She's My Girl

And I love her:

(Click for clearer image.  Don't ask me why Blogger's suddenly decided to display sub-par crap in the post proper.)

Credits:

Toyota of Kirkland ensured I got the car I wanted at the price I wanted.  Barry Glenn, my outstanding State Farm agent, made sure financing was available and, as always, did a brilliant job setting me up with the right policy.  Chris saw to it that I had the right info.  And, vitally, my intrepid companion chauffeured me around and waited in dealerships without complaint. Thanks, guys!

Apologies to my favorite dealer.  I wanted to buy a car from him.  He didn't have this car.  But if any of you are in the market for an extremely sweet Nissan Sentra SE-R Spec V, or indeed a Hyundai of any description, call Hyundai of Seattle and ask for Peter.  You'll not only get an excellent car, you'll get some of the best customer service in the industry at a price that will leave you very pleased indeed.

Regular blogging will resume tomorrow night.  But don't be surprised if there's the occasional gush over how amazed I am that I own a car this sweet.  ;-)

Car Shopping Day is a Very Dangerous Day II

Always take your test drive on a long and winding road, preferably with hills, so you can truly get a feel for the car.  This is something I learned today, and it has led to the new car being knocked from the short list.  Its performance was okay, but failed to knock my socks off.  Besides, it didn't have any air conditioning.  When a car's going to end up traveling to Arizona, this is a serious drawback.

If I'd had the money for a higher-end model, circumstances would probably be otherwise.  That manufacturer is making some sweet machines.


I shan't be getting a brand new Nissan, as the dealership is asking prices that made me laugh.  They also played the "let me talk to the sales manager" gambit, which doesn't go over well with me.

So it's down to a celebrity death match between the Nissan Sentra SE-R Spec V being sold by my favorite dealer, and the Honda Civic LX-S being sold by the other guys.  I wish the Civic was at my favorite dealer's lot.  Sigh.  But I suppose my choice will depend on how I feel in the morning.  My intrepid companion came along for the day's car shopping adventures, and likes the Sentra quite a lot.  Lumbar support, you see.

Yes, in a Sentra.  This is one that had upgrades.  Many.  Upgrades.  One of which would be getting torn out of the trunk at my earliest convenience if I buy that car - what the fuck do I need a subwoofer for?  We'd be keeping the moon roof and the superb

Either way, my decision shall be made tomorrow.  And you lot won't have to suffer me babbling about this experience any longer.

Chris shall probably groan when he learns I'm buying one of the used cars on his "don't buy used if you can help it" list, but financial circumstances mean I either go used, go without, or go with a car I'm not thrilled by.  Considering how long I intend to keep this vehicle, I need to be thrilled.  Possibly even ecstatic.

We'll just see how thrilled the guys with the Civic are when I tell them how much I want to pay for it.  Hee.

Test Driving with Geology

I once again hauled myself out of bed at the buttcrack o' dawn and headed down to a dealership for some desultory tire-kicking.  I shall not yet be naming names, but let's just say that prior to this there was a spirited exchange between me and the salesman, in which I discovered he'd started reading ye olde blog.  I've never yet test-driven a car with a reader.

I'll be utterly honest: I liked him, and not just because he said flattering things about this humble cyber-cantina.  He spent time getting a good feel for what I wanted, and aimed me in appropriate directions. This is precisely what dealers should do, and it's appreciated.  Either Seattle's different or things have changed since I last trailed my father around to different dealerships, doing awful things like test-driving cars in snowstorms because my dad knew he'd get a better bargain on yucky days, because I haven't yet run into dealers oozing oil.  My dear dealer-reader stands out even among the comfortable salesmen I've spent the last few days with.  Even if I don't end up buying a car from him, I'll have no problem steering business his way.


His identity shall be revealed at the end of my searches, as long as he consents.  Otherwise, you can contact me for the info, should you be in the Seattle area and wanting to see a man about a car.

Tomorrow, it's off to my stalkers at Nissan for a discussion about the price of new cars and how my bank account can't deal with same.  Look, I have books to buy and field trips to finance - not going to spend all of my monthly cash on a car, m'kay?  Today's dealer seems to understand that.  Will they?

So yes, car shopping continues fine, and I'm now spoiled for choice.  My intrepid companion's agreed to allow me to drag him along tomorrow to help me narrow down the final contenders - since he's always with me on these trips, he should have some input regarding the car I stuff him in to.

I see you squirming.  You're tired of this car-shopping talk and want your geology, don't you?  Well, you shall have it.

You see, my dealer has been perusing some posts here, and we discussed a bit o' this and that whilst tooling around in various autos.  At one point, he asked me if there were volcanoes near Seattle.  Meaning, other than Mounts Rainier and Baker (if you ever get to meet him in person, ask about Baker - you'll marvel).

That would be a huge yes.  There's Glacier Peak, in fact, which was recently highlighted by my favorite Northwest geoblogger, Dan McShane.  Mount Rainier's closer, but not by much, and if you're living in the North Sound sneering at all those idiots in the South Sound who might get buried in the next big eruption, well, between Baker and Glacier Peak, you're probably covered.  In lahars, that is.

Courtesy of USGS

Courtesy of USGS

The biggest danger from Mount Rainier is to the South Sound area, and we're not so much worried about it going boom as going splat:

Courtesy of USGS

Rainier's not very noisy as far as stratovolcanoes go, not likely to put on a big pyrotechnic show, but it's rotting from the inside.  It's one tiny eruption, one heavy warm rainfall, or one earthquake away from releasing a mudflow that will seriously inconvenience a good number of Puget Lowland residents.  It's not considered the most dangerous volcano in America for nothing.


So, neither of the easily-visible volcanoes are likely to present Seattle with an impressive show (unless you count being buried under volcanic mudflows as a great afternoon's entertainment).  But Glacier Peak's been known to go boom in a big way (pdf).

Courtesy of USGS

It's not the most active of our area's volcanoes, but if it wakes up, it could very well get our attention.  And while the winds usually blow east, they don't always.  Seattle could end up buried under ash, and from a mountain people don't always realize is there, or recognize as a volcano.  Glacier Peak hides among the peaks of the Cascades rather than dominating the skyline on its own.  It's easy to overlook, but it sure won't be when it blows.

So, why do we have mountains created by uplift and folding, and mountains created by booms big and small, all looming on Seattle's skyline?  Let's have a look at a couple of illustrations.

First, the Cascade volcanoes:

Courtesy of USGS

Now the Cascade Range as a whole:

Courtesy of Wikipedia

You may notice a distinct linear motif.  There are many hefty geologic tomes, research papers, and seminars that explain just why this is, but we can sum up thusly:

Courtesy of PNSN

Classic subduction zone, my darlings.  As the North American plate heads west, the Juan de Fuca plate goes down under.  So you get mountain-building because things get smooshed- just run a couple of throw rugs in to each other, and you'll see the wrinkles develop.  Now imagine you had a heat source under the floor, and one rug dipping into it as it slides beneath the top rug.  Bits melt.  Warm things being warm, the melty bits rise, and find weak spots to escape from, and you have volcanoes amidst your wrinkly bits.  Crash!  Bang!  Ba-boom!

That's the quick-and-dirty explanation of what's going on round the Seattle area.  It's what gives us spectacular scenery that could very well kill us one day.  And to think I haven't even mentioned the faults, the subduction zone quakes, and the tsunamis!  Or the three thousand feet of ice we'll be enjoying if the Ice Age decides to mount a comeback.

Just look at it this way: we've got a front-row seat to some of the most spectacular shows geology can put on.  As I told my dear dealer, our geology's young, but it's had a busy youth.  And it ain't half done yet.

Car Shopping Day is a Very Dangerous Day

How I love Rocko's Modern Life.  If you don't get the title of this blog, set your DVR to record some Rocko, and you'll soon see what inspired that title.

So, after a horrible night's sleep (don't ask), I went out and made friends with a 2009 Honda Civic.  I'm not a Honda woman, but for the right price, I could become one.  It's only just not the right price.  And possesses a bizarre accelerator pedal.  Outside of that, though, she's well-behaved on the freeway, easy to get to know, and reasonably roomy.  Immaculate inside and out.  Definitely worth considering.

Then, just for the hell of it, I drove a Toyota Corolla with a manual transmission.  We did not become friends.  It was better than the Bronco I once drove, the one whose clutch defeated my uncle, but it was a close-run thing.  Both the dealer and I knew we were just out in it for the sake of having something else to look at, and that was it.  All they had.  The manual transmission is fast going the way of the dodo, which is really too bad.

Not enough time to nose about elsewhere before work, so those were all I saw.  Tomorrow, it's on to a Sentra and possibly some other things, and Sunday I have an appointment with my stalkers.  Yes, the dealership I took my Nissan to for its 60,000 mile maintenance called, said they wanted to offer me my choice of 2010 Sentras for under invoice.  They'd discovered from some web form I'd filled out that I was shopping.  Well, why the hell not?  A brand-new car is out of my price range, alas, but they're nosing about to see what they can dig up. 

I appear to be spoiled for choice.

Tomorrow, I have to see my agent about an auto loan.  He's been begging me to apply for one since I started with him, so can do.  Within a few days, we should be set.

Chris has a comment up on a previous post that anyone in the market for a car should read.  Bookmark it for future reference.  You will thank him someday.  I shall thank him today.  Thank you, Chris!

And, finally, if any dealers are reading this (I know at least one dropped by earlier): if you want to be the lucky recipient of my money, make me an offer I can't refuse.  Just remember that my bragging right for my previous baby was that I'd gotten her practically brand-new for $2,000 under wholesale invoice.  That's right.  Wholesale.  And yes, I live within walking distance of work, so I can walk away from quite a few things. 

With that in mind, it shall be a pleasure doing business with you!

Geology in Bed, at Work, and at a Friend's Place

Ye gods, what a day.  It began at around 3:30am, when Aunty Flow kicked me out of bed for a discussion on pain tolerance.  My side of the discussion is unprintable, even on this potty-mouthed blog.  I spoke to my old friend Ibuprofen, who then negotiated with my darling aunt, and a few hours later we headed back to bed, still achy but no longer turning the air blue, and attempted a bit more sleep.

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're certain you're awake until you realize this whacked-out shit doesn't happen IRL?  Well, I did.  I had some test drives planned, and since I no longer had the rental, the dealership brought the cars to me.  First clue this wasn't the Really Real World.  But whilst my rational brain shouted, "Hey, waidaminnit!" and tried to kick me out of bed, my dreaming brain adventured merrily on.  How we ended up scrambling up and over some very rocky cliffs when seconds before we'd been test driving, I don't know.  But no shit, there I was, jamming my poor abused sneakers into handy cracks and crevices on a very rough service (vesticular basalt, I believe, possibly some aa,) and watching the holes wear through.  "It's a small price to pay for science," I told myself as the destruction mounted toward catastrophic.  "But I hate shoe shopping."

Needless to say, I woke up exhausted from all the virtual field work.

This evening, I awed my friend Sean by sending him a link to this post at Magma Cum Laude.  It's a pretty stark example of how much destruction pyroclastic flows cause.  Or is that construction?  Lots o' new land, there, which will be prime real estate some fine day.  Right now, it's just a fine demonstration of how harsh Mother Earth can be (damn, I wish I could remember Sean's remark about that.  It was classic).

My pseudonymous friend Rachel dropped by my desk just after I'd run across this bit of yum:

Geologists in the audience will know just what's going on.  For those not versed, go to the link for the answer. 

In the meantime, the rest of us should head over to my intrepid companion's place, where he has delicious photos up of basalt dikes near Devil's Churn, and Devil's Churn itself.  It appears I've now dragged him along on enough geological escapades that he's starting to develop an interest.  Huzzah!

Right, then, are my geo-curious folks back from The Panda's Thumb?  Little shocked that you're not looking at a tree growing through stacks of boards, or a stone wall, aren't ye?  So was Rachel.  So was I, for that matter, because at a casual glance, that's precisely what it looked like.  I'd need to get my hands (and possibly my tongue and perhaps a little vinegar) on those rocks to know for sure what they are, but they're very likely sedimentary, possibly metamorphosed, and were a lot less chaotic before that tree had its way with them.  I found myself explaining to her in very general terms how some rocks can fracture in such an even manner, comparing them to the Moenkopi Formation at home, which had a habit of breaking off in nice, handy bits just perfect for a little pueblo-building.  My hands did the demo, showing how rocks minding their own business could be severely disturbed by rude roots. I pointed out the rough bits that look like a contact with a different rock layer, which tells us even if we didn't already know that this isn't an archaeological treasure, but built by nature.  And she listened, and made the awed noises, and looked at that photo with new eyes.

This, my darlings, is why I want to learn geology.  I like making magic.  And revealing what the rocks say is magical.

AW #27 Now Available!

For the three or four of you who haven't yet discovered this, the latest Accretionary Wedge is up at Lockwood's, and it is brilliant.

This ends weeks of torture, as I'd see tweets of various geology posts with some note like, "This is my AW submission!" and, sweating and nearly sobbing, I would therefore refrain from reading since I wanted to enjoy them as officially part of the Wedge.  Argh.  Well, I read each and every one tonight, and they were all wonderful, my darlings, simply wonderful.

Thank you, dearest Lockwood, for putting this together, and thank you, dear AW contributors, for your incredible submissions!  I fell in love with geology all over again almost two dozen times.

You rock.

Commending These to Your Attention

I have to go to bed early so that I'm nice and fresh for fending off used car salesmen in the morning.  I haven't yet decided how I'm going to approach this situation.  I got my hand in by test-driving a car I'm lukewarm about, and managed to escape without being invited back to the office to discuss a deal.  But we're in the big leagues, now, going to two different large dealerships and seeing two cars I adore already.  One is the snappiest Nissan Sentra I've ever seen in my life, complete with spoiler (and black!), the other a nearly-new Honda Civic that looks utterly delish.  Both are manual transmission.  Both are low mileage.  Both have clean Carfax reports.  And both seem like they would make me a happy woman indeed.  So I have two issues, here: 1) must talk salesman into lowering prices and 2) must choose between them.  What if the price is right for both?  What if I fall head-over-heels for both? 

Sean and I pondered this during the slow bits of work, and decided the only mechanism for choice would be to throw the used car salesmen in a mud wrestling pit.  Victor gets the sale.

(Gentlemen, if you're reading this, I just want to assure you it very probably won't come to that.  But you might want to have swim trunks to hand just in case.)

Anyway, whist I'm off on those adventures, here are a few links to keep you occupied.

Bing at Happy Jihad's has treated an Answers In Genesis "research paper" with due respect, i.e., none.  I plucked two quotes from it, one because it's beautiful, the other because I couldn't resist going there.

Quote #1:

The overwhelming consensus of the astronomical community is that you are not a part of it, Jason. 

Brilliant.  Simply brilliant.

Quote #2:

The Bing Bang sits on your head and farts, feeb.

So, ah, I guess that would be Bing Bang Boom, then.  Ah ha ha.

Right. 

Our own John Pieret (may he get well soon!) points out that John Wilkins has an important project going.  Scientists!  Here's your chance to shape a book explaining the basics of scientific method(s) to laypeople such as myself:

So scientists should follow the series and assist in formulating the manual and nonscientists can help in making it intelligible to people like them. Everyone can, I'm sure, learn something along the way and have fun in the effort.

Set to!

Finally, a pair o' quotes and a post from Steve Benen.

Quote #1:

Republicans will keep asking, "Where are the jobs?" and no one seems inclined to answer, "Your party got rid of them."

Quote #2:

And maybe it's just me, but when I hear about a "Goldilocks" planet that appears capable of supporting life, I don't think, "Cool, maybe there are aliens there." I think "Cool, maybe we can move there after we've finished screwing up here."

And the post:  "Lying About Lying is Never a Good Idea."  Just remember, kiddos, the woman who lied and lied and lied and then lied about lying repeatedly is the same one who said that a person hiding Jews should always tell the truth when Nazis come looking for said Jews, because lying is never ever justified.

How's that again, Christine?

Dumbfuckery du Jour

I wish Cons would settle on a century.  Some of them seem to want to return us to the glory days of the Middle Ages.  Some yearn for the days of the robber barons and child labor.  Some seem to be pining for the halcyon days of the Puritans, or burning for Revolutionary War times.  This is a new one on me, though:

Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-Texas), he of "terror baby" fame, is fond of wandering onto the House floor at odd times and sharing odd thoughts that pop into his head. Last night, Gohmert offered this gem:

"We have people on welfare and I know there's some that just don't wanna work, but there's some that do. How 'bout if instead of the welfare, we give 'em an alternative. We'll give you so many acres that can provide land where you can live off of it, make a living and we'll give you seed money to start, but you have to sign an agreement that you'll never accept welfare again. How 'bout that? We got plenty of land."

He really said that. It's on video.

Ye gods.  This fucktard thinks we can return to the good ol' days of the Homestead Act.  He really thinks city dwellers can eke a living out of subprime farmland (because let's face it, all the good shit's in the hands of agribusinesses).  I suppose it's better than the dumbshit who advocates a return to the days of debtor's prison, but not by much.

Louis.  Louis.  Louis.  I have to explain something to you.  This



is a fantasy.  It's not reality.  It's nostalgia for an era that never really was.

This

is reality (.pdf).  Notice that 60% of all farms make less than $10,000 per year.  And a fair number of those that make more do so with government subsidies.  Go have a look, Louis.  I know these numbers may be hard for a brain dead fucktard like you to understand, but get someone on your staff to write it up as a Dick and Jane book for you.

Either that, or go try to make your own living on a few miserable acres of substandard farmland, and let's see how long it is before you start screaming for help.  I'm a generous person, and I understand you have your pride, so I'll give you a week.

What a dumbass.  And to think we'll have a whole new crop of little Louies running around Congress come next January.  Fanfuckingtastic.

Hey, Hoosiers!

There's actually interesting natural history in Indiana.  No, really!  And David Orr's out to prove it.  His new blog, Under Indiana, has an ambitious mission:

After I'd grown up a bit, I learned to appreciate my home state on its own terms. I think it's a common experience for lovers of natural history: a deepening appreciation of the world that goes beyond the biggest, the splashiest, the most touristy. From the fossiliferous limestone of the south to the glaciated landscapes of the north, from the humblest crinoid fragment to Arcdotus simus, Hoosiers have plenty of natural history to be proud of, to share with the rest of the world, and to inspire new generations. [emphasis added to denote my emphatic agreement with this statement.]

I have to admit, it's exciting to see my birth state getting some respect.  It certainly never got any from me.  Every time I go back there, I end up suicidally depressed.  It takes about 20-30 minutes before I'm willing to do something, anything, to get the fuck out of there and get back home to me mountains.   But my own dear mother lives there, and I'm fated to visit her, so it's good to know I'll have interesting things to look forward to.  Between Lyle and David's new blog, I do believe I'm set!

Go over and give David some love.  Don't forget to drop by his other home, Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs, too.

Dumbfuckey du Jour

It proved difficult to choose a bit of dumbfuckery today.  There's just so damned much of it.  Sen. Jim "Witless" DeMint takes top prize for shitting all over the Senate:

Stan Collender speculated over the weekend that Senate Republicans may very well try to shut down the pre-adjournment legislative schedule, and possibly even try to shut down the government, this week. As it turns out, Collender was onto something. Roll Call reports on a new GOP scheme that the newspaper accurately describes as "remarkable."

Sen. Jim DeMint warned his colleagues Monday night that he would place a hold on all legislation that has not been "hot-lined" by the chamber or has not been cleared by his office before the close of business Tuesday. [...]

Traditionally, the Senate passes noncontroversial measures by unanimous consent at the end of most workdays, a process known as hot-lining. DeMint, Sen. Tom Coburn (R-Okla.) and others have fought against the practice for years and have dedicated staff members to reviewing bills that are to be hot-lined.

As a result, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) and Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) have generally given DeMint, Coburn and others time to review legislation before proceeding with unanimous consent agreements.

But in a terse e-mail sent to all 100 Senate chiefs of staff Monday evening, Steering Committee Chief of Staff Bret Bernhardt warned that DeMint would place a hold on any legislation that had not been hot-lined or been cleared by his office before the close of business Tuesday.

Roll Call added that aides from both parties were "stunned" by DeMint's stunt, which effectively amounts to "a unilateral decision to end legislative activity in the Senate." If he doesn't personally approve of a measure, DeMint will kill it.

If this doesn't force a reconsideration of Senate rules and procedure, nothing will.  When one squalling infant can stamp his little feet and bring the entire body to a howling halt, it's time to ensure that there are methods in place to paddle said squalling infants right on their bottoms.

And speaking of Senate dumbfuckery, it appears that the entire Con contingent, plus Baucus, Nelson, Tester, Warner, and Lieberman, have all decided that shipping jobs to foreign countries is a fine old American tradition that must not be interfered with. Remember them, especially if your job ends up in India next week.

But according to Senate candidate Ron Johnson, those jobs that do stay in the United States should come with the optional extra of corporate immunity if the kiddies get hurt.  That's right.  He's totally against holding businesses accountable if they coulda woulda shoulda prevented their employees from abusing children.  Can't let a little thing like liability (or common human decency) stand in the way of commerce!

Anyone get the sense that if these folks emigrated, America's collective morality would suddenly rocket up by about 100%?  Maybe we should offshore Senators....

The Columns Became

Inspired by an incipient meme.

Columns were things that happened to other people.

That was the impression I got growing up in Arizona, anyway.  I thought they were rare and exquisite creatures, too exotic for my lowly home state.  I'd see images of things like Devils Tower and Giant's Causeway in textbooks, and figure that was about it for volcanic columns in the world.  I could see things like block-and-ash flows, aa, pahoehoe, and cinder fields, but as far as crisp columns marching through a lava flow, I had no luck at all.  To this day, I'm not even sure if there's anywhere in Arizona where you can see such a thing.  They certainly weren't in evidence in the areas I tromped as a child.

So you can imagine my surprise when I moved up here to the Northwest and discovered columns are pretty much a dime a dozen.  Throw a rockhammer at a lava flow, and it probably won't land too far away from a nice group of columns.  I'm still excited when I see them, though.

Ye olde introduction to columns has been a process of gradual revelation.  First came basalt.  Basalt was another revelation.  I'd known in a vague sort of way about things like the Deccan and Siberian Traps and our very own Columbia River Basalts, but for some reason, I hadn't thought much about the appearance of flood basalts.  We had trickle basalts if we had anything, so I was used to basalt flows being small, thin creatures (though, believe me, they don't seem small and thin when you're scrambling around the aa at Sunset Crater.  My granddad lost his leg to that lava - true story.  It can be serious stuff indeed).  So early this summer, I stuffed ye olde intrepid companion in the car and went to have a look.

One's first impression of Washington's basalt provinces is massive.  Followed closely by, "I didn't know there were so many columns in the entire world!"

Columns in the Columbia River Basalts, Columbia River, Vantage, WA

And what I saw at Vantage didn't even begin to prepare me for the overwhelming columnness of the coulees.

Dumbfuckery du Jour

What rocks do the Cons turn over to find these idiots?

Millionaire businessman John Raese, running as the GOP Senate nominee to fill Robert Byrd’s West Virginia seat, wants to take the state back to the 19th century. Not only does he want to return capitalism to the era before child labor laws, Social Security, and civil rights laws, he also promotes a pre-industrial vision of science. In an interview with Real Clear Politics, Raese said he has “zero” trust that “human activity is contributing to climate change”:

The oceans that surround the world produce 185 billion tons of CO2 per annum. Man per annum only produces six billion tons, so what could possibly be the concern? One volcano puts out more toxic gases-one volcano-than man makes in a whole year. And when you look at this “climate change,” and when you look at the regular climate change that we all have in the world, we have warm and we have cooling spells.

Although Raese is well-versed in conspiracy-theory talking points, they’re as nonsensical as his desire to abolish the Departments of Energy and Education. Human activity puts about 29 billion tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere each year, well over 100 times as much as all the volcanoes in the world. The oceans actually vent about 332 billion tons of CO2 per year, but also absorb that much. 

There seems to be an exam you have to pass in order to become a Con candidate.  Questions include:

• Are you terminally insane?
• Are you a frothing fundie fucktard?
• Are you completely ignorant of science?

If you answer yes to all three, you are qualified to win the hearts and ostensible minds of the Teabagging masses.  Our government is poised to be filled with people who make my dear maternal uncle, who once went off his meds and decided to hold up a bank in order to obtain the funds for a boat so that he could become a pirate, look completely rational and scholarly.

I think I should begin stocking up on alcohol.  I'll need bathtubs full come November.

Captain's Log Supplemental: Mary's Peak I

Boy, I've got a lot to learn.  This is the takeaway lesson from going into the field with Lockwood.  I know a fair amount more about geology than the average layperson, but what I know is a thimble of whiskey compared to a distillery when you set me alongside someone who's actually done this shit for a living. 

I wish now I'd recorded audio while we were out there, because I didn't retain much of what he said - I'm one of those people who needs to read and write as well as do before I've really grasped something.  Good thing, then, that he's writing up our adventures.  I shall be stepping into the role of faithful assistant, letting him do the talking whilst handing up useful supplemental photos.

He's begun with one of the most fascinating bits of big black rock I've ever seen: hyaloclastite.  Look, I'm from Arizona, people.  There haven't been oceans there in nearly a hundred million years.  A good number of our rivers haven't even got water in them.  As far as basalts erupted on the sea floor, you won't get a good many exposures, if there even are any.  Hawaiian-style volcanic island complexes accreted to the continent?  Don't make me laugh.  We get the occasional pillows, and that's about it as far as basalt meets water goes.  Suffice it to say, my knowledge of what basalt does when confronted with large bodies of water is a bit lacking.

I'd never even heard of hyaloclastite before Lockwood took us to touch some:

Is that or is that not lovely?

Dumbfuckery du Jour

Oh, yes.  At last.  The Smack-o-Matic's coming off the wall, baby, yeah.

And what better way to begin than with a classic bit of dumbfuckery, proving the Senate has always contained politicians who have some difficulty confronting Really Serious Issues and are terrified of change:

June 25, 1930
Senate Considers Banning Dial Phones

Senator Carter Glass of Virginia
Carter Glass (D-VA)

In the spring of 1930, the Senate considered the following resolution:

Whereas dial telephones are more difficult to operate than are manual telephones; and Whereas Senators are required, since the installation of dial phones in the Capitol, to perform the duties of telephone operators in order to enjoy the benefits of telephone service; and Whereas dial telephones have failed to expedite telephone service; Therefore be it resolved that the Sergeant at Arms of the Senate is authorized and directed to order the Chesapeake and Potomac Telephone Co. to replace with manual phones within 30 days after the adoption of this resolution, all dial telephones in the Senate wing of the United States Capitol and in the Senate office building.

Magpiemom posted this as a comment on the DFDJ deriding Senate Cons for valiantly defending the incandescent bulb, and she's right - I thoroughly enjoyed it.  Be sure to read on, my darlings.  Stupidity never goes out of fashion.  It just finds different issues to be stupid about.

(Note to new readers: the comment system doesn't hate you, it's just set to moderate comments after X days to stymie spammers.  Sorry 'bout that!)

On to modern dumbfuckery, then, and nothing's entertained me more this week than watching Cons unveil their Pledge to America to near-universal derision.  How desperate are they for some sign, any sign, that somebody somewhere doesn't think their Pledge is a ridiculous fucking waste of time?  So desperate they're pretending Stephen Colbert is who he pretends to be:

House Republicans have had a tough time getting anyone — even fellow conservatives and Republicans — to endorse their new gimmicky “Pledge to America” they rolled out yesterday. Newt Gingrich, David Frum, Erick Erickson, the Club for Growth, conservative radio hosts, and even some GOP House candidates aren’t too thrilled with the recycled Republican pledges.

It seems Republicans are so desperate for someone to endorse the Pledge that they are now touting the fake support from a fictional character. Today, Comedy Central host Stephen Colbert testified — in character — before Congress on migrant labor issues. During the hearing, Rep. Lamar Smith (R-TX) noted that Colbert supports giving lawmakers 72 hours to read bills before they’re voted on and extrapolated that Colbert must support the entire Pledge because that “idea” is within it. Later, Colbert reassured Smith with this satirical response:

COLBERT: By the way I do endorse your policies. I do endorse your policies. You asked me if I endorse Republican policies. I endorse all Republican policies without question.

[snip]

Rep. Darrell Issa (R-CA) was so happy someone announced support of the GOP’s “Pledge” that he promoted Colbert’s (fake) endorsement on twitter:

That's just too pathetic for words.  If they truly don't understand that Stephen Colbert's schtick is just a schtick, then we're in uber-pathetic territory and accelerating as near-light speeds towards epic stupidity.  Put it like this: I probably won't die of shock if that proves to be the case.

We cannot end today's delving back into the realms of dumbfuckery without highlighting this extraordinary bit of Con hypocrisy:

The Washington Post ran an item the other day that, at first blush, doesn't seem especially political, but is worth considering in a larger context.

The issue is the spread of the brown marmorated stink bug through the mid-Atlantic states. They're harmless to people -- the don't bite, sting, or carry diseases -- but for the first time on the continent, they're doing significant damage to crops, ornamental shrubs, and trees. And as homeowners are discovering, as the bugs begin moving inside as temperatures drop, "when squashed or irritated, the bugs release the distinctive smell of sweaty feet."

The insects reached the U.S. in Allentown, Pa., in 2001, apparently as stowaways in a shipping container from Asia. Now they're spreading, they have no known natural predators, and there's "no easy way to kill lots of the bugs at once." Complicating matters, "the invasion is only going to get worse."

So, where's the political angle?

Rep. Roscoe Bartlett, a Republican who represents Maryland's rural 6th District, sent a letter Friday, signed by 15 members of Congress, asking U.S. Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack and Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Lisa P. Jackson to take immediate action to limit damage caused by Halyomorpha halys.

Of the 15 members who signed the letter, eight of them are Republicans -- all from states between West Virginia and New Jersey, and all fairly conservative members of the GOP caucus. The group of lawmakers are looking for "coordinated federal government assistance" from the Obama administration to help farmers and local economies deal with the bugs.

[snip]

There seems to be a bit of disconnect here between Republican ideology and real-world problems. On the one hand, conservative lawmakers like Bartlett hate "big government," the EPA, federal regulations, and government bureaucrats. This year, plenty of GOP candidates are talking about eliminating the EPA, firing parts of the federal workforce, scrapping regulations, and slashing spending on various agencies.

Shouldn't conservative lawmakers, right about now, expect the free market to offer a solution to the stink-bug problem? Why hasn't the GOP offered everyone a tax credit for fly swatters and facemasks? Why aren't Tenthers running around demanding to know where, exactly, the Constitution empowers the federal government to deal with an insect infestation?

Apparently, when confronted with the potential horror of smelling sweaty feet in their very own homes, Cons can be persuaded to abandon their principles and scream for Mommy.  So here's an idea for you, my darlings.  Go collect yourselves some brown marmorated stink bugs.  They should fit easily in a match box or some such container.  Then bring them to your Con politician's next town hall.  When they start frothing at the mouth over the evul gubmint, remove the lid from your container, present the contents to the Con, and ask in calm and reasonable tones, "Then why did you scream for the 'evul gubmint' to eradicate these poor little pests?"

It's probably just a matter of time before the Teabaggers start parading around with signs saying "Keep Your Government Hands Off Our Agricultural Pests." 

Bits and Pieces of Note

I've got this random collection of open tabs, which may be of interest to some viewers.

First up is a delicious collection of rocks Suzanne found for me.  In a field of drumlins and glacial till in Boston Harbor, young landforms dumped by retreating ice sheets, you can see occasional outcrops of the Earth's bare bones.  Islands of 600 million year-old mudstone in a sea of young upstarts - you can practically hear it yelling at the drumlins, "Backbones!  Why, back in my day, people didn't even have backbones!  Newfangled contraptions!" and "Ah, to be young and muddy again!"

Silver Fox posted this delightful bit on field geology just as we were collecting Lockwood and heading off for Mary's Peak.  My intrepid companion and I hadn't gotten a chance to read it ourselves, but Lockwood gave us a good precis, and the rest of the trip was filled with references to "x-mph geology."  I just have to quote this bit:

The speed-geology terminology, along with an unrelated warp speed terminology, was invented by myself and another thermally altered geo-type back in the 1980s, probably while bouncing up and down some excessively rocky road in the Mojave Desert. Warp speed terminology is appropriate when gauging speed rather than geology: Warp 1 is 10 mph, a speed indicating that one is probably going steeply uphill or traversing one of those terribly rocky roads. Warp 2 (20 mph) is much preferred to Warp 1, but that still isn't much. If Scotty will give it all she's got, maybe you can get your speed up to Warp 4 or 5 on a dirt road, which is heaven, unless the washboard causes "She's breakin' up, Captain," in which case Scotty will have to wind the engines down to a more comfortable Warp 3 or 4. Also, Warp 4.5 to 5 on a dirt road can result in extreme turbulence when one comes over a hill and then bottoms into some unexpected washout on the other side. Scotty might then decide that, "She's comin' apart, Captain," which isn't a good thing no matter what warp you happen to be doing. Scotty has already resorted to, "I'm giving her all she's got, Captain!" Since that hasn't worked, you might then have to stop to regenerate your dilithium crystals (or have lunch or some other refreshment). Trees are in scarce supply in the Mojave, so the shade of your truck might be all you'll have for the precious dilithium to regenerate in.

When I read that, I laughed so hard I very nearly cried.  Had I been drinking fluid of any description, my poor keyboard wouldn't have survived the experience.

I know most of you have seen Callan Bentley's delectable post on the rocks of Haghia Sophia, but I hope you gave some attention to his delightful write-up of the Champlain thrust fault as well.  It's pictures like this:

that make his blog sparkle for me.  I never know when I'm going to get hit with an unexpected image that illustrates a geologic concept in oddball ways.

Speaking of images, you really should treat yourself to Dan McShane's sunset pics.  Go on.  You deserve it!

In great good news from home, it looks like Pima County's light ordinances are doing the trick, and Arizona astronomy shall be going strong for quite some time to come.  Oh, how I miss those deep, dark desert skies!

And, in news that might interest those of my readers who hope to be counted as authors someday, it seems self-publishing isn't quite the death-knell it used to be (h/t).  Agents aren't looking at that self-published tome as an automatic admission that you suck so badly as a writer that you had to pay someone to print your pablum on pulp.  That's encouraging!

Additionally, another bit that will delight the literary types among us: "Goodbye, cruel words: English. It's dead to me."


Now, I know what you're asking.  You're bouncing up and down on your toeses howling, "But Dana, where are the bloody vacation pics?!"  And the answer is, "They're coming.  Tomorrow, in fact."  Lockwood's got a bit on Mary's Peak posted, and I've got some supplemental photos for that all picked out.  It's just a matter of ensuring I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing (seriously need to start using the audio notes feature of that camera, damn it).  Then I shall put them up for you, along with some other select bits.  Why not tonight, you ask?  Because the cat just crawled into my lap, insists on pinning my arms in one place, and refuses to keep her bloody paws off the keyboard.  It is terribly difficult to manipulate photos when the cat keeps randomly clicking the mouse.

Why not move the cat, you ask?  Have you seen how my cat reacts when asked to move?

Let's just say she becomes upset.  And she recently figured out the precise position she needs to be in so that maximum damage can be caused before self-defense measures can be employed.  Clever little beast.  Homicidal and clever.