. Still, the monkey-on-the-back is passed from administration to administration. One might hope, based on campaign rhetoric, that the new executive (45) might recognize continuous war as the hot potato it is and dispense with it, but the proposed federal budget, with its $52 billion increase in military spending (+10% over 2016), suggests otherwise. Meanwhile, attention has been turned away from true existential threats that have been bandied about in the public sphere for at least a decade: global warming and climate change leading to Near-Term Extinction (NTE). Proximal threats, largely imagined, have absorbed all our available attention, and depending on whom one polls, our worst fears have already been realized.

The 20th and 21st centuries (so far) have been a series of “hot” wars (as distinguished from the so-called Cold War). Indeed, there has scarcely been a time when the U.S. has not been actively engaged fighting phantoms. If the Cold War was a bloodless, ideological war to stem the nonexistent spread of communism, we have adopted and coopted the language of wartime to launch various rhetorical wars. First was LBJ’s War on Poverty, the only “war” aimed at truly helping people. Nixon got into the act with his War on Drugs, which was punitive. Reagan expanded the War on Drugs, which became the War on Crime. Clinton increased the punitive character of the War on Crime by instituting mandatory minimum sentencing, which had the side effect of establishing what some call the prison-industrial complex, inflating the incarceration rate of Americans to the point that the U.S. is now ranked second in the world behind the Seychelles (!), a ranking far, far higher than any other industrialized nation.

If U.S. authoritarians hadn’t found enough people to punish or sought to convince the public that threats exist on all sides, requiring constant vigilance and a massive security apparatus including military, civil police, and intelligence services comprised of 16 separate agencies (of which we know), Bush coined and declared the War on Terror aimed at punishing those foreign and domestic who dare challenge U.S. hegemony in all things. It’s not called a national security state for nuthin’, folks. I aver that the rhetorical War on Poverty has inverted and now become a War on the Poverty-Stricken. De facto debtors’ prisons have reappeared, predatory lending has become commonplace, and income inequality grows more exaggerated with every passing year, leaving behind large segments of the U.S. population as income and wealth pool in an ever-shrinking number of hands. Admittedly, the trend is global.

At some point, perhaps in the 1960s when The Establishment (or more simply, The Man) became a thing to oppose, the actual Establishment must have decided it was high time to circle the wagons and protect its privileges, essentially going to war with (against, really) the people. Now five decades on, holders of wealth and power demonstrate disdain for those outside their tiny circle, and our the government can no longer be said with a straight face to be of, by, and for the people (paraphrasing the last line of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address). Rather, the government has been hijacked and turned into something abominable. Yet the people are strangely complicit, having allowed history to creep along with social justice in marked retreat. True threats do indeed exist, though not the ones that receive the lion’s share of attention. I surmise that, as with geopolitics, the U.S. government has brought into being an enemy and conflict that bodes not well for its legitimacy. Which collapse occurs first is anyone’s guess.

I often review my past posts when one receives a reader’s attention, sometimes adding tags and fixing typos, grammar, and broken links. One on my greatest hits (based on voting, not traffic) is Low Points in Education. It was among the first to tackle what I have since called our epistemological crisis, though I didn’t begin to use the epistemology tag until later. The crisis has caught up with a vengeance, though I can’t claim I’m the first to observe the problem. That dubious honor probably goes to Stephen Colbert, who coined the word truthiness in 2005. Now that alternative facts and fake news have entered the lingo as well (gaslighting has been revived), everyone has jumped on the bandwagon questioning the truthfulness or falsity behind anything coughed up in our media-saturated information environment. But as suggested in the first item discussed in Low Points in Education, what’s so important about truth?

It would be obvious and easy yet futile to argue in favor of high-fidelity appreciation of the world, even if only within the surprisingly narrow limits of human perception, cognition, and memory (all interrelated). Numerous fields of endeavor rely upon consensus reality derived from objectivity, measurement, reason, logic, and, dare I say it, facticity. Regrettably, human cognition doesn’t adhere any too closely to those ideals except when trained to value them. Well-educated folks have better acquaintance with such habits of mind; folks with formidable native intelligence can develop true authority, too. For the masses, however, those attributes are elusive, even for those who have partied through earned college degrees. Ironically worse, perhaps, are specialists, experts, and overly analytical intellectuals who exhibit what the French call a déformation professionelle. Politicians, pundits, and journalists are chief among the deformed and distorted. Mounting challenges to establishing truth now destabilize even mundane matters of fact, and it doesn’t help that myriad high-profile provocateurs (including the Commander in Chief, to whom I will henceforth refer only as “45”) are constantly throwing out bones for journalists to chase like so many unnourishing rubber chew toys.

Let me suggest, then, that human cognition, or more generally the mind, is an ongoing balancing act, making adjustments to stay upright and sane. Like the routine balance one keeps during locomotion, shifting weight side to side continuously, falling a bit only to catch oneself, difficulty is not especially high. But with the foundation below one’s feet shaking furiously, so to speak, legs get wobbly and many end up (figuratively at least) ass over teakettle. Further, the mind is highly situational, contingent, and improvisational and is prone to notoriously faulty perception even before one gets to marketing, spin, and arrant lies promulgated by those intent on coopting or directing one’s thinking. Simply put, we’re not particularly inclined toward accuracy but instead operate within a wide margin of error. Accordingly, we’re quite strong at adapting to ever-changing circumstance.

That strength turns out to be our downfall. Indeed, rootless adjustment to changing narrative is now so grave that basic errors of attribution — which entities said and did what — make it impossible to distinguish allies from adversaries reliably. (Orwell captured this with his line from the novel 1984, “Oceania was at war with Eurasia; therefore Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia.) Thus, on the back of a brazen propaganda campaign following 9/11, Iraq morphed from U.S. client state to rogue state demanding preemptive war. (Admittedly, the U.S. State Department had already lost control of its puppet despot, who in a foolish act of naked aggression tried to annex Kuwait, but that was a brief, earlier war quite unlike the undeclared one in which the U.S. has been mired for 16 years.) Even though Bush Administration lies have been unmasked and dispelled, many Americans continue to believe (incorrectly) that Iraq possessed WMDs and posed an existential threat to the U.S. The same type of confusion is arguably at work with respect to China, Russia, and Israel, which are mixed up in longstanding conflicts having significant U.S. involvement and provocation. Naturally, the default villain is always Them, never Us.

So we totter from moment to moment, reeling drunkenly from one breathtaking disclosure to the next, and are forced to reorient continuously in response to whatever the latest spin and spew happen to be. Some institutions retain the false sheen of respectability and authority, but for the most part, individuals are free to cherry-pick information and assemble their own truths, indulging along the way in conspiracy and muddle-headedness until at last almost no one can be reached anymore by logic and reason. This is our post-Postmodern world.

As a boy, my home included a coffee table book, title unknown, likely published circa 1960, about the origins of human life on Earth. (A more recent book of this type attracting lots of attention is Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (2015) by Yuval Harari, which I haven’t yet read.) It was heavily enough illustrated that my siblings and I consulted it mostly for the pictures, which can probably be excused since we were youngsters at the time time. What became of the book escapes me. In the intervening decades, I made no particular study of the ancient world — ancient meaning beyond the reach of human memory systems. Thus, ancient could potentially refer to anthropological history in the tens of thousands of years, evolutionary history stretching across tens of millions of years, geological history over hundreds of millions of years, or cosmological time going back a few billions. For the purpose of this blog post, let’s limit ancient to no more than fifty thousand years ago.

A few months ago, updates (over the 1960 publication) to the story of human history and civilization finally reached me (can’t account for the delay of several decades) via webcasts published on YouTube between Joe Rogan, Randall Carlson, and Graham Hancock. Rogan hosts the conversations; Carlson and Hancock are independent researchers whose investigations converge on evidence of major catastrophes that struck the ancient world during the Younger Dryas Period, erasing most but not all evidence of an antediluvian civilization. Whereas I’m a doomer, they are catastrophists. To call this subject matter fascinating is a considerable understatement. And yet, it’s neither here nor there with respect to how we conduct our day-to-day lives. Their revised history connects to religious origin stories, but such narratives have been relegated to myth and allegory for a long time already, making them more symbolic than historical.

In the tradition of Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, and Darwin, all of whom went against scientific orthodoxy of their times but were ultimately vindicated, Carlson and Graham appear to be rogue scientists/investigators exploring deep history and struggling against the conventional story of the beginnings of civilization around 6,000 years ago in the Middle East and Egypt. John Anthony West is another who disputes the accepted narratives and timelines. West is also openly critical of “quackademics” who refuse to consider accumulating evidence but instead collude to protect their cherished ideological and professional positions. The vast body of evidence being pieced together is impressive, and I truly appreciate their collective efforts. I’m about 50 pp. into Hancock’s Fingerprints of the Gods (1995), which contains copious detail not well suited to the conversational style of a webcast. His follow-up Magicians of the Gods (2015) will have to wait. Carlson’s scholarly work is published at the website Sacred Geometry International (and elsewhere, I presume).

So I have to admit that my blog, launched in 2006 as a culture blog, turned partially into a doomer blog as that narrative gained the weight of overwhelming evidence. What Carlson and Hancock in particular present is evidence of major catastrophes that struck the ancient world and are going to repeat: a different sort of doom, so to speak. Mine is ecological, financial, cultural, and finally civilizational collapse borne out of exhaustion, hubris, frailty, and most importantly, poor stewardship. Theirs is periodic cataclysmic disaster including volcanic eruptions and explosions, great floods (following ice ages, I believe), meteor strikes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and the like, each capable of ending civilization all at once. Indeed, those inevitable events are scattered throughout our geological history, though at unpredictable intervals often spaced tens or hundreds of thousands of years apart. For instance, the supervolcano under Yellowstone is known to blow roughly every 600,000 years, and we’re overdue. Further, the surface of the Moon indicates bombardment from meteors; the Earth’s history of the same is hidden somewhat by continuous transformation of the landscape lacking on the Moon. The number of near misses, also known as near-Earth objects, in the last few decades is rather disconcerting. Any of these disasters could strike at any time, or we could wait another 10,000 years.

Carlson and Hancock warn that we must recognize the dangers, drop our petty international squabbles, and unite as a species to prepare for the inevitable. To do otherwise would be to court disaster. However, far from dismissing the prospect of doom I’ve been blogging about, they merely add another category of things likely to kill us off. They give the impression that we should turn our attention away from sudden climate change, the Sixth Extinction, and other perils to which we have contributed heavily and worry instead about death from above (the skies) and below (the Earth’s crust). It’s impossible to say which is the most worrisome prospect. As a fatalist, I surmise that there is little we can do to forestall any of these eventualities. Our fate is already sealed in one respect or another. That foreknowledge make life precious for me, and frankly, is another reason to put aside our petty squabbles.