String Theory

If you think this post is about String Theory and its convoluted explanation of reality through vibrations and the contemplation of n dimensions, you are going to be sadly disillusioned. Bugger esoteric theory, for today's outpouring remains fully embedded in practical reality. Please note: There will be no mention of Hot Gypsies, Hola!

I am perplexed, and facing a problem of extreme befuddlement. As my general readership will no doubt be aware, I'm a rabid archer and the unrepentant owner of 36 bows spanning across cultural and historical bounds. 

In order to use a bow for the purpose of propelling a yard shaft, at a suitable target, or annoying neighbour, there has to be a string to mediate the process. The purpose of the string is to act as an intermediary in the transfer of kinetic energy that is expelled at the time of release. This energy accumulates within the limbs of the bow as the archer transfers his/her muscular energy. This energy transfer is not 100% efficient; waste will accrue, and energy will dissipate, generally through heat loss, and thus will not be available to power the projectile's propulsion. The laws of thermodynamics are not to be violated or denied. Modern recurve bows, however, are very efficient at transferring energy, and thus energy loss is minimised. Paradoxically, modern compound bows, with all their clever design, and although considered the pinnacle of the engineer's skill, are less efficient in ceding the energy reserve for useful work than the humble stick. The reflex/deflex of the recurve bow and the ingenious use of laminations, wood, fibreglass, and sometimes carbon, are cleverly fashioned to exploit each material's strengths and, by combination, extol their synergistic alliance. The second law of thermodynamics, although never defeated, exacts a toll that remains within accepted and manageable limits. The compound bow beloved by the hunter loses a greater degree of stored energy to frictional heat loss than the humble recurve. This fine, machine, the wonder of the age, efficient energy transference, is superseded by another inbuilt priority. Its goal has been by necessity transformed. The pulleys, cams and cables inherent within the system are ultimately designed to enable a final, steady and unhurried release. 'Let Off' is the hunter's friend.  'Let Off' is the design default. And let's be clear and cogent: I'm not discussing Big Bill's colonic gaseous emissions that come forth after a heavy Saturday night's drinking in the 'Felching Ferret' and the obligatory consumption of a vindaloo. No, 'Let Orrf' in this context refers to the engineer's skill, through a thorough understanding of classical mechanics. Potential energy is stored within the totality of the system, not just in the limbs. This is where the engineer's skill in creating a machine with an intricate array of finely tuned and crafted parts comes into play. At full draw, the power is distributed within the 'workings' of the bow. Although the full draw weight of the bow is, let us say, 50lbs, the archer, at full draw, experiences a hold of no more than 5lbs; this is termed 90% let off. The compound bow holds the other 45lbs in abeyance, in the beguiling array of cables, composite material and double cams. The advantage is clearly seen. But Nature demands balance. All must bow/bow to the laws that will and cannot be violated or denied. The charlatan who peddles impossible, nay, implausable, perpetual 'free' energy engines can only thrive but for the want of a middle-grade understanding of the immutable laws of causal reality. The presence of the extra machinery that affords convenience is in itself a contradiction. The final benefit of comfort and accommodation is a chimaera of deceit. Energy trapped in the machine pays a toll for the inevitable multiplication of frictional loss, a consequence of the maze of complexity. The modern recurve, though deceptively simple, is the more effective machine, at least in terms of total energy transfer per pound of input. How can it be otherwise?

Anyway, I've managed to wend my way off the beaten track. The topic to be presented has been bypassed and left unattended. This is the dilemma I must face. The Muse that accompanies my soul, on occasion, is a capricious sprite that comes and goes without bidding and leaves me drained and used up. During her stay, she demands total obedience and expects frenetic typing on topics that fly through my brain unattended and bereft of control. I am a mere puppet and dance with the twang of the firings of neurons. I have little volition and must spew forth the froth and detritus that invades my mind. She is a cruel and compelling mistress- but I must obey. And when she leaves, oftentimes she is the herald of the 'Black Hound' that crushes my being. 

So, back to the Topic at Hand- for some reason, I have digressed

I have a surfeit of bow strings. Foolishly, I had placed a large number of strings, of various lengths, within a box. I confess, I wasn't particularly meticulous with their placement. However, I kept them separate, or so I thought. Moving forward a span, I needed a spare string for a bow and therefore rummaged through the box to see if a suitable replacement could be found. Imagine my dismay when I found a tangled mass befitting of the Gordian Knot. Unlike the problem Alexander faced over 2,000 years ago, a sharp blade was not the solution. In the time the strings had been allowed to nestle, they had mysteriously entwined, twisted, and interlocked, defying rational discernment. In fact, they were so interwoven that the separation of even one string defied my concerted effort.  So, my question to the savants that deign to read this drivel: What is going on? How come strings, left separate and unattended for a while, become hopelessly interlocked? Now I am an unashamed rationalist and empiricist, completely immersed in the scientific method. My journey to this intellectual revelation and truth did not happen easily or overnight. Tis the product of many years of education and reflection. How come entities, abundant, have become interlaced in multifold ways that logic and rational understanding hold no sway? During the time of repose, the box containing said strings, left unabused, and without outside interference, as far as can be rationally determined, somehow experienced outside or internal interactions that require agency. Energy must have been expended, whether that energy came from outside or from within the confines of the system is to be determined. I am at a loss to offer a solution that jibes with sound induction. Surely, there is one, or a cohort, of my esteemed readers that can proffer an explanation that is in accord with what I hold sacred in my ordered and highly rational worldview. There has to be some energy source involved to move the strings in convoluted, interconnected ways. I am losing sleep as the problem denies any explanation that remains solid with my rational domain. Hopefully, there is a wise soul out in the vast expanse of the blogosphere who can come up with an explanation that beats my reliance on amitriptyline. Otherwise, I am doomed to awake at 4am, after a restless night of tossing and turning, to be fully immersed in this dreadful conundrum. It invades my waking hours also. It will not leave me and haunts both my days and nights in equal measure. In sheer desperation, I am pushed to utter despair and driven to contemplate the existence of a poltergeist named Rupert. Naughty Rupert, places odd socks in my drawer. He hides my car keys and sequesters my wallet when I need it. Will someone save me from incoherence and uncertainty? I have spent the last 50 years of my scientific professional existence building an edifice of rock-solid certainty and intellectual comprehension. Things made rational sense. Of course, not all of the universe's mysteries have been unravelled. But with time and scientific endeavour, all is within our grasp, eventually. The elements of the Supernatural need not intrude on my well-ordered scientific paradigm.  

Is there anyone who can restore my confidence in an ordered universe governed by long-established rules based on irrefutable mathematics and logic? Surely, there is someone well-versed in physics, mayhap beyond my meagre knowledge, who has the wisdom to explain the cosmic quantum forces that befuddle my simple mind and can provide an explanation that doesn't evoke the mischievous sprite, Rupert.

My sanity is in your hands... 

           

Fish: Early Evolution Of

Ancestor of all Living Vertebrates

Posts of late are straying from my Biological roots. This post is designed to restore the balance, somewhat. However, if my readers are expecting a detailed and rich explanation concerning the evolution of those Pesky Pisces, they are going to be sadly disabused.  The following is not without informational content. With that said, there is much errant intellectual meandering without coherent purpose or relevant direction. I make no apologies for this screed.  Honestly, I can state with sincere intent/content that my effort was the result of the Muse, which is oft sitting upon my shoulder, spewing a diatribe that defies editing or mediation/moderation. Enjoy. 

This morning, I propelled myself at an age-appropriate, sedentary pace along the path of a local country lane. This morning ritual is sometimes referred to as 'running'; however, I prefer to call the ambulatory process/progress Dotage Dodering. Anyway, I'm starting to wander/wonder off the path/page. During the forward momentum, I was destined to pass over a small brook. This insignificant water course is usually of no interest to me. But on this occasion, for reasons not immediately discernible, I decided to stop and peer over the low parapet. My unprompted curiosity was promptly rewarded. As my eyes focused on the lightly 'tea-stained' babbling water, I espied a denizen, not a troll, close to the bridge edge. An eel had emerged from its burrow within the bank. And it was big. Its shovel-shaped head measured nearly the span of my hand, and I estimated that about 2 feet of its sinewy black form was visible, hinting at a total length immeasurable extending within its dark, dank den. The swart eyes impressed upon its sleek dorsal form stared back into mine. Something was unsettling and outre about that unblinking, steady gaze. I moved slowly to the opposite bank, and the head of the eel followed my movement without falter. I got close and peered into the water. The eel stood fast and, with its soulless, dead eyes, latched onto mine. As if by cue, it slowly opened its maw, hinting at fathomless depths of infinite shade. I expected long fangs ready to rend flesh and tear sinew, but instead I was met with two rows of small peg-like protusions, barely discernible. At the termination of the eel's unremarkable dental display, it slowly retreated to its lair. The spell was broken, and the reverie that had held me in thrall dispelled.  

As I continued my forward perambulation (no, I didn't throw the baby in the water), my normally cluttered, chaotic mind pondered my recent experience with uncharacteristically cold precision and logic. In addition, I noted that my nipples were experiencing light but significant chafing. When younger, this might reflect minor arousal, but at 70, it was a nuisance. This is particularly pronounced as I have been 'sported' with a minor congenital abnormality termed in the medical community as a teritary or accessory nipple. Thus, I am doomed not only by 'runner's chafed nipple x2', but in my case, I have to suffer the indignity of 50% more irritation. Note to self: apply extra vaseline, not nipple rouge, to three redundant anatomical appendages. My brain retreated into the archives and dredged through the meagre knowledge concerning mouths, and in particular, jaws and teeth. I sourced a scant snippet (redundant, double positive) on the evolution of said anatomical features and recalled that jaws first emerged in fish and that the jaw evolved from a bony gill arch. My interest stirred, I turned on my heel and hurried home as fast as my arthritic bipedal appendages could bear. Once showered, I entered my inner retreat/den/office/sanctum and placed the 'Bugger Orff' sign on the door. Suitably encounced, I scoured the internet, absorbing knowledge like a man demented.

What follows, after this rather dilatory and particularly irrelevant introduction, are the labours of my rather incoherent and not particularly focused research. Unfortunately, I became distracted by sites concerning the sexual stimuli of applied nipple rouge. Naughty Flaxen!      

Think back to 600 million years ago (Edicaran Period). Life, albeit simple, abounded in the shallows of endless seas. The land was a barren place, and life of any degree had not evolved sufficient sustaining features to allow exploitation and colonisation. Thick mats of bacterial blooms dominated the sea floor. Strange blob-like animals lie supine and inactive on the bacterial drugget. Nutrients from prokaryotic growth drift into the mucus covering of primitive animals by osmotic processes and natural gradient equalisation. The squat, irregularly shaped creatures are devoid of the features that would subsequently evolve and define and dominate the Cambrian Explosion to come. But as yet, animals lack a gut, skeletal structure, and organised neural collective complexity. And importantly, no means of sensing or moving in a direction. They are bound to where they lie and only move to the tune and whim of currents and powerful physical forces to which they can neither react nor resist. This is a time of bacterial abundance. There is no halt to their remorseless growth, and they dominate and carpet the seabed without check. But this would change.  

Now we move toward the end of the Edicaran. Animals have evolved; some continue their sequestered existence. However, evolution has moulded other creatures to exploit a loophole. The predator is born. By 558 million years ago, we see the emergence of active predators (of sorts). They have developed reactive senses that supply information about their environment. They respond, and as the gut evolves, they can graze on the bacterial expanse and finally actively digest the cells. 

During the early Cambrian, we see the development of the notochord, a rudimentary backbone in what would become the bony fish. These early fish were devoid of jaw and fins and propelled themselves by whip movements of their sinuous body. Their mouths were but gaping holes, and feeding was achieved by sucking up bottom detritus. The Cambrian was a dynamic period for evolution, and during this time fish evolved jaws, from gill arches, fins, bony protective plates and eventually teeth, possibly derived from dental skin plates. Fish had moved from being the prey of the boneless mollusc-like critters to being their predators. The combination of jaws, teeth and rapid movement became a formidable formation. This formula became the dominant mode of life for prey and predator alike. Humans are direct descendants of the first bony fish. The evolutionary development of the fundamental anatomical features described was already present in fish by the late Cambrian.

Fins would become lobes, allowing fish to tentatively invade the land. Amphibians would be the result. A phyllum betwixt the two mediums, but master of none. With the evolution of reptiles, animals would finally divorce themselves from the seas and become permanent residents and eventually masters of the land. But that's a story for another day. But only if I can be Arrrsed!           

Trans. Part I. The Awakening

This blog's primary focus is not on social commentary. Most of my readers take for granted that Modern Society is Donald Ducked; Tipton rhyming slang. So, I don't want to make a habit of this sort of thing. This blog is an oasis of clear water in an arid desert of impending Doom. And now I'm being a pretentious cunt. The trouble is the world is becoming more and more strange (is it?), and I'm adrift in a sea of floating detritus, and mayhap a bit of flotsam and jetsam thrown in for dramatic effect. (stop it, Flaxen! You are waxing lyrical again, and either you haven't taken your meds, or you are pissed again.) Nuff said. 

I'll be using the US as my paradigm for discussion; however, what I have to say is clearly relevant throughout the West.   

My previous post, 'LOST', has certainly struck a chord with my regular readership. Admittedly, the folk who frequent my modest blogging effort tend to be of the elder demographic. However, I will boldly state that they also belong to the class of folk who think deeply about the world in which they live, and many are the recipients of a higher education. But higher ed is not essential. From my comment section, I get the impression that my core block of readers is smarter than the average ferret (sorry shagger).

The thrust of my post put forth the idea that I no longer feel part of society. Society over the past 20 years has morphed into something no longer identifiable as Western or European civilisation. Or has it? We seem to live in an age where every minority within society has a voice disproportionate to the small size of the group- and that voice is certainly loud. And we are expected to uncritically agree and endorse these folk, regardless of how bizarre or counter to the norms of a well-ordered moral society their agenda purports to be (?wot is dat den). The thing is, for the most part, society has not changed. The majority have not changed their views at the drop of every cultural fad. Most of us ignore the minority social interjection, laugh at the blatant ridiculousness of the agenda, and go on about our lives unsullied. What is insidious is the constant social media deluge we are subjected to on issues that generally do not impact our lives and which we have zero interest in. The problem is that wily politicians and the media are quick to notice this background social 'noise', and if they see movement that may give them traction amongst certain minority voting sectors, or readership, they may consider lending their support.  Even traditionally conservative groups that have, in the past, baulked at supporting outlandish ideologies may be tempted to relent. If there is political mileage to be made, a bandwagon to jump on, or a trumpet to blow, sleazy career politicians are always first in line.

Mainstream society can weather a lot of attacks from the left-wing press and sleazy politicians. The deluge of print and words from folk trying to swamp us with ideologies we do not care about leaves little impact on the millions who go about their day, go to work, and ignore crass nonsense. Sometimes the message does register, but not in ways predicted by those who promulgate it. Remember the backlash against the Bud Light ads a few years back. The inclusion of a transgender woman in the tele ads caused a drop in the beer's sales between 11 to 26%  within a month of the ad's projection. The brewery's stock fell 20% within a very short time. The boycott caused serious financial damage to the company. Never underestimate the power of drunks when they sober up. What were the ad people thinking? Perhaps they were trying to elevate a traditionally blue-collar drink to the chattering classes. It failed miserably. They lost their traditional customers, and the targeted audience did not take up the slack. Feminine heads did roll. 

Related to the ad is a movement that has gained almost unprecedented momentum over the past 16 years. I'm referring to the Transgender Revolution. In 2010, it was estimated that 1 in 10,000 people in the US suffered from Gender Incongruence, a rare condition where the biological gender does not coincide with an individual's perceived gender identity. In most cases, clinicians of the not-too-distant past considered the condition a mental disorder. The definition can be extended. In extremely rare cases, individuals possessing gonadal tissue from both male and female sex organs, with associated morphological changes, render sex assignment at birth exceedingly difficult. Truly, these patients deserve to be allocated a distinct third gender; in the past, they were termed Hermaphrodites, now Intersex. A chromosome disorder or a single-gene defect may be identified as the causative factor, but not in all cases. The genetic and chromosomal aberrations associated with these conditions are highly complex and fascinating, and they beg to be discussed on this very blog. Especially as it impinges on my previous professional interest and expertise; be warned, it can get technical.

Skip forward to today, and the incidence of perceived Gender Incongruence in the US hovers around 3%, with 2% expressing doubts about their assigned gender role. And this change has come within 10 years. WTF has happened within the past 10 years to validate this massive jump in gender confusion? And this phenomenon is not confined to the US, as similar figures are being reported in Western Europe and Australasia. The increase in cases is mostly affecting Generations Z and Alpha, which should give us a clue, as these generations were the first to grow up fully immersed in the explosion of online social media. Another clue lies in the sex of those identifying as Trans. Historically, the condition overwhelmingly affected men much more than women; however, today the demographic shift has been reversed, and biological women are coming forward in greater numbers than men- I wonder why?  

So what has happened to completely uproot society's gender norms and push society to entertain concepts that only exist in a linguistic freak show?  Only those born in a social quietude that existed previously will have a clue about what I am alluding to. Somehow, society appears to have lost its grip on reality and noisily slipped into the 'Twilight Zone'.

The rise of social media has been rapid and transformative. Facebook, the undoubted leader in the game, has 3.1 billion consumers as of 2025. Media platforms, WhatsApp and YouTube, have over 1 billion users each. Social media is undoubtedly a double-edged sword. It enables folk to share their views with the world and to connect with like-minded folk. However, it is a nest of manipulation and a hive of misinformation. People, especially young people, are influenced by social media. Questionable agendas from minority groups can be promulgated worldwide. The platform is easily distorted, and spurious information can be disseminated en masse to the masses. Then there are issues of privacy. Information can be collected and sold to unscrupulous parties for financial gain. There are other societal influences that are operating to interweave the 'Transgender Issue' into the realm of everyday reality. And it was achieved with an efficiency and an overarching impact that staggers the rational mind.  

In the subsequent posts on the topic, I'm going to consider the driving forces behind the take-off of the Trans Movement, its societal, political and medical impacts, and anything else that has suddenly popped into my tortured psyche. In particular, I would like to discuss the biology of Intersex Folk and its ramifications. And of course, I need to rationally discuss whether we are talking about biology or something else. My heart goes out to those who genuinely belong to the exceedingly rare group of folk with the condition. Their plight is being distorted and drowned out in the mass, collective tumult of those who don't deserve a hearing. But how to discern the difference? What I don't want to do in this blog is to take a swipe at folk with a genuine medical diagnosis, or the poor kids being manipulated and coerced into decisions that will have significant physiological and psychological consequences for the rest of their lives. The latter category is victims of social forces that they are too young to comprehend.

Lean back and soon be ready to read Flaxen's askew and oft awry look at a topic that demands a cold, critical and sober appraisal (Hic) from a man tottering and weaving toward the abyss of frank insanity. And, don't forget it's ferrets all the way down. Makes complete sense, doesn't it?

LOST

I wrote this post without previous forethought or planning. It flowed from my 'pen' as if it had control of my tortured mind. It is long, but there is much to say. I don't blame my readers for giving up mid-flow. This post is my way of shedding thoughts on paper that need to be said. It is my personal cathartic release and has to be said for the prime purpose of my mental clarity and sanity.

I am the archetypal Baby Boomer. I was born in 1956, and my father, like many young men of the era, had been a soldier and had actively fought in combat. My father was 'demobbed' in 1953 after suffering severe wounds obtained during the Korean War and spent 6 months in a Japanese hospital. The men of the Silent Generation were the product of the Great Depression and the Second World War, probably the most destructive war in history, in which 80 million people lost their lives. It is difficult for the modern mind to contemplate the impact this war had on the world: the wide-world desolation; the economic cost; the geopolitical consequences; and, finally, the effect on the minds of the folk who went through these times, especially the men and women who were actively part of military action. Again, it is impossible to comprehend how these experiences shaped the way their minds responded, developed and coped. However, as a general rule, they were tough, resilient and self-sufficient. And in Britain, at least, many were poor. Britain had been bankrupted and placed in hock to the new emerging superpower, the United States. Unlike the defeated nations, Germany and Japan, Britain was not subject to the huge largess lavished on the vanquished. How come the enemy thrived, while Britain, which had contended with Germany from the very start, became diminished and pauperised? Food rationing didn't officially end until July 1954- a wartime contingency initiated in 1939. And only after unrest and protests by the population was this measure lifted.

The point is that our parents were a different breed, shaped by their experiences and the hardships they endured. Their children, the Boomers, were raised in a way incomprehensible to the generations that followed. My father was a hard man and set out to raise me in his image. He inculcated into his 4-year-old flaxen-haired son a simple dictum: 'Never suffer anyone laying their hands on you, or verbally threatening you'. In these circumstances, I was commanded to fight without any verbal foreplay. It was a simple rule that my small, developing brain absorbed wholeheartedly. There was no room for nuance or graded response. It was perfect behavioural conditioning that was imprinted on my emerging and evolving neural landscape. The response was binary, a simple on/off switch triggered for violence. There was no thought involved; the reaction was primal and primed to go off. Invariably, as I played in the grimy streets of a small Black Country town as a dirt besmirched, undernourished four-year-old, an urchin would tickle the neural trigger. Those were the halcyon days when a four-year-old could roam the streets unsupervised. I remember one particular occasion where an ike, no different from myself, saw fit to swing on me for no particular reason. We fought in the street until a passing adult intervened and pulled us, urchins, apart. The aftermath: whenever we sighted each other, we would run like demented berserkers (is there any other type?), crashing into each other without a word. Again, we would be parted, but the cycle would continue. Eventually, an older kid in the alley brought us together, we exchanged names, shook hands and never fought again.

My parents wanted me to absorb the values, strengths and qualities that made them get through the worst of times. They wanted me prepared for horrors that never came. It was the midst of the Cold War, and there was always the real risk that the Third World War could erupt with scant warning. The Cuba Affair was a close-run thing, and we came close to Armageddon. Europe had no illusions about their chances. Thousands of Russian tanks were poised in East Germany, Poland and Czechoslovakia, ready to careen west. The Soviet doctrine was simple: overwhelm NATO with huge numbers of men, tanks, artillery, fighter and bomber jets. They called it Deep Battle. They relied on speed and dislocation, and there was also the overarching threat of nuclear weapons, whether tactical or strategic. They planned to reach the Rhine within days. We lived in exciting times.  Could our parents have been preparing and inuring us, either consciously or unconsciously, to the likely hardships and vicissitudes to come? Regardless, we became our parents, well, at least I became my father.

March forward to today. Discipline is lax both at home and at school. A few months ago, I had the dubious pleasure of watching three teachers trying to control a potentially violent situation at the gates of the local school. A large Maori lad, about 15 (?stone ), was facing two male teachers with outstretched hands, desperately trying to defuse the enraged boy. A couple of yards away, a female teacher was remonstrating with a girl who was actively taunting the boy. The boy responded with grave threats of violence. As the boy advanced, his way was blocked by the teachers working in concert. At no time did the teachers make physical contact with the pupils. Eventually, both kids lost their steam, and the much-relieved teachers escorted them back into the school, separately. But it seemed a close-run thing that could have gone awry with just a twitch. When I was at school, discipline was maintained by our natural respect for authority figures, and teachers fitted that role. And indeed, if steely-eyed sanctions failed, the teachers of the day could lay hands on rebellious students. Pupils could be physically restrained, and corporal punishment was the norm. I wasn't a particularly naughty pupil, but there were occasions when I was caned, slapped across the leg and hand with the ruler and spanked with the pump. On one instance, I had a well-aimed blackboard rubber bounce off my well-appointed noggin- 'good shot, Sir'. At home, I was verbally and physically disciplined. Now, let me be clear. I am not advocating that the young folk of the land should be physically assaulted in the name of discipline. I raised two wonderful humans to respect others and be good citizens of the land, without ever performing an act of violence on their beautiful blond/blonde heads. With a glance and a word, discipline was maintained. Of course, no system is perfect, and a little high-spirited rebellion is to be expected and tolerated. We are not raising unthinking drones, after all.

There has to be a middle ground within society where teachers are allowed to physically restrain students in difficult circumstances without the career-ending indignity of arrest and incarceration. Young minds are inherently immature, and if left to meander unrestrained within society, insanity will ensue. We are starting to see that in the Western schoolroom. With zero sanctions, there is zero control. The internet is festooned with anecdotal stories from teachers, crazed by administrative direction, that undermine the core values of education. Today, I heard from a frustrated teacher, on the verge of collapse, about how she must award a 50% mark to a student for unsubmitted work on a project. A piss poor submission of unredeemable effort and quality receives an automatic 66% mark. In a classroom where no one can fail, even if they never turn up or submit work, what is the point?  A rubber stamp approves laziness and stupidity. No wonder US teachers are leaving the profession in unprecedented numbers. Indeed, the lunatics have finally taken over the asylum.   

And there's more: Consider the situation in an American university sorority where a supposed transgender, born male, now 'female' managed to insinuate itself in a traditional all-biologically-female (is there any other type?) sorority with the backing of the university administration. The situation is ludicrous. Apparently, the individual in question is 6' 2' and weighs 240 lbs and makes no effort to dress or behave femininely. This he/she has been foisted on the all-female biological sorority against the wishes of the majority of the real female members under the rule of inclusivity. Apparently, this individual becomes patently aroused in the girl's presence, acts in a creepy manner and asks the girls inappropriate questions. Such as: "Can you describe your vagina?" The girls took the matter to court in order to have he/she removed from the sorority as it is an all biologically female association. The judge adjudicated in favour of the interloper on the basis that the sorority's rules, written in the 1850s, do not specifically exclude transgender wierdos, er, I mean he/him/she/her/it/that/ferret. The girls are seriously considering dissolving the sorority and starting anew with new rules for acceptance, with specific reference to the presence of anatomical female pudenda. Genius move by the girls. And then I watched a video of two backpackers, aged in their 20s, obviously boyfriend and girlfriend. They seem to be positioned in a high street festooned with shops. The shop's camera captures the incredible unfolding situation in all its sad, pathetic clarity. As the couple stand in the elusive peace of the street, an incident unfolds. Out of the blue, a young man appears and grabs hold of the woman's backpack. This is the cue for the boyfriend to rush to his girlfriend's aid, beating off the assailant to the relief of the girlfriend, thus illustrating the age-old rule: A man protects the womenfolk. But no, boyfriend nervously looks on as his partner furiously and bravely keeps hold of the backpack. The assailant keeps on attacking. Boyfriend now decides to retreat behind a pillar, occasionally glancing to see how the proceedings are developing. This crazy situation seems to go on for an indordant amount of time. The brave girl is not giving up her backpack. Eventually, a gaggle of real men intervene, and the weasel (note: not a ferret) of a thief is taken down. Once the danger had dissipated, the now 'brave' boyfriend appears from behind the safety of his pillar to administer succour and comfort to his courageous girlfriend. Too late the hero. I hope with all my strength and enraged sinew that this brave young lady kicks the ex-boyfriend in the bollocks and starts dating to find a real man. I am not saying that all men of the latest generation are blatant, wretched cowards. But there is a definite move to undermine masculinity and promote male softness. Men are being emasculated without consent, and the trend continues.      

I'm lost. I don't understand society and its so-called rules. The crazy thing is, most folk, including later generations, don't get it too. Doesn't matter. Quiet dissenting voices of the majority are drowned out, beaten down by a small cadre of screaming, strident, raucous and strangely unpleasant people. And we see that this insanity is increasingly backed by those in power. Freedom of speech is becoming a fiction in Western society. A right that has been gained by the blood of our forefathers is being stripped away by those who only care about image and money. The majority have been discarded for the insanity, posing as inclusivity, of every minority group with an agenda that is getting increasingly strange and beyond the comprehension of everyday folk. I am lost and awash in a society that I no longer understand or want to be part of.

Social Darwinism

Hello Daddy? I've got his nose

I often scroll through YouTube for ideas and enlightenment. Today, I came across a brief post in which a professor lectured to students about a hypothesis concerning male aggression, its social consequences, and its implications for social evolution. I was intrigued by the post and decided to outline his thesis to provide fodder for further discussion and, perhaps, debate.

Here goes: The goodly professor begins with an observation about our primate cousins, then extends his ideas to encompass Darwinian Selection. I confess, I do not have the name or credentials of the lecturer to hand, but that is immaterial for the thrust of the discussion. All I can offer is that the lecturer under scrutiny is not named Dr Mugumbo, of that I'm sure. Let your imagination run free and wild. If your curiosity remains unrestrained, then Gogle is your friend. Let it loose to satisfy an urge that is difficult to articulate but remains rampant. Sometimes an itch must be scratched, even if the pruritus is non-afferent in character and lies unrestrained within the conscious portion of the cerebral cortex. Moving on.  

The lecturer noted that our closest primate relatives, including chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas, operate on the principle of 'The Alpha Male Hierachy'. In primate troops, there is invariably a prime alpha male who corrals and enforces exclusive access to the sexually mature females of the troop. This primacy is maintained by hyperaggressive behaviour. Under these circumstances, the alpha male will rely on behavioural intimidation tactics to discourage other aggressive males from challenging his enviable position of excessive female appropriation. Ultimately, if posturing and bellowing fail to deter, then the ultimate recourse is physical violence. This is not something that is casually undertaken by the challenger. The alpha male has ultimate control for a reason. Hyperaggression is not the only attribute required. This male is likely to be very large, quick and tough. And after many encounters, he is likely to be a battle-hardened veteran. The potential interloper must pick his fights with due care and prudence. If injured, it is not only pride that is at stake. 'A Good Sound Kicking' can lead to infection and death. The impudent male challenger must pick his fights with deliberation. However, a young 'buck' flooded with testosterone is an impetuous fellow.  Eventually, the top male will teeter, fall, and be replaced by a younger, alpha male. Ultimate failure is written in the genetic code. Age and time are relentless and make failures of us all, in the end. 

The social system, as described, results in sexual dimorphism. Sexual dimorphism refers to differences in physical size and strength between the sexes of the same species, and, within mammalian species, the male is invariably the larger as determined by these genetically controlled characteristics. Large, aggressive males will, all things being equal, sire large, aggressive males. The genetic lottery is rigged in their favour. While sexually mature females of the troop suffer the indignity of forced sexual exclusivity, they also can be assured that the genes passed on will tend towards hypergressive traits in their sons. Hyperaggression does not ensure troop dominance. Indeed, most males, even those with favourable attributes, will fail to breed under this social system. With that said, hyperaggressive behaviour is an essential characteristic for a male, together with an imposing physique, for him to gain ascendancy of the troop. The rest of the males of the troop are denied the powerful urge to reproduce by his presence. Interestingly, some males, by dint of stealth and opportunity, may gain sexual access to the females, albeit intermittently- so-called 'Sneaky Maters'. The alpha male must remain constantly vigilant to ensure exclusive access to his valuable resource. By virtue of the system, the alpha male has no allies to help sustain his position, and 100% attentive and covetous surveillance is a fiction. Thus, smaller, agile males may take advantage of the alpha males' downtime to secure a brief romantic interlude; however, hurried and rushed it may be. Therefore, genetic flow within the troop is not necessarily maintained exclusively by the alpha male; 'Genetic Leakage', though small, is virtually assured.  

At this stage, we must ponder why humans do not follow the 'Alpha Male' social structure as practised by our primate cousins. Clearly, this system is highly disadvantageous to the vast majority of males within the troop, as they lose the opportunity to mate. We differ fundamentally from our close relatives by virtue of our superior intelligence. We are capable of higher-order communication that, in turn, facilitates social organisation. Thus, by collective male action, any potential alpha male takeover of the breeding pool can be easily curtailed by concerted, higher-order action. Alpha males do well, but 10 beta males with pointed sticks do better. 

Let us go back 12,000 years, when humanity was beginning to transition from a hunter-gatherer lifestyle to a settled, habitual way of life. 

 With human settlement, as a natural consequence of the introduction of agriculture, and the expansion of the population due to the availability of a predictable food supply, a higher order of societal cohesion and development would be required. Autocratic, 'one man rule' (kingship) seems to have become invariable, for reasons not to be considered here. The institution of kings, whether hereditary in nature or by other means, can only be sustained with the cooperation of others. This is in stark contrast to our primate cousins, where the lack of concerted cooperation is essential to the maintenance of alpha male control. With a settled society and greater societal collaboration comes the development of an institutionalised justice system, albeit crude and highly reliant on the sanction of death, for even minor infractions. The good professor argued that individuals so inclined by temperament and genetics to exhibit and respond with hyperaggression would be quickly sought out and subject to judicial assassination by decree. This would not only act as a deterrent to those similarly inclined but also prevent the establishment of the primate model of alpha-male usurpation within the society. Also, as a consequence, there would be a reduction in the flow of genes into the population that are responsible for hyperaggressive behaviour. Monogamous mating would be the consequence. Most men in a population would be able to exercise their powerful urge to procreate. Sadly, there will always be outliers who, for various reasons, are unable to sample the pleasures of sexual congress. I am not suggesting that the advent of agriculture initiated a change in human mating strategy. Undoubtedly, the impetus to move from alpha-male status to egalitarian sexual behaviour arose much earlier, when humans relied on the erratic bounty of hunting and gathering wild herbs. The ability to employ a Beta Male cooperative strategy came about when humans, or proto-humans, gathered enough intelligence to plan and execute the execution of alpha males. The days of Alpha Male Sexual Usurpation were doomed.  

In modern society, hyperaggressive males, who are unable to control their violence towards others, are quickly identified and subject to neutralisation and removal from polite society in order to cauterise, nay curtail, potential harm. Need I say more?

Is there any evidence to support the hypothesis as outlined above? Remember, for a hypothesis to become a theory, we need evidence, experimental or otherwise, that supports the contention. We know from genetic evidence that in humanity's remote past, very few males contributed to the gene pool. Undoubtedly, we observe sexual dysmorphosis in humans. As a general rule, the male of our species is naturally taller and stronger than the female. This is genetically determined. Though there could be a number of plausible reasons why this might be the case.

I am interested in what my readers make of the speculative hypothesis as outlined above. Is it worthy of further inspection or does it crumble under the weight of inconsistencies, contradictions and implausibility?  Let me know your thoughts in the comment section. 

 

Lagomorphs Lament

The Hunter Awakes!

When I wake in the morning and part the curtains in my bedroom, my eyes are assailed by the bright summer sun.  As I squint and adjust to the deluge of light, the back garden slowly comes into focus. As I scan my domain, I become aware of nature's bounty. Birds perch aloft in maple and sycomore. Bees go about their business, clumsily bouncing between the floral cacophony of delight. Summer is in full swing, and yet the balance of nature has silently shifted. For in plain sight, feeding with gusto, are the scattered forms of my bane. Rabbits, hordes of the voracious critters, sit, dig and munch on what was a healthy lawn. They dig beneath and eat those succulent roots, leaving a scar that no anodyne can repair. The centre piece in the front garden, lovingly tended by Mrs F, has become the Somme c1916. Bulbs have disappeared, and flowers consumed. Mounds of dirt remain rendered sterile by a thousand mastications. And let us not forget the proliferation of warrens.

 Nature In All Its Majesty

Through the eyes of the biologist, I can appreciate the beauty of nature, the rhythms, and the multitude of species coexisting in apparent harmony. But ultimately, I can also see nature in all its raw, cruel and apparent wasteful horror. There is nothing kind in nature. Existence is hard, and lives are curtailed well before their natural time. However, all ecosystems are subject to constraints and the supposed 'harmony' is but an illusion. All species are subject to pressures irrespective of their position in the so-called 'Food Chain'. But here lies a problem that is very much part of the New Zealand landscape. My adopted country is not one naturally teeming with top predators. Before the coming of man, the only mammalian presence was the bat, and the top predators were avian. The arrival of the Maori (c1400AD) resulted in the extinction of many indigenous species. European settlers in the 19th century introduced a variety of mammalian species, including the rat and the rabbit. Rabbits have a well-deserved reputation for rapid reproduction given favourable conditions. The main threat of predation comes from critters introduced by the Europeans, such as stoats and cats. There are also hawk species that will happily feed upon the cute bunnies.

The Solution

I have a powerful .22 air rifle in my possession. I have used it to cull rats that sometimes proliferate on the property. At 10 metres, it delivers a tight group; however, at 25 metres, the spread of pellets makes it unsuitable for an ethical kill at that distance and beyond. It is a relatively modern airrifle and sports a long suppressor on the barrel. The downside is that the barrel that actually fires the projectile is relatively short, which bodes ill for consistent accuracy at long range. Thus, I have just purchased a second rifle: Benjamin Trail NP XL, Nitro Piston Air Rifle in .25. This is a beast, combining raw power with repeatable accuracy at long distance. At .25 calibre, the projectile is heavier and larger than the standard .22-calibre projectile, which is chambered in the most popular type of rifle. It has a break system that takes an estimated 47lbs to cock. This energy is stored within a cylinder containing nitrogen gas. Most airrifles use a spring system to store the energy. The Benjamin Trail, although it propels a relatively large projectile, releases enough energy for the pellet to leave the barrel at blistering speed, maintaining a flat trajectory at distance. This rifle is about as powerful as it gets without owning a gun license, in New Zealand at least. Even so, I had to complete a form and take it to the local Police Station for identity verification, and no doubt, clandestine registration. Once countersigned by an officer, the form is to be emailed to the supplier of the 'Instrument of Doom', or 'Redemption', depending on perspective. I was assured by the police officer that the form would be expedited to the gun shop on the morrow. Only when said form reaches the supplier can my rifle be dispatched. Days later, I'm still awaiting confirmation of receipt from the dealer. Yesterday, with quiet despond, I emailed the company with a characteristically humour-laden message enquiring as to status. As yet, I haven't had a reply. For the enlightenment of my cherished readers, all four of you, I've appended the content of my email. Read and weep.   

Hi Mr Teapot Mugumbo,*

I suspect that the police folk who inhabit the Tipton Police Station have not emailed the requisite form required for the transport of the rifle that I have bought from your esteemed boutique. Strangely enough, the police lady (for it is she) who checked my credentials assured me most assuredly (unnecessary double positive), that the form that would release my property from your sticky fingers to my pristine and unnecessarily hygienic digits, would be sent by electronic means on the morrow. I can only tentatively surmise that great mendacities might be the culprit, or afoot; I am restrained in my conclusion on the premise that those who hold power over us mortal folk never lie. With that said, I am at a loss as to how to move forward to expedite my lawful access to the air rifle of my dreams (don't ask). O woe is me. Mayhap, a passing benign supernatural entity will perceive my dilemma and intervene from their lofty and implausable estimological perch, and take pity on someone so benighted. In the meantime, hordes of lagomorphs dine with impunity on my land, without recrimination or favour. Surely, the insouciant universe, vast as it may be, has more important matters not to contemplate. How am I to proceed? Am I just a pawn, poorly shaped, to be tossed on the storm waves of caprice and dejection? Is this my ultimate fate? How am I to proceed before the shreds of my tenuous, nay, nebulous sanity, become fragmented beyond the capacity of entropy's relentless march to redress? Teapot, I am in your hands. I seek help in a matter that drains my very soul. Is there a timely solution to my conundrum? Or is it my fate to stare from my domain, awaiting a parcel, unrequited, bereft and without hope. Teapot, you are my last resort. I await your return missive with unrestrained expectation.

Cheers,

Flaxen of the Saxon   

*  Name changed to protect the innocent

Commentary Akimbo  

When it comes to the flora and fauna that I coexist with, I live by a single dictum: 'Kill nothing unless I have a reason'. Like most rules that govern our existence, self-imposed or imposed by a 'Higher Authority', they are not always followed without exception- caprice and expediency are the final arbiters of life. My wife looks on incredulously as I spend 15 minutes scooping 10 spiders from our ceramic bath and placing them on the wall in the hall; I like spiders. 

Dogge

Foo, Foo, How Much Rabbit Shit Would You Like For Your Lunch Today?

This post is about our furry companions, dogs. Personally, I'm a dog person and own three furry friends. I have a father-and-son pair of Maltese Terriers and a Maltese/Shitshu bitch. In this short post, I won't go into the evolution of the dog from the wolf or consider the genetic changes that ensured this transition. Today, I want to delve into the rarefied world of Etymology. This is not a topic that I have dealt with before, and I can truly assert I'm woefully ignorant of the subject in general.

Here Goes...

Interestingly, the derivation of the word 'Dog' is unknown. Usually, a word in any language can be traced through its common derivation from related languages. In English, we use another word for 'dog', although it is usually used in connection with specialised breeds. Hound is synonymous with 'dog', although in general usage it is reserved for hunting breeds. The word 'Hound' has a known etymology and is related to the German word 'Hund' and the Dutch word 'Hond'. 

The problem with the word 'Dog' is that it first appeared in writing during the Middle Ages, as 'Dogge'. There is no record of the word before this. This doesn't mean the word sprang fully formed from nowhere. Before it was written down, it must have been used linguistically for perhaps hundreds of years to describe that bag of fur sitting in front of the fire, gently farting. The word comes out of the linguistic void. There is no such word in related languages. From an etymological point of view, the word is an orphan. There is only one culture that uses the same word for 'dog,' and it is found in an indigenous Australian language (Mbabaram). Etymologically, there is no relationship between English and Mbabaram, and etymologists consider the usage of the same as a serendipitous coincidence.

There have been a number of theories proposed to explain why we use the word, but to my ears, none sound convincing. Unlike my usual renderings, this will be a brief post, so I won't be delving further into the various possibilities put forth. This is far better than saying: 'I can't be Arsed,' Arse. If your curiosity about the subject is insatiable/irresistible, then Google is your friend. 

Interestingly, there are other words in English that seem divorced from their linguistic origin and appear in print as if by 'Language Osmosis'. Where did they come from, and do you really care? The words 'Boy' and 'Girl' are also in this category, as are 'Hog' and 'Pig'. Mayhap, the same letter ending is a clue in this latter case. For those who may be interested, our English word 'Ferret' is derived from the Latin, 'Ferretus', which means 'Little Thief'. Anyone who has owned a ferret will understand. As an aside, my property is awash with rabbits. As I write, I can see five of the little buggers through my study window, happily munching on my lush green pasture. The grassy areas are awash, nay festooned with their small faecal pellets. My Maltese/Shitzu bitch has taken great delight in gobbling down this abundant, boundless, bunny bounty of manna on her forays unto the land. This is the same hound that will refuse the finest and most expensive kibble and, in the home environment, will only eat finely teased apart boiled chicken breast. A couple of ferrets and a good terrier would be mighty useful in these circumstances. Actually, rabbits are good eating. I have very fond memories of roast rabbit when I was a nipper. A very underestimated protein source, in my opinion.