aads

109-116/366: Catching Up, Holiday Edition [Uncertain Principles]

I’m back after the traditional family holiday and a less traditional trip to Charleston, SC for the Renaissance Weekend meeting. Which means things will start to return to what passes for normal around here, and that means it’s time to get caught up on photo-a-day pictures…

What with one thing and another, there was one day in December when I didn’t take a single picture, not even a crappy cell-phone snapshot. Not sure how that happened. I’ll fill it in at some point with an extra from a day when I got multiple good images, but this catch-up post will be one short of the actual calendar span covered.

109/366:

We were really late getting our Christmas tree this year, because the annual trip to Florida was a bit later than past years. But we did get one from the slim picking left at the tree lot, and here it is:

The Chateau Steelypips tree, 2015.

The Chateau Steelypips tree, 2015.

110/366:

The missing day is between these two– on Sunday the 20th, I managed not to take any photos. Not sure how. On the 21st, I went down to NYC to visit my friend Andy who was in from the West Coast, and while I didn’t take my good camera, I did take a couple of shots with my phone on the way:

View out the window of the Amtrak train coming up on the Tappan Zee Bridge.

View out the window of the Amtrak train coming up on the Tappan Zee Bridge.

The sepia effect here isn’t a crappy electronic filter effect, but a real physical filter, namely the tinted windows on the Amtrak train. You take what you can get.

111/366:

A couple of years ago, my parents got a nifty wooden Advent calendar for the kids, with doors you open to reveal little gifts and whatnot. Here it is, near the end of the countdown:

The wooden Advent calendar in Chateau Steelypips.

The wooden Advent calendar in Chateau Steelypips.

112/366:

One of the things about getting up early enough to get SteelyKid ready for school is that I’ve seen a lot of fog in the last couple of years. Which is really pretty, but damnably difficult to photograph– mostly it just looks like you screwed up a camera setting somehow. Here’s one of my better attempts:

SteelyKid's bus on a foggy morning.

SteelyKid’s bus on a foggy morning.

I actually took this because I needed an illustration for a silly Christmas post at Forbes about Rayleigh scattering, but it serves well as a photo of the day, too.

113/366:

Every Christmas Eve, we get together with my dad’s side of the family for a traditional Polish celebration, usually at my Uncle John’s house. This year, it was absurdly warm– I wore a short-sleeved shirt to the party– and after dinner, the kids took their rampaging outside. Where there was a full(ish) moon and some high thin clouds:

The moon on Christmas Eve.

The moon on Christmas Eve.

Note the faint colors in the halo around the moon. Optical physics is cool.

114/366:

Christmas morning, of course, there were many presents opened, but as I’ve said many times, I try to avoid having this be the Cute Kid Photo of the Day, so here’s one of the few photos that doesn’t involve SteelyKid or The Pip:

The Christmas tree at my parents' house.

The Christmas tree at my parents’ house.

I took this in part to test out my spiffy new external flash unit (replacing an old one that got broken a while back), which lets me do indirect flash easily and thus reduce the amount of screwing around with GIMP I need to do.

115/366:

SteelyKid has long been a big fan of Lego sets, and in the last year or so has gotten into Minecraft. Thus, Lego Minecraft sets featured prominently in this year’s gifts:

An intermediate stage of SteelyKid's Lego Minecraft empire.

An intermediate stage of SteelyKid’s Lego Minecraft empire.

Really, these are perfect for each other. She put essentially all of this together herself, by the way– I helped sort out the pieces for each step, and when there were steps calling for multiple copies of the same thing, I’d make one of the duplicates. But she’s great with these, and really didn’t need me.

116/366:

I try to keep it from being “Cute Kid Photo of the Day,” but can’t always succeed:

SteelyKid helping the Pip make his Lego firefighter set.

SteelyKid helping the Pip make his Lego firefighter set.

The Pip also likes Lego sets, but the “junior” ones are still a little challenging for him to get together. So he enlisted his sister to help out.

That gets us to the 27th, the day before I left for South Carolina. Which is a nice natural breakpoint, so I’ll stop here, and do another catch-up post later.



from ScienceBlogs http://ift.tt/1TxI5uH

I’m back after the traditional family holiday and a less traditional trip to Charleston, SC for the Renaissance Weekend meeting. Which means things will start to return to what passes for normal around here, and that means it’s time to get caught up on photo-a-day pictures…

What with one thing and another, there was one day in December when I didn’t take a single picture, not even a crappy cell-phone snapshot. Not sure how that happened. I’ll fill it in at some point with an extra from a day when I got multiple good images, but this catch-up post will be one short of the actual calendar span covered.

109/366:

We were really late getting our Christmas tree this year, because the annual trip to Florida was a bit later than past years. But we did get one from the slim picking left at the tree lot, and here it is:

The Chateau Steelypips tree, 2015.

The Chateau Steelypips tree, 2015.

110/366:

The missing day is between these two– on Sunday the 20th, I managed not to take any photos. Not sure how. On the 21st, I went down to NYC to visit my friend Andy who was in from the West Coast, and while I didn’t take my good camera, I did take a couple of shots with my phone on the way:

View out the window of the Amtrak train coming up on the Tappan Zee Bridge.

View out the window of the Amtrak train coming up on the Tappan Zee Bridge.

The sepia effect here isn’t a crappy electronic filter effect, but a real physical filter, namely the tinted windows on the Amtrak train. You take what you can get.

111/366:

A couple of years ago, my parents got a nifty wooden Advent calendar for the kids, with doors you open to reveal little gifts and whatnot. Here it is, near the end of the countdown:

The wooden Advent calendar in Chateau Steelypips.

The wooden Advent calendar in Chateau Steelypips.

112/366:

One of the things about getting up early enough to get SteelyKid ready for school is that I’ve seen a lot of fog in the last couple of years. Which is really pretty, but damnably difficult to photograph– mostly it just looks like you screwed up a camera setting somehow. Here’s one of my better attempts:

SteelyKid's bus on a foggy morning.

SteelyKid’s bus on a foggy morning.

I actually took this because I needed an illustration for a silly Christmas post at Forbes about Rayleigh scattering, but it serves well as a photo of the day, too.

113/366:

Every Christmas Eve, we get together with my dad’s side of the family for a traditional Polish celebration, usually at my Uncle John’s house. This year, it was absurdly warm– I wore a short-sleeved shirt to the party– and after dinner, the kids took their rampaging outside. Where there was a full(ish) moon and some high thin clouds:

The moon on Christmas Eve.

The moon on Christmas Eve.

Note the faint colors in the halo around the moon. Optical physics is cool.

114/366:

Christmas morning, of course, there were many presents opened, but as I’ve said many times, I try to avoid having this be the Cute Kid Photo of the Day, so here’s one of the few photos that doesn’t involve SteelyKid or The Pip:

The Christmas tree at my parents' house.

The Christmas tree at my parents’ house.

I took this in part to test out my spiffy new external flash unit (replacing an old one that got broken a while back), which lets me do indirect flash easily and thus reduce the amount of screwing around with GIMP I need to do.

115/366:

SteelyKid has long been a big fan of Lego sets, and in the last year or so has gotten into Minecraft. Thus, Lego Minecraft sets featured prominently in this year’s gifts:

An intermediate stage of SteelyKid's Lego Minecraft empire.

An intermediate stage of SteelyKid’s Lego Minecraft empire.

Really, these are perfect for each other. She put essentially all of this together herself, by the way– I helped sort out the pieces for each step, and when there were steps calling for multiple copies of the same thing, I’d make one of the duplicates. But she’s great with these, and really didn’t need me.

116/366:

I try to keep it from being “Cute Kid Photo of the Day,” but can’t always succeed:

SteelyKid helping the Pip make his Lego firefighter set.

SteelyKid helping the Pip make his Lego firefighter set.

The Pip also likes Lego sets, but the “junior” ones are still a little challenging for him to get together. So he enlisted his sister to help out.

That gets us to the 27th, the day before I left for South Carolina. Which is a nice natural breakpoint, so I’ll stop here, and do another catch-up post later.



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Perry Marshall 2.0 [Pharyngula]

This is weird. Perry Marshall has posted a complete transcript of our discussion on Unbelievable on his website. That’s actually useful, since most of us can read faster than someone else can talk. What’s weird is that he’s annotated it with his rebuttals, after the fact.

It’s like — and this has happened to me — you give a student an exam, and they do poorly on it, and they come in to your office to argue for more points not by pointing out errors in the grading (that happens, too), but by explaining to you how their understanding of the material was vastly superior to yours, and that you’d recognize that their answers were correct if only the professor had their deep understanding of cellular and genetic processes. In these situations, the student is always digging themselves into a deeper hole, and revealing that they don’t understand what they’re talking about at all.

For instance, he seems quite taken with Barbara McClintock’s work, and talked about it a fair bit. He got it all wrong. He claims that she was denying the existence of chance events in genetics — that everything was about patterned, engineered information, which is the damnedest interpretation of McClintock. He urges everyone to read her Nobel speech, which is good, but I’ve read her original papers and lecture on this subject in my genetics class. So it’s amusing to see him take a dig at me about it.

PZ doesn’t appear knowledgeable about McClintock’s work. Her findings perplex Darwinists because Darwinism has no grid for cells re-engineering themselves… but that’s exactly what they do in experiments.

McClintock was studying a phenomenon called chromosomal instability, in which the results of inheritance were not easily predictable. The opening sentences of her Nobel speech set the stage.

An experiment conducted in the mid-nineteen forties prepared me to expect unusual responses of a genome to challenges for which the genome is unprepared to meet in an orderly, programmed manner. In most known instances of this kind, the types of response were not predictable in advance of initial observations of them.

Note: unusual responses, a genome unprepared to meet in an orderly, programmed manner, responses that are not predictable. Most of us would read that and understand that it was going to be about chance events — events without predictable, programmatic, mechanistic responses. Not Perry Marshall! McClintock talks about stress-induced reorganization of the genome, and he leaps to the conclusion that she’s describing a teleological phenomenon in which the genome reshapes itself directly to address the circumstances, when every process she actually describes is about increasing variation.

For instance, he’s obsessed with transposition. He thinks this is engineering.

Transposition is when the cell moves a defined cassette of coding sequences and plugs it into a new location. [The “cassette” link shows transposition cassettes in experiments with zebrafish]

Transposition is not just inserting unspecified DNA sequences. Transpositions are by their very structure non-random, and would be even if there were no pattern to where insertions occur.

Aaargh. Yes. Transposition involves taking a chunk of DNA sequence and moving it to a different place in the genome. We can take advantage of that by making a gene of interest the ‘chunk’ and getting it to insert somewhere. Somewhere random. That’s the whole point. These are called jumping genes for a reason.

McClintock also described the bridge-breakage-fusion cycle. Marshall doesn’t understand it. He read the words in her speech and lacked the background to see what she’s talking about. Here’s the way it works.

You’ve got a chromosome with a duplication of a set of genes, as illustrated below. This allows for a misalignment of the homologous chromosomes, and for a crossover event to produce a peculiar chimera, a dicentric chromosome.

dicentric

Notice that these chromosomes have two centromeres each. The centromere is a kind of handle that motor fibers grab onto and use to tow the chromosome to one side of the cell or the other during cell division. This chromosome has two, so what can happen is that one centromere gets pulled to the left, the other gets pulled to the right, and you see something called an anaphase bridge form between the two sides. It’s a tug-of-war, with the chromosome the rope stretched between two forming cells, and these opposite poles are pulling on it.

What do you think happens? The rope breaks. It breaks at some random point between the two centromeres.

breakage

The breakage point is also typically a dangling bit of single-stranded DNA, with no telomeres. DNA repair mechanisms kick into gear and fuse the two dangling ragged strands of two homologous chromosomes back together, reforming the bridge so that when the cell divides again, it will break at a random point once more. And so the cycle begins again.

That’s why it’s called the bridge-breakage-fusion cycle. The chromosomes reform into a configuration that minimizes exposed, broken ends, but can’t last through cell division, so they’re constantly broken, reassembled, and broken again, producing a changing distribution of genes in each generation.

indian-corn

McClintock describes this in her Nobel speech. Marshall missed the relevant bits. She was trying to explain how a certain strain of corn developed variegations — that is, irregular, unpredictable patterns of streaks or patches in the tissue. It’s basically a random phenomenon, like the pattern of colors in kernels of Indian corn, and she predicted that it was caused by random breakages during cell division of a ring chromosome (a chromosome where the two ends are damaged, and are repaired to form a loop of DNA).

It was the behavior of this ring that proved to be significant. It revealed several basic phenomena. The following was noted: (I) In the majority of mitoses replication of the ring chromosome produced two chromatids that were completely free from each other and thus could separate without difficulty in the following anaphase. (2) Sister strand exchanges do occur between replicated or replicating chromatids, and the frequency of such events increases with increase in the size of the ring. These exchanges produce a double-size ring with two centromeres. (3) Mechanical rupture occurs in each of the two chromatid bridges formed at anaphase by passage of the two centromeres on the double-size ring to opposite poles of the mitotic spindle. (4) The location of a break can be at any one position along any one bridge. (5) The broken ends entering a telophase nucleus then fuse. (6) The size and content of each newly constructed ring depend on the position of the rupture that had occurred in each bridge.

What she’s saying is that crossing over between ring chromosomes can produce dicentric chromosomes, as in my diagram above, and that during cell division the bridge can mechanically rupture, and most importantly for this conversation, in point 4, “The location of a break can be at any one position along any one bridge”. That is, it can break randomly anywhere along the bridge, and then point 6, the gene “content of each newly constructed ring depend on the position of the rupture”. Each daughter cell gets a random selection of the genes along that bridge.

That’s the whole point. You’re trying to explain a random phenotype by looking for a randomization mechanism in the genome. McClintock’s triumph was being able to explain random variation within an organism that by convention ought to be genetically uniform by mechanistic processes like transposition and bridge-breakage-fusion.

As expected, Marshall has just dug himself a deeper hole with his rebuttal. I repeat: he doesn’t understand what McClintock was saying.



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This is weird. Perry Marshall has posted a complete transcript of our discussion on Unbelievable on his website. That’s actually useful, since most of us can read faster than someone else can talk. What’s weird is that he’s annotated it with his rebuttals, after the fact.

It’s like — and this has happened to me — you give a student an exam, and they do poorly on it, and they come in to your office to argue for more points not by pointing out errors in the grading (that happens, too), but by explaining to you how their understanding of the material was vastly superior to yours, and that you’d recognize that their answers were correct if only the professor had their deep understanding of cellular and genetic processes. In these situations, the student is always digging themselves into a deeper hole, and revealing that they don’t understand what they’re talking about at all.

For instance, he seems quite taken with Barbara McClintock’s work, and talked about it a fair bit. He got it all wrong. He claims that she was denying the existence of chance events in genetics — that everything was about patterned, engineered information, which is the damnedest interpretation of McClintock. He urges everyone to read her Nobel speech, which is good, but I’ve read her original papers and lecture on this subject in my genetics class. So it’s amusing to see him take a dig at me about it.

PZ doesn’t appear knowledgeable about McClintock’s work. Her findings perplex Darwinists because Darwinism has no grid for cells re-engineering themselves… but that’s exactly what they do in experiments.

McClintock was studying a phenomenon called chromosomal instability, in which the results of inheritance were not easily predictable. The opening sentences of her Nobel speech set the stage.

An experiment conducted in the mid-nineteen forties prepared me to expect unusual responses of a genome to challenges for which the genome is unprepared to meet in an orderly, programmed manner. In most known instances of this kind, the types of response were not predictable in advance of initial observations of them.

Note: unusual responses, a genome unprepared to meet in an orderly, programmed manner, responses that are not predictable. Most of us would read that and understand that it was going to be about chance events — events without predictable, programmatic, mechanistic responses. Not Perry Marshall! McClintock talks about stress-induced reorganization of the genome, and he leaps to the conclusion that she’s describing a teleological phenomenon in which the genome reshapes itself directly to address the circumstances, when every process she actually describes is about increasing variation.

For instance, he’s obsessed with transposition. He thinks this is engineering.

Transposition is when the cell moves a defined cassette of coding sequences and plugs it into a new location. [The “cassette” link shows transposition cassettes in experiments with zebrafish]

Transposition is not just inserting unspecified DNA sequences. Transpositions are by their very structure non-random, and would be even if there were no pattern to where insertions occur.

Aaargh. Yes. Transposition involves taking a chunk of DNA sequence and moving it to a different place in the genome. We can take advantage of that by making a gene of interest the ‘chunk’ and getting it to insert somewhere. Somewhere random. That’s the whole point. These are called jumping genes for a reason.

McClintock also described the bridge-breakage-fusion cycle. Marshall doesn’t understand it. He read the words in her speech and lacked the background to see what she’s talking about. Here’s the way it works.

You’ve got a chromosome with a duplication of a set of genes, as illustrated below. This allows for a misalignment of the homologous chromosomes, and for a crossover event to produce a peculiar chimera, a dicentric chromosome.

dicentric

Notice that these chromosomes have two centromeres each. The centromere is a kind of handle that motor fibers grab onto and use to tow the chromosome to one side of the cell or the other during cell division. This chromosome has two, so what can happen is that one centromere gets pulled to the left, the other gets pulled to the right, and you see something called an anaphase bridge form between the two sides. It’s a tug-of-war, with the chromosome the rope stretched between two forming cells, and these opposite poles are pulling on it.

What do you think happens? The rope breaks. It breaks at some random point between the two centromeres.

breakage

The breakage point is also typically a dangling bit of single-stranded DNA, with no telomeres. DNA repair mechanisms kick into gear and fuse the two dangling ragged strands of two homologous chromosomes back together, reforming the bridge so that when the cell divides again, it will break at a random point once more. And so the cycle begins again.

That’s why it’s called the bridge-breakage-fusion cycle. The chromosomes reform into a configuration that minimizes exposed, broken ends, but can’t last through cell division, so they’re constantly broken, reassembled, and broken again, producing a changing distribution of genes in each generation.

indian-corn

McClintock describes this in her Nobel speech. Marshall missed the relevant bits. She was trying to explain how a certain strain of corn developed variegations — that is, irregular, unpredictable patterns of streaks or patches in the tissue. It’s basically a random phenomenon, like the pattern of colors in kernels of Indian corn, and she predicted that it was caused by random breakages during cell division of a ring chromosome (a chromosome where the two ends are damaged, and are repaired to form a loop of DNA).

It was the behavior of this ring that proved to be significant. It revealed several basic phenomena. The following was noted: (I) In the majority of mitoses replication of the ring chromosome produced two chromatids that were completely free from each other and thus could separate without difficulty in the following anaphase. (2) Sister strand exchanges do occur between replicated or replicating chromatids, and the frequency of such events increases with increase in the size of the ring. These exchanges produce a double-size ring with two centromeres. (3) Mechanical rupture occurs in each of the two chromatid bridges formed at anaphase by passage of the two centromeres on the double-size ring to opposite poles of the mitotic spindle. (4) The location of a break can be at any one position along any one bridge. (5) The broken ends entering a telophase nucleus then fuse. (6) The size and content of each newly constructed ring depend on the position of the rupture that had occurred in each bridge.

What she’s saying is that crossing over between ring chromosomes can produce dicentric chromosomes, as in my diagram above, and that during cell division the bridge can mechanically rupture, and most importantly for this conversation, in point 4, “The location of a break can be at any one position along any one bridge”. That is, it can break randomly anywhere along the bridge, and then point 6, the gene “content of each newly constructed ring depend on the position of the rupture”. Each daughter cell gets a random selection of the genes along that bridge.

That’s the whole point. You’re trying to explain a random phenotype by looking for a randomization mechanism in the genome. McClintock’s triumph was being able to explain random variation within an organism that by convention ought to be genetically uniform by mechanistic processes like transposition and bridge-breakage-fusion.

As expected, Marshall has just dug himself a deeper hole with his rebuttal. I repeat: he doesn’t understand what McClintock was saying.



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Quadrantids best before dawn January 4

Quadrantid meteor streaking by Spica, Virgo’s brightest star. Photo via Navicore.

The annual Quadrantid shower is nominally active during the first week of January, and is best seen from northerly latitudes. However, peak activity lasts less than a day. So you need to be on the night side of Earth when this shower exhibits its relatively short peak to witness the Quadrantids. In 2016, we don’t expect the waning crescent moon to seriously obtrude on this meteor shower. So if you’re game, try watching between midnight and dawn on January 4.

This meteor shower favors the Northern Hemisphere. That’s because its radiant point – the point in the sky from which the meteors appear to radiate – is far to the north on the sky’s dome.

The Quadrantid meteor shower is capable of matching the meteor rates of the better known August Perseid and December Geminid showers. It has been known to produce up to 50-100 or more meteors per hour in a dark sky.

So why isn’t the Quadrantid shower as celebrated as the Perseid and Geminid showers? It’s because the Quadrantid shower has a narrow peak that lasts for only a few hours. If you miss the peak – which is easy to do – you won’t see many meteors.

If you’re thinking of watching the Quadrantids, do it. Meteor shower peaks are rarely certain, and sometimes a gamble on a shower will reward you with a good show. Just be aware you might not see a whole lot of meteors! No matter where you are in the Northern Hemisphere, the best time to watch is between midnight and dawn, local time. Fortunately, the waning crescent moon shouldn’t intrude too greatly on the January 2016 Quadrantid meteor shower!

Moonrise times for your sky

The radiant point for the Quadrantids is far to the north on the sky's dome. That's why this shower is better for the Northern Hemisphere than the Southern Hemisphere.

The radiant point for the Quadrantids is far to the north on the sky’s dome. That’s why this shower is better for the Northern Hemisphere than the Southern Hemisphere.

The Quadrantid shower is named after the defunct 19th century constellation Quadrans Muralis. If you trace the paths of the Quandrantids backward, they appear to radiate from a point where this constellation once reigned in the sky. If you wish, you can locate the Quadrantid radiant in reference to the Big Dipper and the bright star Arcturus. Use the chart at the top of this post.

But you don’t need to find the radiant to enjoy the Quadrantids. You need a dark, open sky, and you need to look in a general north-northeast direction for an hour or so before dawn. That’s the Quadrantid meteor shower – from late night January 3 to dawn January 4, 2016 – for the world’s northerly latitudes. Who knows? This shower can produce up to 50 or more meteors per hour, but its peak is rather short and sweet. Just before dawn on January 4, the waning crescent moon will be rather close to Mars, and you can use the moon and Mars to guide you to three more morning planets. Jupiter shines to the west of the moon and Jupiter, and the planets Venus and Saturn sit low in the southeast during the dark hour before dawn.

It'll be worth getting up in the wee hours just to see the lineup of planets. The green line depicts the ecliptic - Earth's orbital plane projected onto the dome of sky.

It’ll be worth getting up in the wee hours just to see the lineup of planets. The green line depicts the ecliptic – Earth’s orbital plane projected onto the dome of sky.

Looking for a sky almanac? EarthSky recommends…

Bottom line: If you’re extremely lucky – and at the right northerly location on the globe – perhaps you’ll see some Quadrantid meteors in the predawn hours on January 4.

Want more? Try this post. Everything you need to know: Quadrantid meteor shower

EarthSky’s meteor shower guide for 2016

Big and Little Dippers: Noticeable in northern sky

Arcturus: follow the arc



from EarthSky http://ift.tt/1wEBULd

Quadrantid meteor streaking by Spica, Virgo’s brightest star. Photo via Navicore.

The annual Quadrantid shower is nominally active during the first week of January, and is best seen from northerly latitudes. However, peak activity lasts less than a day. So you need to be on the night side of Earth when this shower exhibits its relatively short peak to witness the Quadrantids. In 2016, we don’t expect the waning crescent moon to seriously obtrude on this meteor shower. So if you’re game, try watching between midnight and dawn on January 4.

This meteor shower favors the Northern Hemisphere. That’s because its radiant point – the point in the sky from which the meteors appear to radiate – is far to the north on the sky’s dome.

The Quadrantid meteor shower is capable of matching the meteor rates of the better known August Perseid and December Geminid showers. It has been known to produce up to 50-100 or more meteors per hour in a dark sky.

So why isn’t the Quadrantid shower as celebrated as the Perseid and Geminid showers? It’s because the Quadrantid shower has a narrow peak that lasts for only a few hours. If you miss the peak – which is easy to do – you won’t see many meteors.

If you’re thinking of watching the Quadrantids, do it. Meteor shower peaks are rarely certain, and sometimes a gamble on a shower will reward you with a good show. Just be aware you might not see a whole lot of meteors! No matter where you are in the Northern Hemisphere, the best time to watch is between midnight and dawn, local time. Fortunately, the waning crescent moon shouldn’t intrude too greatly on the January 2016 Quadrantid meteor shower!

Moonrise times for your sky

The radiant point for the Quadrantids is far to the north on the sky's dome. That's why this shower is better for the Northern Hemisphere than the Southern Hemisphere.

The radiant point for the Quadrantids is far to the north on the sky’s dome. That’s why this shower is better for the Northern Hemisphere than the Southern Hemisphere.

The Quadrantid shower is named after the defunct 19th century constellation Quadrans Muralis. If you trace the paths of the Quandrantids backward, they appear to radiate from a point where this constellation once reigned in the sky. If you wish, you can locate the Quadrantid radiant in reference to the Big Dipper and the bright star Arcturus. Use the chart at the top of this post.

But you don’t need to find the radiant to enjoy the Quadrantids. You need a dark, open sky, and you need to look in a general north-northeast direction for an hour or so before dawn. That’s the Quadrantid meteor shower – from late night January 3 to dawn January 4, 2016 – for the world’s northerly latitudes. Who knows? This shower can produce up to 50 or more meteors per hour, but its peak is rather short and sweet. Just before dawn on January 4, the waning crescent moon will be rather close to Mars, and you can use the moon and Mars to guide you to three more morning planets. Jupiter shines to the west of the moon and Jupiter, and the planets Venus and Saturn sit low in the southeast during the dark hour before dawn.

It'll be worth getting up in the wee hours just to see the lineup of planets. The green line depicts the ecliptic - Earth's orbital plane projected onto the dome of sky.

It’ll be worth getting up in the wee hours just to see the lineup of planets. The green line depicts the ecliptic – Earth’s orbital plane projected onto the dome of sky.

Looking for a sky almanac? EarthSky recommends…

Bottom line: If you’re extremely lucky – and at the right northerly location on the globe – perhaps you’ll see some Quadrantid meteors in the predawn hours on January 4.

Want more? Try this post. Everything you need to know: Quadrantid meteor shower

EarthSky’s meteor shower guide for 2016

Big and Little Dippers: Noticeable in northern sky

Arcturus: follow the arc



from EarthSky http://ift.tt/1wEBULd

New site, new stories [The Weizmann Wave]

Cells that “spit” out their contents and messenger RNA that is not so swift at delivering its message. Those are two brand new stories on our new and improved website. Check it out and let us know what you think.

The first story arose from a simple question: How do secretory cells – those that produce copious amounts of such substances as tears, saliva or all those bodily fluids – manage to get their contents out of the cell? Cells are walled all the way around; they don’t really have doors for letting things the size of a drop of fluid out. Instead, they use the vesicle system – small globes made of the same stuff as the cell membrane that transport the drops out to the edge. The vesicles then fuse with the membrane, releasing their cargo to the outside.

Prof. Ben-Zion Shilo and his group realized that this was all well and fine for small amounts of biochemicals, but secretory cells would need a better system. Their results, which involved a lot of intricate time-lapse observation in the saliva glands of fruit-fly larvae, are beautiful to watch as well as instructive.

Salivary gland of a larval fruit fly. Vesicles (red) carrying the glue must empty their contents quickly and efficiently

Salivary gland of a larval fruit fly. Vesicles (red) carrying the glue must empty their contents quickly and efficiently

The second story arose from a surprising observation: Certain liver cells that are involved in metabolism seemed to have large amounts of messenger RNA in their nuclei.  Why would RNA stick around in the cell nucleus, instead of rushing out to make proteins? Dr. Shalev Itzkovitz and his group followed up on this question by asking further questions: How many cells keep RNA in their nuclei? How long does this RNA tend to stay? Which genes produce the homebody RNA?

Although they have not yet answered every one of their questions, they have uncovered a new level of regulation in the cell – one that is not immediately intuitive.

Nuclei of liver cells, mRNA of certain genes in white

Nuclei of liver cells, mRNA of certain genes in white

Revealing how some cells get rid of their contents or discovering that others hoard things deep within – neither finding will cure disease tomorrow. Both are changing our understanding of how the human cell functions, and both are going to contribute, in the future, to human health and welfare. We promise to keep bringing you these stories and more.



from ScienceBlogs http://ift.tt/1R8fY7Y

Cells that “spit” out their contents and messenger RNA that is not so swift at delivering its message. Those are two brand new stories on our new and improved website. Check it out and let us know what you think.

The first story arose from a simple question: How do secretory cells – those that produce copious amounts of such substances as tears, saliva or all those bodily fluids – manage to get their contents out of the cell? Cells are walled all the way around; they don’t really have doors for letting things the size of a drop of fluid out. Instead, they use the vesicle system – small globes made of the same stuff as the cell membrane that transport the drops out to the edge. The vesicles then fuse with the membrane, releasing their cargo to the outside.

Prof. Ben-Zion Shilo and his group realized that this was all well and fine for small amounts of biochemicals, but secretory cells would need a better system. Their results, which involved a lot of intricate time-lapse observation in the saliva glands of fruit-fly larvae, are beautiful to watch as well as instructive.

Salivary gland of a larval fruit fly. Vesicles (red) carrying the glue must empty their contents quickly and efficiently

Salivary gland of a larval fruit fly. Vesicles (red) carrying the glue must empty their contents quickly and efficiently

The second story arose from a surprising observation: Certain liver cells that are involved in metabolism seemed to have large amounts of messenger RNA in their nuclei.  Why would RNA stick around in the cell nucleus, instead of rushing out to make proteins? Dr. Shalev Itzkovitz and his group followed up on this question by asking further questions: How many cells keep RNA in their nuclei? How long does this RNA tend to stay? Which genes produce the homebody RNA?

Although they have not yet answered every one of their questions, they have uncovered a new level of regulation in the cell – one that is not immediately intuitive.

Nuclei of liver cells, mRNA of certain genes in white

Nuclei of liver cells, mRNA of certain genes in white

Revealing how some cells get rid of their contents or discovering that others hoard things deep within – neither finding will cure disease tomorrow. Both are changing our understanding of how the human cell functions, and both are going to contribute, in the future, to human health and welfare. We promise to keep bringing you these stories and more.



from ScienceBlogs http://ift.tt/1R8fY7Y

Comments of the Week #92: from the Universe’s birth to ten decades of science [Starts With A Bang]

“The big secret in life is that there is no big secret. Whatever your goal, you can get there if you’re willing to work.” -Oprah

And 2016 is here! So begins another great year for Starts With A Bang, and I’m so pleased you’re still here as well. Yes, I know there are some frustrations with Forbes’ ad policies, but at least they appear to have stopped the “Welcome to Forbes” interstitial, which is something! (And if you missed it, Medium now knows that I’m over there, too.) In any case, here’s what the last week has seen:

Plus, of course, our latest podcast: on baryogenesis!

We’re up to 128 donors in our Patreon campaign, my book is available on Amazon and downloadable on Kindle, and I leave for 227th AAS meeting tomorrow! If you want to know where to see me, plan on coming to MidSouthCon 34 in Memphis in March or Balticon 50 in Baltimore in May. And with all that behind us, let’s dive into your comments of the week!
Image credit: E. Siegel, of the size of the Universe (in light years) vs. the age of the Universe (in years).

Image credit: E. Siegel, of the size of the Universe (in light years) vs. the age of the Universe (in years).

From PJ on the size of the Universe: “Something else to think about; we are not necessarily at the centre of this expansion, so the extent of the universe is much greater than that which we can see for the moment. What we do not see is the changes having taken place up to the present moment.”

It’s pretty important to remember, when we talk about “the Universe,” that sometimes we mean the observable Universe, and sometimes we mean the whole, entire whatever-there-is, including whatever may be unobservable. So I feel that in this article, it’s pretty clear that we were talking about the observable Universe, rather than the whole whatever-there-is. But if we want to ask about that, there are a few important things we can say, mostly from our view of the CMB and from Baryon Acoustic Oscillations on the largest scales.

Image credit: Chris Blake and Sam Moorfield for the BOSS collaboration.

Image credit: Chris Blake and Sam Moorfield for the BOSS collaboration.

The fact that we see no recurring structures, or structures that appear at one location in the Universe and then again in a different location, we can infer that if the Universe is a topologically closed system, it’s greater in extent than the visible part of it. If we then assume that the spatial curvature we observe is representative of the curvature of the Universe, our best constraints tell us that if it is closed, then the entire Universe is at least a factor of 400 times larger in radius than what we observe, or 64,000,000 times (400^3) larger in volume. Inflation predicts, of course, that its likely many, many times larger than even that, but that’s the limit of what we can observe. (That limit, by the way, was announced at last year’s AAS by the SDSS-III/BOSS collaboration. Perhaps this year will reveal an even more stringent one!)

Image credit: ESA/Hubble & NASA and N. Gorin (STScI); Acknowledgement: Judy Schmidt.

Image credit: ESA/Hubble & NASA and N. Gorin (STScI); Acknowledgement: Judy Schmidt.

From Omega Centauri on the loneliest galaxy in the Universe: “I think if one could count the number of sunlike stars in void galaxies and the number of stars in/near clusters, the ratio would be very small, so the odds for any randomly selected civilization, is that they won’t have this problem.”

Well, that’s true for any randomly selected civilization, but what are the odds that a civilization around a star comes to be and reach the level where it can ask those such questions? It’s pretty low, for certain, but we know it happened at least once in our galaxy, and this one is many times larger. (At least five times as many stars, by most estimates.) So the issue isn’t whether a random civilization would have this problem, but whether there’s a civilization in this galaxy that has that problem. And the answer — as it is to all heretofore unknown questions — is maybe.

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Lunch, of a 2-D projection of a Calabi-Yau manifold, one popular method of compactifying the extra, unwanted dimensions of String Theory.

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Lunch, of a 2-D projection of a Calabi-Yau manifold, one popular method of compactifying the extra, unwanted dimensions of String Theory.

From Rafael Bernal on string theory and whether it’s a scientific theory: “One of the clearest articles I’ve seen explaining how a scientific theory is different from a mathematical one. I’ve always argued that the string theorists are mathematical mavericks, but all the math in the world makes no science!
We could ask, Where is the beef? (In this case the experimental / empirical proof?”

This is something that I stand behind that has clearly gotten a lot of people worked up. There’s not a problem with working on something that hasn’t yet given a concrete prediction that one could look to, either verifying or running counter to the theory’s expectations. But like many ideas, the connection to a physical observable is missing, and that’s a very tough sell to me as a scientific theory. Mathematical physicists work all the time on things which very clearly have no connection to reality: E(9) groups and above, extensions of the quaternions and octonions to higher superalgebras, even revived versions of the old Sakata model of hadrons. (To most of you, I recognize these words are meaningless; don’t worry about it.) That sort of thing isn’t interesting to me from a physics point-of-view, and when I’m feeling particularly snarky, I have a special word for it: mathsturbation.

Image credit: public domain work by Wikimedia Commons user Rogilbert.

Image credit: public domain work by Wikimedia Commons user Rogilbert.

The (non-snarky) point is, you need a connection to something you can measure! It can be measured in principle rather than (right now) in practice, but it needs to have a connection to an observable quantity. Otherwise, what you’re doing might be interesting and might someday lead to a scientific prediction, but it’s hard to justify calling something a scientific theory that can’t be tested. In any case, the distinction between a mathematical and a scientific theory was what I was going for, and I’m glad at least one person picked up on that.

Image credit: Cabrera B. (1982). First Results from a Superconductive Detector for Moving Magnetic Monopoles, Physical Review Letters, 48 (20) 1378–1381.

Image credit: Cabrera B. (1982). First Results from a Superconductive Detector for Moving Magnetic Monopoles, Physical Review Letters, 48 (20) 1378–1381.

From Alan L. on a possible monopole prank: “how could a prank of this kind be carried out so as to create the effect of having a charge of almost 8 magnetons be sent, presumably almost instantaneously, to the computer linked to the detector SQUID?”

Very, very easily: by sending a digital signal to the computer/detector. For it to be a random fluctuation is much, much harder; fluctuations typically return to baseline quickly, and were never more than 2 magnetons in magnitude otherwise. Yet there were exactly eight turns of wire, and a signal of 8 magnetons were observed. What was it? If it was the only magnetic monopole in our (observable!) Universe, the world may never know.

Image credit: Gemini South image of NGC 5426-27 (Arp 271) as imaged by the Gemini Multi-Object Spectrograph.

Image credit: Gemini South image of NGC 5426-27 (Arp 271) as imaged by the Gemini Multi-Object Spectrograph.

From See Noevo on antimatter beings: “Perhaps the first living things WERE made of antimatter, but eventually nature selected against them. But they left behind no fossils, or at least, none that we’re capable of seeing. You know, because of what they’re made of.”

This is maybe the easiest kind of idea to deal with: the demonstrably incorrect idea. The problem with antimatter is that it annihilates with any normal matter it comes into contact with. If any antimatter ever existed on Earth, it was destroyed during Earth’s formation in a matter of timescales much less than even one second. If any antimatter came to Earth since, it was destroyed in our atmosphere in short order. In order to have a living being come to Earth, it would have had to have come from beyond our own galaxy, in which case we would see an antimatter galaxy, which doesn’t exist in our observable Universe.

In other words, this is a fun idea to entertain, but it can swiftly be shown to not describe our Universe. Which is good: antimatter living creatures wouldn’t want to meet us any more than we’d want to meet them!

Image credit: New Scientist online.

Image credit: New Scientist online.

From Ella on urobilins (written back in 2009): “Wow! So much I didn’t know. It is sort of disgusting, I guess, but you have to learn! This is amazing!”

Seven years later, people still find this stuff, and find it amazing. That’s some advice for you: index your pages on Google, everyone with a blog!

Image credit: NASA / Apollo 14.

Image credit: NASA / Apollo 14.

Speaking of necromancing old threads, here’s one from Hugh Beaumont on Alan Shepard’s golf shot on the Moon: “If you are going to hit a ball upward at a 45 degree angle it has be on a tee. This ball was dropped in the dust. The only way to get elevation is to hit “down” on it to produce backspin – the dimples on the golf ball interact with the air and this makes the ball rise. No air – no backspin – no altitude – no “miles and miles”. Complete baloney.”

So… let’s dissect it, because there are two big misunderstandings here. One is that a golf ball needs to be on a tee to hit it upwards at 45 degrees. Actually, a club with a tilted head is going to impart a force on the golf ball with a tilt to it. All golf clubs have tilted heads, and while the mechanics of your swing or the lie of the ball can affect exactly what angle the ball comes off at, there’s no reason why it’s impossible to hit a ball upwards at a 45 degree angle unless you’re on a tee. The Moon might be akin to the ultimate sand trap, but Shepard made a drop rather than a “shot” and used a 6-iron, which seems fair.

Image credit: © 2016 Rocky River Golf Club, screenshot from FlightScope, via http://ift.tt/1IKkmHt.

Image credit: © 2016 Rocky River Golf Club, screenshot from FlightScope, via http://ift.tt/1IKkmHt.

The second point is how a ball interacts with the air, which the Moon quite obviously doesn’t have. Somehow, you (confusedly) think this is bad for the flight of the ball, rather than good, since the ball now doesn’t have to contend with any form of air resistance! Sure, a golf ball does better than a perfect sphere, but how does that compare to either shape (since shape doesn’t matter without air) on the Moon?

Thankfully, you don’t need me; this problem has been solved!

Image credit: The Atmospheric-Optics Laboratory, Dalhousie University, Halifax, Canada, via http://ift.tt/1NY0ZJI.

Image credit: The Atmospheric-Optics Laboratory, Dalhousie University, Halifax, Canada, via http://ift.tt/1NY0ZJI.

You’ll want to hit your golf shot at a 45 degree angle, optimally, without air resistance, and follow mission control’s advice to the best of your ability. On Apollo 14, Alan Shepard actually got some.

Mission control: You need to bend your knees a little more. Keep your head down.
Alan Shepard: I’m… wearing a space suit.
Mission control: Just trying to help.

It didn’t help.

Arp 148. Image credit: NASA, ESA, the Hubble Heritage (STScI/AURA)-ESA/Hubble Collaboration, and A. Evans (University of Virginia, Charlottesville/NRAO/Stony Brook University).

Arp 148. Image credit: NASA, ESA, the Hubble Heritage (STScI/AURA)-ESA/Hubble Collaboration, and A. Evans (University of Virginia, Charlottesville/NRAO/Stony Brook University).

And finally, from Gary S on the matter/antimatter controversy: “How do we know that there are NOT equal numbers of “normal” and anti-matter galaxies? Are there astronomical observations which could tell?”

Absolutely, Gary! You see, if there were antimatter galaxies out there, then there should be some interface between the matter and antimatter ones. Either there would be a discontinuity (like a domain wall) separating the two regions, there would be an interface where gamma rays of a specific frequency originated, or there would be a great 2D void where it’s all already annihilated away.

And our Universe contains none of these things. The absence of them in all directions and in all locations tells us that if there are antimatter galaxies out there, they’re far beyond the observable part of our Universe. Instead, every interacting pair we see shows evidence that they’re all made of matter. Beautiful, beautiful matter.

Arp 274, a trio of star-forming galaxies. Image credit: NASA, ESA, M. Livio and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA).

Arp 274, a trio of star-forming galaxies. Image credit: NASA, ESA, M. Livio and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA).

Thanks for joining me this week and for kicking off the year right. Can’t wait to see what the rest of 2016 has in store!



from ScienceBlogs http://ift.tt/1NY0Xl7

“The big secret in life is that there is no big secret. Whatever your goal, you can get there if you’re willing to work.” -Oprah

And 2016 is here! So begins another great year for Starts With A Bang, and I’m so pleased you’re still here as well. Yes, I know there are some frustrations with Forbes’ ad policies, but at least they appear to have stopped the “Welcome to Forbes” interstitial, which is something! (And if you missed it, Medium now knows that I’m over there, too.) In any case, here’s what the last week has seen:

Plus, of course, our latest podcast: on baryogenesis!

We’re up to 128 donors in our Patreon campaign, my book is available on Amazon and downloadable on Kindle, and I leave for 227th AAS meeting tomorrow! If you want to know where to see me, plan on coming to MidSouthCon 34 in Memphis in March or Balticon 50 in Baltimore in May. And with all that behind us, let’s dive into your comments of the week!
Image credit: E. Siegel, of the size of the Universe (in light years) vs. the age of the Universe (in years).

Image credit: E. Siegel, of the size of the Universe (in light years) vs. the age of the Universe (in years).

From PJ on the size of the Universe: “Something else to think about; we are not necessarily at the centre of this expansion, so the extent of the universe is much greater than that which we can see for the moment. What we do not see is the changes having taken place up to the present moment.”

It’s pretty important to remember, when we talk about “the Universe,” that sometimes we mean the observable Universe, and sometimes we mean the whole, entire whatever-there-is, including whatever may be unobservable. So I feel that in this article, it’s pretty clear that we were talking about the observable Universe, rather than the whole whatever-there-is. But if we want to ask about that, there are a few important things we can say, mostly from our view of the CMB and from Baryon Acoustic Oscillations on the largest scales.

Image credit: Chris Blake and Sam Moorfield for the BOSS collaboration.

Image credit: Chris Blake and Sam Moorfield for the BOSS collaboration.

The fact that we see no recurring structures, or structures that appear at one location in the Universe and then again in a different location, we can infer that if the Universe is a topologically closed system, it’s greater in extent than the visible part of it. If we then assume that the spatial curvature we observe is representative of the curvature of the Universe, our best constraints tell us that if it is closed, then the entire Universe is at least a factor of 400 times larger in radius than what we observe, or 64,000,000 times (400^3) larger in volume. Inflation predicts, of course, that its likely many, many times larger than even that, but that’s the limit of what we can observe. (That limit, by the way, was announced at last year’s AAS by the SDSS-III/BOSS collaboration. Perhaps this year will reveal an even more stringent one!)

Image credit: ESA/Hubble & NASA and N. Gorin (STScI); Acknowledgement: Judy Schmidt.

Image credit: ESA/Hubble & NASA and N. Gorin (STScI); Acknowledgement: Judy Schmidt.

From Omega Centauri on the loneliest galaxy in the Universe: “I think if one could count the number of sunlike stars in void galaxies and the number of stars in/near clusters, the ratio would be very small, so the odds for any randomly selected civilization, is that they won’t have this problem.”

Well, that’s true for any randomly selected civilization, but what are the odds that a civilization around a star comes to be and reach the level where it can ask those such questions? It’s pretty low, for certain, but we know it happened at least once in our galaxy, and this one is many times larger. (At least five times as many stars, by most estimates.) So the issue isn’t whether a random civilization would have this problem, but whether there’s a civilization in this galaxy that has that problem. And the answer — as it is to all heretofore unknown questions — is maybe.

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Lunch, of a 2-D projection of a Calabi-Yau manifold, one popular method of compactifying the extra, unwanted dimensions of String Theory.

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Lunch, of a 2-D projection of a Calabi-Yau manifold, one popular method of compactifying the extra, unwanted dimensions of String Theory.

From Rafael Bernal on string theory and whether it’s a scientific theory: “One of the clearest articles I’ve seen explaining how a scientific theory is different from a mathematical one. I’ve always argued that the string theorists are mathematical mavericks, but all the math in the world makes no science!
We could ask, Where is the beef? (In this case the experimental / empirical proof?”

This is something that I stand behind that has clearly gotten a lot of people worked up. There’s not a problem with working on something that hasn’t yet given a concrete prediction that one could look to, either verifying or running counter to the theory’s expectations. But like many ideas, the connection to a physical observable is missing, and that’s a very tough sell to me as a scientific theory. Mathematical physicists work all the time on things which very clearly have no connection to reality: E(9) groups and above, extensions of the quaternions and octonions to higher superalgebras, even revived versions of the old Sakata model of hadrons. (To most of you, I recognize these words are meaningless; don’t worry about it.) That sort of thing isn’t interesting to me from a physics point-of-view, and when I’m feeling particularly snarky, I have a special word for it: mathsturbation.

Image credit: public domain work by Wikimedia Commons user Rogilbert.

Image credit: public domain work by Wikimedia Commons user Rogilbert.

The (non-snarky) point is, you need a connection to something you can measure! It can be measured in principle rather than (right now) in practice, but it needs to have a connection to an observable quantity. Otherwise, what you’re doing might be interesting and might someday lead to a scientific prediction, but it’s hard to justify calling something a scientific theory that can’t be tested. In any case, the distinction between a mathematical and a scientific theory was what I was going for, and I’m glad at least one person picked up on that.

Image credit: Cabrera B. (1982). First Results from a Superconductive Detector for Moving Magnetic Monopoles, Physical Review Letters, 48 (20) 1378–1381.

Image credit: Cabrera B. (1982). First Results from a Superconductive Detector for Moving Magnetic Monopoles, Physical Review Letters, 48 (20) 1378–1381.

From Alan L. on a possible monopole prank: “how could a prank of this kind be carried out so as to create the effect of having a charge of almost 8 magnetons be sent, presumably almost instantaneously, to the computer linked to the detector SQUID?”

Very, very easily: by sending a digital signal to the computer/detector. For it to be a random fluctuation is much, much harder; fluctuations typically return to baseline quickly, and were never more than 2 magnetons in magnitude otherwise. Yet there were exactly eight turns of wire, and a signal of 8 magnetons were observed. What was it? If it was the only magnetic monopole in our (observable!) Universe, the world may never know.

Image credit: Gemini South image of NGC 5426-27 (Arp 271) as imaged by the Gemini Multi-Object Spectrograph.

Image credit: Gemini South image of NGC 5426-27 (Arp 271) as imaged by the Gemini Multi-Object Spectrograph.

From See Noevo on antimatter beings: “Perhaps the first living things WERE made of antimatter, but eventually nature selected against them. But they left behind no fossils, or at least, none that we’re capable of seeing. You know, because of what they’re made of.”

This is maybe the easiest kind of idea to deal with: the demonstrably incorrect idea. The problem with antimatter is that it annihilates with any normal matter it comes into contact with. If any antimatter ever existed on Earth, it was destroyed during Earth’s formation in a matter of timescales much less than even one second. If any antimatter came to Earth since, it was destroyed in our atmosphere in short order. In order to have a living being come to Earth, it would have had to have come from beyond our own galaxy, in which case we would see an antimatter galaxy, which doesn’t exist in our observable Universe.

In other words, this is a fun idea to entertain, but it can swiftly be shown to not describe our Universe. Which is good: antimatter living creatures wouldn’t want to meet us any more than we’d want to meet them!

Image credit: New Scientist online.

Image credit: New Scientist online.

From Ella on urobilins (written back in 2009): “Wow! So much I didn’t know. It is sort of disgusting, I guess, but you have to learn! This is amazing!”

Seven years later, people still find this stuff, and find it amazing. That’s some advice for you: index your pages on Google, everyone with a blog!

Image credit: NASA / Apollo 14.

Image credit: NASA / Apollo 14.

Speaking of necromancing old threads, here’s one from Hugh Beaumont on Alan Shepard’s golf shot on the Moon: “If you are going to hit a ball upward at a 45 degree angle it has be on a tee. This ball was dropped in the dust. The only way to get elevation is to hit “down” on it to produce backspin – the dimples on the golf ball interact with the air and this makes the ball rise. No air – no backspin – no altitude – no “miles and miles”. Complete baloney.”

So… let’s dissect it, because there are two big misunderstandings here. One is that a golf ball needs to be on a tee to hit it upwards at 45 degrees. Actually, a club with a tilted head is going to impart a force on the golf ball with a tilt to it. All golf clubs have tilted heads, and while the mechanics of your swing or the lie of the ball can affect exactly what angle the ball comes off at, there’s no reason why it’s impossible to hit a ball upwards at a 45 degree angle unless you’re on a tee. The Moon might be akin to the ultimate sand trap, but Shepard made a drop rather than a “shot” and used a 6-iron, which seems fair.

Image credit: © 2016 Rocky River Golf Club, screenshot from FlightScope, via http://ift.tt/1IKkmHt.

Image credit: © 2016 Rocky River Golf Club, screenshot from FlightScope, via http://ift.tt/1IKkmHt.

The second point is how a ball interacts with the air, which the Moon quite obviously doesn’t have. Somehow, you (confusedly) think this is bad for the flight of the ball, rather than good, since the ball now doesn’t have to contend with any form of air resistance! Sure, a golf ball does better than a perfect sphere, but how does that compare to either shape (since shape doesn’t matter without air) on the Moon?

Thankfully, you don’t need me; this problem has been solved!

Image credit: The Atmospheric-Optics Laboratory, Dalhousie University, Halifax, Canada, via http://ift.tt/1NY0ZJI.

Image credit: The Atmospheric-Optics Laboratory, Dalhousie University, Halifax, Canada, via http://ift.tt/1NY0ZJI.

You’ll want to hit your golf shot at a 45 degree angle, optimally, without air resistance, and follow mission control’s advice to the best of your ability. On Apollo 14, Alan Shepard actually got some.

Mission control: You need to bend your knees a little more. Keep your head down.
Alan Shepard: I’m… wearing a space suit.
Mission control: Just trying to help.

It didn’t help.

Arp 148. Image credit: NASA, ESA, the Hubble Heritage (STScI/AURA)-ESA/Hubble Collaboration, and A. Evans (University of Virginia, Charlottesville/NRAO/Stony Brook University).

Arp 148. Image credit: NASA, ESA, the Hubble Heritage (STScI/AURA)-ESA/Hubble Collaboration, and A. Evans (University of Virginia, Charlottesville/NRAO/Stony Brook University).

And finally, from Gary S on the matter/antimatter controversy: “How do we know that there are NOT equal numbers of “normal” and anti-matter galaxies? Are there astronomical observations which could tell?”

Absolutely, Gary! You see, if there were antimatter galaxies out there, then there should be some interface between the matter and antimatter ones. Either there would be a discontinuity (like a domain wall) separating the two regions, there would be an interface where gamma rays of a specific frequency originated, or there would be a great 2D void where it’s all already annihilated away.

And our Universe contains none of these things. The absence of them in all directions and in all locations tells us that if there are antimatter galaxies out there, they’re far beyond the observable part of our Universe. Instead, every interacting pair we see shows evidence that they’re all made of matter. Beautiful, beautiful matter.

Arp 274, a trio of star-forming galaxies. Image credit: NASA, ESA, M. Livio and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA).

Arp 274, a trio of star-forming galaxies. Image credit: NASA, ESA, M. Livio and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA).

Thanks for joining me this week and for kicking off the year right. Can’t wait to see what the rest of 2016 has in store!



from ScienceBlogs http://ift.tt/1NY0Xl7

Everything you need to know: Quadrantid meteor shower

The Quadrantid meteor shower is always the first meteor shower of every new year, and 2016 is no exception. The good news is that, in 2016, the waning crescent moon shouldn’t too greatly disrupt the shower. Now the not-so-good news. Although the Quadrantides put out 50 or more meteors in a dark sky, the Quadrantids’ peak is very narrow. The peaks of the Perseid shower or Geminid shower persist more or less for a day or more, allowing all time zones around the world to enjoy a good display of Perseids and Geminids. Meanwhile, the peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower lasts only a few hours. So you have to be on the right part of Earth, the part that’s in nighttime – preferably with the radiant high in your sky – during those few hours of the shower’s peak, in order to see the most Quadrantid meteors. Follow the links below to learn more about the Quadrantids in 2016.

What are the peak dates for the Quadrantid shower in 2016?

Who will see the Quadrantid meteor shower best in 2016?

What time should I watch the Quadrantid meteor shower in 2016?

Where is the radiant point for the Quadrantid shower?

The Quadrantids are named for a constellation that no longer exists.

Quadrantid meteors have a mysterious parent object.

View larger. | In 2014, as the Quadrantids were flying, those at far northern latitudes were seeing auroras. Tommy Eliassen Photography captured this photo on January 3, 2014. Thank you, Tommy!

View larger. | In 2014, as the Quadrantids were flying, those at far northern latitudes were seeing auroras. Tommy Eliassen Photography captured this photo on January 3, 2014. Thank you, Tommy! Visit Tommy Eliassen Photo

What is the peak date for the Quadrantid shower in 2016? Different sources might give different dates and precise times for meteor shower peaks. We are relying on the Observer’s Handbook 2016 and the International Meteor Organization (IMO) to help us out. Both of these sources give the date of peak on January 4, and the time at 8:00 Universal Time.

If that prediction holds true, the peak will be 2 a.m. for the central United States on January 4; in other words, the radiant point for this shower be above the horizon for us in the U.S. If the prediction holds, northeastern North America and Greenland may hold the advantage. But predictions aren’t always accurate, so from any northerly latitudes, try watching in the dark hours before dawn on January 4.

One note: The shower favors the Northern Hemisphere because its radiant point is so far north on the sky’s dome.

What time should I watch the Quadrantid meteor shower in 2016? All other things being equal, for any meteor showers, you are likely to see the most meteors when the radiant is high in the sky. In the case of the Quadrantid shower, the radiant point is seen highest in the sky in the dark hour before dawn.

Unlike most meteor showers, you have to hope that the narrow peak of Quadrantid shower happens at or near the same hour that the radiant point resides highest in your sky. Here’s that peak time again, according to the International Meteor Organization: January 4 at 8:00 Universal Time. Click here to translate Universal Time to your time zone.

Barry Simmons in Lake Martin, Alabama captured this Quadrantid meteor on the morning of January 3, 2014. Thank you, Barry.

Barry Simmons in Lake Martin, Alabama captured this Quadrantid meteor on the morning of January 3, 2014. Thank you, Barry.

Day and night sides of Earth at the predicted peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower (2016 January 4 at 8 Universal Time). If the prediction holds - which is a big IF - then northwestern Europe, northeastern North America and Greenland all have a shot at seeing the Quandrantid meteor shower at or near its peak in the dark hours before dawn January 4, 2016.

Day and night sides of Earth at the predicted peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower (2016 January 4 at 8 Universal Time). If the prediction holds – which is a big IF – then northwestern Europe, northeastern North America and Greenland all have a shot at seeing the Quandrantid meteor shower at or near its peak in the dark hours before dawn January 4, 2016.

Who will see the Quadrantid meteor shower best in 2016? The world map above shows the day and night sides of Earth at the instant of the predicted peak of the 2016 Quadrantids, before dawn on January 4. On the worldwide map above, the shadow line running to the west (left) of Europe and Africa represents sunrise.

Keep in mind that this forecast represents a best guess, not an ironclad guarantee as to when the peak will actually happen. If the peak of the shower comes as predicted – and that’s a big if – then northwestern Europe, northeastern North America and Greenland should be in a good place to watch this year’s Quadrantid meteor shower. If the peak comes a few hours later than predicted, the advantage would go to North America. If the peak comes earlier than expected, the advantage shifts over to Europe. Only time will tell.

The radiant point for the Quadrantid shower is highest up in the sky during the dark hour before dawn. So you are hoping the the shower will peak in the predawn hours. But die-hard meteor watchers outside the expected peak region in the Northern Hemisphere will brave the cold anyway, hoping to glimpse a meteor or two! Remember, the peak could come earlier or later than predicted.

From mid-northern latitudes, the radiant point for the Quadrantid shower doesn’t climb over the horizon until after midnight.

Where is the radiant point for the Quadrantid shower? The radiant point of the Quadrantid shower makes an approximate right angle with the Big Dipper and the bright star Arcturus. If you trace the paths of the Quadrantid meteors backward, they appear to radiate from this point on the starry sky.

But you don’t need to find the meteor shower radiant to see the Quadrantid meteors. You have to be at mid-northern or far-northern latitudes, up in the wee hours of the morning and hope the peak comes at just the right time to your part of the world.

The now-defunct constellation Quadrans Muralis, for which the Quadrantids are named. Image via Atlas Coelestis.

The Quadrantids are named for a constellation that no longer exists. Most meteor showers are named for the constellations from which they appear to radiate. So it is with the Quadrantids. But the Quadrantids’ constellation no longer exists. The name Quadrantids comes from the constellation Quadrans Muralis (Mural Quadrant), created by the French astronomer Jerome Lalande in 1795. This now-obsolete constellation was located between the constellations of Bootes the Herdsman and Draco the Dragon. Where did it go?

To understand the history of the Quadrantids’ name, we have to go back to the earliest observations of this shower. In early January 1825, Antonio Brucalassi in Italy reported that “the atmosphere was traversed by a multitude of the luminous bodies known by the name of falling stars.” They appeared to radiate from Quadrans Muralis. In 1839, Adolphe Quetelet of Brussels Observatory in Belgium and Edward C. Herrick in Connecticut independently made the suggestion that the Quadrantids are an annual shower.

But, in 1922, the International Astronomical Union devised a list 88 modern constellations. The list was agreed upon by the International Astronomical Union at its inaugural General Assembly held in Rome in May 1922. It did not include a constellation Quadrans Muralis. Today, this meteor shower retains the name Quadrantids, for the original and now obsolete constellation Quadrans Muralis.

The radiant point for the Quadrantids is now considered to be at the northern tip of Bootes, near the Big Dipper asterism in our sky, not far from Bootes’ brightest star Arcturus. It is very far north on the sky’s dome, which is why Southern Hemisphere observers probably won’t see many (if any) Quadrantid meteors. The meteors simply won’t make it above the horizon for Southern Hemisphere skywatchers.

In 2003, Peter Jenniskens proposed that this object, 2003 EH1, is the parent body of the Quadrantid meteor shower.

Quadrantid meteors have a mysterious parent object. In 2003, astronomer Peter Jenniskens tentatively identified the parent body of the Quadrantids as the asteroid 2003 EH1. If indeed this body is the Quadrantids parent, then the Quadrantids, like the Geminid meteors, come from a rocky body – not an icy comet. Strange.

In turn, though, 2003 EH1 might be the same object as the comet C/1490 Y1, which was observed by Chinese, Japanese and Korean astronomers 500 years ago.

So the exact story behind the Quadrantids’ parent object remains somewhat mysterious.

Bottom line: The first meteor shower of 2016, the Quadrantid meteor shower, will probably be at its best before dawn January 4. This shower is best for the Northern Hemisphere because its radiant point is far to the north on the sky’s dome. In 2016, this shower shouldn’t suffer too greatly from the light of the waning crescent moon.

How do I translate Universal Time to my time zone?



from EarthSky http://ift.tt/1lsGXYp

The Quadrantid meteor shower is always the first meteor shower of every new year, and 2016 is no exception. The good news is that, in 2016, the waning crescent moon shouldn’t too greatly disrupt the shower. Now the not-so-good news. Although the Quadrantides put out 50 or more meteors in a dark sky, the Quadrantids’ peak is very narrow. The peaks of the Perseid shower or Geminid shower persist more or less for a day or more, allowing all time zones around the world to enjoy a good display of Perseids and Geminids. Meanwhile, the peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower lasts only a few hours. So you have to be on the right part of Earth, the part that’s in nighttime – preferably with the radiant high in your sky – during those few hours of the shower’s peak, in order to see the most Quadrantid meteors. Follow the links below to learn more about the Quadrantids in 2016.

What are the peak dates for the Quadrantid shower in 2016?

Who will see the Quadrantid meteor shower best in 2016?

What time should I watch the Quadrantid meteor shower in 2016?

Where is the radiant point for the Quadrantid shower?

The Quadrantids are named for a constellation that no longer exists.

Quadrantid meteors have a mysterious parent object.

View larger. | In 2014, as the Quadrantids were flying, those at far northern latitudes were seeing auroras. Tommy Eliassen Photography captured this photo on January 3, 2014. Thank you, Tommy!

View larger. | In 2014, as the Quadrantids were flying, those at far northern latitudes were seeing auroras. Tommy Eliassen Photography captured this photo on January 3, 2014. Thank you, Tommy! Visit Tommy Eliassen Photo

What is the peak date for the Quadrantid shower in 2016? Different sources might give different dates and precise times for meteor shower peaks. We are relying on the Observer’s Handbook 2016 and the International Meteor Organization (IMO) to help us out. Both of these sources give the date of peak on January 4, and the time at 8:00 Universal Time.

If that prediction holds true, the peak will be 2 a.m. for the central United States on January 4; in other words, the radiant point for this shower be above the horizon for us in the U.S. If the prediction holds, northeastern North America and Greenland may hold the advantage. But predictions aren’t always accurate, so from any northerly latitudes, try watching in the dark hours before dawn on January 4.

One note: The shower favors the Northern Hemisphere because its radiant point is so far north on the sky’s dome.

What time should I watch the Quadrantid meteor shower in 2016? All other things being equal, for any meteor showers, you are likely to see the most meteors when the radiant is high in the sky. In the case of the Quadrantid shower, the radiant point is seen highest in the sky in the dark hour before dawn.

Unlike most meteor showers, you have to hope that the narrow peak of Quadrantid shower happens at or near the same hour that the radiant point resides highest in your sky. Here’s that peak time again, according to the International Meteor Organization: January 4 at 8:00 Universal Time. Click here to translate Universal Time to your time zone.

Barry Simmons in Lake Martin, Alabama captured this Quadrantid meteor on the morning of January 3, 2014. Thank you, Barry.

Barry Simmons in Lake Martin, Alabama captured this Quadrantid meteor on the morning of January 3, 2014. Thank you, Barry.

Day and night sides of Earth at the predicted peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower (2016 January 4 at 8 Universal Time). If the prediction holds - which is a big IF - then northwestern Europe, northeastern North America and Greenland all have a shot at seeing the Quandrantid meteor shower at or near its peak in the dark hours before dawn January 4, 2016.

Day and night sides of Earth at the predicted peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower (2016 January 4 at 8 Universal Time). If the prediction holds – which is a big IF – then northwestern Europe, northeastern North America and Greenland all have a shot at seeing the Quandrantid meteor shower at or near its peak in the dark hours before dawn January 4, 2016.

Who will see the Quadrantid meteor shower best in 2016? The world map above shows the day and night sides of Earth at the instant of the predicted peak of the 2016 Quadrantids, before dawn on January 4. On the worldwide map above, the shadow line running to the west (left) of Europe and Africa represents sunrise.

Keep in mind that this forecast represents a best guess, not an ironclad guarantee as to when the peak will actually happen. If the peak of the shower comes as predicted – and that’s a big if – then northwestern Europe, northeastern North America and Greenland should be in a good place to watch this year’s Quadrantid meteor shower. If the peak comes a few hours later than predicted, the advantage would go to North America. If the peak comes earlier than expected, the advantage shifts over to Europe. Only time will tell.

The radiant point for the Quadrantid shower is highest up in the sky during the dark hour before dawn. So you are hoping the the shower will peak in the predawn hours. But die-hard meteor watchers outside the expected peak region in the Northern Hemisphere will brave the cold anyway, hoping to glimpse a meteor or two! Remember, the peak could come earlier or later than predicted.

From mid-northern latitudes, the radiant point for the Quadrantid shower doesn’t climb over the horizon until after midnight.

Where is the radiant point for the Quadrantid shower? The radiant point of the Quadrantid shower makes an approximate right angle with the Big Dipper and the bright star Arcturus. If you trace the paths of the Quadrantid meteors backward, they appear to radiate from this point on the starry sky.

But you don’t need to find the meteor shower radiant to see the Quadrantid meteors. You have to be at mid-northern or far-northern latitudes, up in the wee hours of the morning and hope the peak comes at just the right time to your part of the world.

The now-defunct constellation Quadrans Muralis, for which the Quadrantids are named. Image via Atlas Coelestis.

The Quadrantids are named for a constellation that no longer exists. Most meteor showers are named for the constellations from which they appear to radiate. So it is with the Quadrantids. But the Quadrantids’ constellation no longer exists. The name Quadrantids comes from the constellation Quadrans Muralis (Mural Quadrant), created by the French astronomer Jerome Lalande in 1795. This now-obsolete constellation was located between the constellations of Bootes the Herdsman and Draco the Dragon. Where did it go?

To understand the history of the Quadrantids’ name, we have to go back to the earliest observations of this shower. In early January 1825, Antonio Brucalassi in Italy reported that “the atmosphere was traversed by a multitude of the luminous bodies known by the name of falling stars.” They appeared to radiate from Quadrans Muralis. In 1839, Adolphe Quetelet of Brussels Observatory in Belgium and Edward C. Herrick in Connecticut independently made the suggestion that the Quadrantids are an annual shower.

But, in 1922, the International Astronomical Union devised a list 88 modern constellations. The list was agreed upon by the International Astronomical Union at its inaugural General Assembly held in Rome in May 1922. It did not include a constellation Quadrans Muralis. Today, this meteor shower retains the name Quadrantids, for the original and now obsolete constellation Quadrans Muralis.

The radiant point for the Quadrantids is now considered to be at the northern tip of Bootes, near the Big Dipper asterism in our sky, not far from Bootes’ brightest star Arcturus. It is very far north on the sky’s dome, which is why Southern Hemisphere observers probably won’t see many (if any) Quadrantid meteors. The meteors simply won’t make it above the horizon for Southern Hemisphere skywatchers.

In 2003, Peter Jenniskens proposed that this object, 2003 EH1, is the parent body of the Quadrantid meteor shower.

Quadrantid meteors have a mysterious parent object. In 2003, astronomer Peter Jenniskens tentatively identified the parent body of the Quadrantids as the asteroid 2003 EH1. If indeed this body is the Quadrantids parent, then the Quadrantids, like the Geminid meteors, come from a rocky body – not an icy comet. Strange.

In turn, though, 2003 EH1 might be the same object as the comet C/1490 Y1, which was observed by Chinese, Japanese and Korean astronomers 500 years ago.

So the exact story behind the Quadrantids’ parent object remains somewhat mysterious.

Bottom line: The first meteor shower of 2016, the Quadrantid meteor shower, will probably be at its best before dawn January 4. This shower is best for the Northern Hemisphere because its radiant point is far to the north on the sky’s dome. In 2016, this shower shouldn’t suffer too greatly from the light of the waning crescent moon.

How do I translate Universal Time to my time zone?



from EarthSky http://ift.tt/1lsGXYp

2016 SkS Weekly News Roundup #1

A chronological listing of the news articles posted on the Skeptical Science Facebook page during the past week.

Sun, Dec 27

Mon, Dec 28

Tue, Dec 29

Wed, Dec 30

Thu, Dec 31

Fri, Jan 1 

Sat, Jan 2 



from Skeptical Science http://ift.tt/1mWzAix

A chronological listing of the news articles posted on the Skeptical Science Facebook page during the past week.

Sun, Dec 27

Mon, Dec 28

Tue, Dec 29

Wed, Dec 30

Thu, Dec 31

Fri, Jan 1 

Sat, Jan 2 



from Skeptical Science http://ift.tt/1mWzAix

adds 2