This week, I will attend my (hopefully) final graduation. Sadly, I'll be attending many more graduation ceremonies, just not mine. Actually, I'll probably find those more enjoyable, since I will have taught some of them prior to graduating. Nevertheless, my disdain for these ceremonies is well-known and deeply felt.
However, I am compelled to attend, primarily out of being voluntold to by my dear mother. Happy Mother's Day. So I will attend, and smile for the camera, and perhaps earn my third volume of Severe Convective Storms. This time, I am promised a hooding, which I guess is supposed to tantalize me into attending the ceremony. "You only get hooded once!" O....k, but doesn't that just mean I only get a Ph.D. once, which is not necessarily true anyway?
Graduation day, for me, has always been about the other people, not the one graduating. Commonly, this sort of thing would irritate me, but not in this case. Graduation is a process of community. Ultimately, it falls on the individual, but there is no way that individual can graduate without the love and support of his mentors, peers, and family. Graduation SHOULD be about the other people. It is an accomplishment for those who have helped almost as much as the graduate himself!
To this end, I wish to thank those who have helped me along the way. I'm pretty sure I would not have made it without my fellow graduate students. Who else would I get to complain to about the little things, or even the big things? Who else would I eat my second plate of Pad Thai, or third plate of fajitas at Chelino's, or fourth plate of everything at Himalayas? Who else would understand my rants on RKW theory, or on irresponsible storm chasing, or the latest bureaucratic nonsense at the Intergalactic Weather Center?
The administrative assistants deserve all the credit in the world. I'm not sure how often Celia or Nancy or Marcia or Judy or Becky saved my metaphorical behind, but I'm relatively certain the equivalent number of tropical cyclones in a year would require usage of some Greek letters no one has heard of. Anyone graduating anywhere should shake hands with the school staff and say thank you. You would not have made it without them, even if you didn't know it.
Having mentors as wonderful as mine is not just a rarity, but an absolute privilege. There is no question that the quality of my advisors was instrumental in me getting to where I am. Lance, Mike, Chuck -- thanks for everything. In particular, for still putting up with me.
And to my family -- especially my dear mother. This one's for you.
So I will attend graduation, smile for the cameras, receive...something, and go on my merry way. I'll do this for you, because you've earned it. All of you.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The End's Not Near
This semester has just flown right by.
They all do, but as a first-semester professor, the tempo is more presto than allegro. I remember being nervous for my first lecture, and then being less nervous for my second lecture. Now, here I am, one semester down, and lectures just kind of roll off the tongue.
Needless to say, particularly from the students, it's been a bit of a rocky start. I'm learning by trial and a lot of error, but I'm getting the hang of some things. I know how to use the projector now. I know where the chalk is in one of my classrooms. I can and occasionally do remember to put notes and homework online. Still have a little trouble reading my board handwriting, but hey, at least my students can! No, no, they can't.
I can, however, say that I feel better about things than I did a couple of months ago. I could see students perking up a bit more by the end of the semester. Answers on homework and exams seemed more complete, and more earnest. This despite the ever-looming reminder that summer, and perhaps the real world, were waiting for many of them. That's a start, I guess.
As a student, I was a bit aloof to a professor's life. I knew there was lecture, and preparation for that lecture, and grading of homework, and maybe if there was time, the other thousand things that have to be done (primarily research). I remember feeling that the last thing I wanted to do was get in the professor's way. So I spent very little time taking advantage of office hours, or saying hello before or after class. I came in, sat down, opened a notebook, wrote down some notes, occasionally laughed annoyingly loud at a couple of jokes, and walked out.
I doubt this is universal, but as a professor, I sort of want the students to chat with me. Even if it's not school-related. Here all of these students come in to class and give you permission to riddle their ears with knowledge for 50 minutes without so much as a peep -- you start to wonder: "Who are these people? Why in the world are they listening to ME? What do these people do besides listening to me?" It turns out, they do many of the things I did while in college. Imagine that. But I can tell I was wrong as a student -- professors don't mind chatting with you. Many times, they enjoy the diversion. I sure do.
One student exclaimed during my first class that I looked so young. My response? "Think how it looks from my end." A 21-year-old telling a 28-year-old they look so young -- that's a new one.
Today was the first day that a student has shaken my hand. Hopefully not the last. That alone is enough incentive to give it another go. Maybe next time, I'll find the chalk before class starts.
They all do, but as a first-semester professor, the tempo is more presto than allegro. I remember being nervous for my first lecture, and then being less nervous for my second lecture. Now, here I am, one semester down, and lectures just kind of roll off the tongue.
Needless to say, particularly from the students, it's been a bit of a rocky start. I'm learning by trial and a lot of error, but I'm getting the hang of some things. I know how to use the projector now. I know where the chalk is in one of my classrooms. I can and occasionally do remember to put notes and homework online. Still have a little trouble reading my board handwriting, but hey, at least my students can! No, no, they can't.
I can, however, say that I feel better about things than I did a couple of months ago. I could see students perking up a bit more by the end of the semester. Answers on homework and exams seemed more complete, and more earnest. This despite the ever-looming reminder that summer, and perhaps the real world, were waiting for many of them. That's a start, I guess.
As a student, I was a bit aloof to a professor's life. I knew there was lecture, and preparation for that lecture, and grading of homework, and maybe if there was time, the other thousand things that have to be done (primarily research). I remember feeling that the last thing I wanted to do was get in the professor's way. So I spent very little time taking advantage of office hours, or saying hello before or after class. I came in, sat down, opened a notebook, wrote down some notes, occasionally laughed annoyingly loud at a couple of jokes, and walked out.
I doubt this is universal, but as a professor, I sort of want the students to chat with me. Even if it's not school-related. Here all of these students come in to class and give you permission to riddle their ears with knowledge for 50 minutes without so much as a peep -- you start to wonder: "Who are these people? Why in the world are they listening to ME? What do these people do besides listening to me?" It turns out, they do many of the things I did while in college. Imagine that. But I can tell I was wrong as a student -- professors don't mind chatting with you. Many times, they enjoy the diversion. I sure do.
One student exclaimed during my first class that I looked so young. My response? "Think how it looks from my end." A 21-year-old telling a 28-year-old they look so young -- that's a new one.
Today was the first day that a student has shaken my hand. Hopefully not the last. That alone is enough incentive to give it another go. Maybe next time, I'll find the chalk before class starts.
Monday, May 2, 2011
24 Hours Later
War is hell.
When I first heard the news last night, I wasn't happy. I wasn't sad. I wasn't really feeling anything.
Osama bin Laden was dead, and I didn't feel anything. It didn't seem right. I was listening to people outside of my apartment singing "God Bless America" in a complete daze. Everything seemed surreal (overused word, but nonetheless). I heard people say "Fuck Obama!" and "USA! USA!" in response. (Please note: Received two comments already: No, that is not a typo.) There are two American flags on balconies today that were not there yesterday.
No one really talked about it at work today. It was brought up, but more of a "I can't believe it" than a "We did it!" sort of way.
I still don't feel anything. Not one damn thing.
I knew somebody who died on September 11. I was a "good acquaintance", at best, but it is fair to say that the attacks that day affected me personally. Indeed, they led me to a very dark time in my life, but that's a story only a small number of people know and should know. I have recovered from that dark time, and I am a better man for it.
But I'm not feeling anything ... anything.
I listened to a few "Here's what I was doing when..." stories last night, with a maelstrom of tears and beer. What was meant to be a celebration quickly turned into a group of people drowning their sorrows in alcohol, the only elixir they could find. I know the temptation all too well.
People were shooting off fireworks, wrapped in flags, bouncing beach balls, and cheering wildly in the streets throughout the country last night. Many have used the sports metaphors. Others have compared our reaction to that of some of the Palestinians after 9/11. Me? Well, I see it as a parade after a war being over. The parade is full of pride, excitement, relief, and sorrow. And tomorrow, there will be leftover confetti on the streets, a couple of people in jail, and a rising sun. All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.
War is a human construct and an eternal reality. Conflict is in our nature. We are animals, savage beasts with brains capable of recognizing this fact. Sometimes we are capable of transcending this fact. Most of the time, we change the scoreboard.
Osama bin Laden is dead. One less evil person in the world. A stain on our collective history, yet one casualty of war. But this war has lived longer than we have, and will outlive all of us. We don't live in "interesting times" or at the cusp of some new, unforeseen future. We're metaphorical hamsters.
Some are preaching us to be joyless, some are claiming we are no better than the other side, some have found closure in whatever way they can find it.
I feel nothing. I'm too busy running on a treadmill.
When I first heard the news last night, I wasn't happy. I wasn't sad. I wasn't really feeling anything.
Osama bin Laden was dead, and I didn't feel anything. It didn't seem right. I was listening to people outside of my apartment singing "God Bless America" in a complete daze. Everything seemed surreal (overused word, but nonetheless). I heard people say "Fuck Obama!" and "USA! USA!" in response. (Please note: Received two comments already: No, that is not a typo.) There are two American flags on balconies today that were not there yesterday.
No one really talked about it at work today. It was brought up, but more of a "I can't believe it" than a "We did it!" sort of way.
I still don't feel anything. Not one damn thing.
I knew somebody who died on September 11. I was a "good acquaintance", at best, but it is fair to say that the attacks that day affected me personally. Indeed, they led me to a very dark time in my life, but that's a story only a small number of people know and should know. I have recovered from that dark time, and I am a better man for it.
But I'm not feeling anything ... anything.
I listened to a few "Here's what I was doing when..." stories last night, with a maelstrom of tears and beer. What was meant to be a celebration quickly turned into a group of people drowning their sorrows in alcohol, the only elixir they could find. I know the temptation all too well.
People were shooting off fireworks, wrapped in flags, bouncing beach balls, and cheering wildly in the streets throughout the country last night. Many have used the sports metaphors. Others have compared our reaction to that of some of the Palestinians after 9/11. Me? Well, I see it as a parade after a war being over. The parade is full of pride, excitement, relief, and sorrow. And tomorrow, there will be leftover confetti on the streets, a couple of people in jail, and a rising sun. All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.
War is a human construct and an eternal reality. Conflict is in our nature. We are animals, savage beasts with brains capable of recognizing this fact. Sometimes we are capable of transcending this fact. Most of the time, we change the scoreboard.
Osama bin Laden is dead. One less evil person in the world. A stain on our collective history, yet one casualty of war. But this war has lived longer than we have, and will outlive all of us. We don't live in "interesting times" or at the cusp of some new, unforeseen future. We're metaphorical hamsters.
Some are preaching us to be joyless, some are claiming we are no better than the other side, some have found closure in whatever way they can find it.
I feel nothing. I'm too busy running on a treadmill.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Some Thoughts on 27 April 2011
One of the most significant tornado outbreaks of the modern era occurred on Wednesday in much of the East, particularly in Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and Tennessee. The number of fatalities has exceeded 300, with still hundreds unaccounted for. Such a tragically high number of deaths has sobered the meteorology community, particularly given the relatively excellent forecast of the event by today's standards.
My thoughts on the outbreak, in general, have been proffered by others. However, at the very least, they deserve repeating, as the last thing the meteorology community and the public can afford is a slow dwindling of the memory and a repression of the tragedy. Complacency is unacceptable, given the appalling number of fatalities from Wednesday's event.
Although it is obviously premature to propose the reasons (and their relative importance) behind the number of fatalities, it is fairly likely the reasons were in the communication arena rather than the meteorological. Many, if not most, of the tornadoes had substantial lead-times, given each storm's ease with which it produced tornadoes. The Storm Prediction Center (SPC) had heightened awareness of the event, even out to five days in advance, and by the 0600 UTC Day-1 convective outlook, had issued a high risk. Particularly dangerous situation (PDS) tornado watches soon followed, and NWS warnings were inundated with "heightened" text. News media were covering the event very well. So what went wrong?
I offer a few thoughts...
1) It is clear to me that antecedent convection played a role in one almost undeniable way and one potential way. First, much of northern Alabama was without power after early morning convection from a severe mesoscale convective system (MCS). The MCS produced substantial wind damage and even a few tornadoes that morning in the Tennessee Valley, contributing to widespread power outages in much of rural northern Alabama. Thus, there was little if any means of communication with many of those affected by the subsequent tornadic supercells. It is very likely that these power outages contributed to the loss of life totals, particularly in northern Alabama. The second way, I suspect, is that many people have the "one-and-done" philosophy with severe convection. Once severe thunderstorms affected northern Alabama that morning, I suspect there was reduced interest in impending weather and heightened interest in recovery. This may stem from preconceived notions that multiple rounds of severe weather are very uncommon within a 24-h period. I am somewhat unclear on how this possibility was conveyed to the public at large, but it was reasonably well forecast by the SPC and NWS offices in the affected regions -- nevertheless, the frequency with which multiple rounds of high-impact weather affects the same location in a 24-h period is possibly low enough to contribute to reduced awareness, particularly when there is limited means of increasing that awareness thanks to the power outages.
Because power outages almost undoubtedly contributed to loss of life in this event, we must find a means of conveying the necessary information to the public without the luxury of electricity. This potentially excludes (outdoor) sirens, which likely depend on available power. (More on sirens in a later blog post.) Cell service is potentially helpful, but given the potential for cell service to be disrupted and the questionable availability of cell service in particularly rural portions of the region, this is only one potential option. Note that NOAA weather radios can (and should) be battery powered, but these are not immune to power outages either, as the Huntsville NWS has discovered. Clearly, this should be a primary focus in the communication arena to prevent a repeat of this event.
2) It is downright irresponsible to claim that it is impossible to survive an EF4/EF5 tornado, given the imagery of the tornadoes affecting Smithville, MS; Tuscaloosa, AL; and Birmingham, AL. Although there is some evidence that entire housing was essentially completely destroyed and displaced from foundations, even with reasonably strong grounding, making this claim can lead to the unwise decision simply to refuse to take cover in subsequent scenarios. The "intervention of destiny" syndrome is NOT what the public should be led to believe when tornadoes occur. Although being underground may have been the only way to survive in exceedingly rare circumstances of these tornadoes, the public should be encouraged to take cover in the best way they possibly can.
On a side note, it is my belief that the best way to survive a tornado is to get out of its path. In this manner, this means driving in a direction perpendicular to the track of the tornado well in advance of the tornado's approach. As a meteorologist, this is relatively simple knowledge to obtain. It certainly could have led to a better result than the notorious Andover overpass incident, for example, which subsequently led to loss of life in the 3 May 1999 tornado outbreak. However, I worry when some bring up this prospect when urban areas are in the path of tornadoes. I suspect that mass panic may result, with a large number of drivers erratically and irresponsibly taking risks to avoid the tornado, which they may not know how to do anyway. The last place people want to be is in a traffic jam as the tornado approaches. I caution people who propose this idea, at least until more research on this potential shift in philosophy is conducted and completed.
3) It is time to increase research regarding increased population and potential impacts from tornadoes. As most in the severe weather community are aware, nonmeteorological artifacts inundate the severe weather reports archive. A relatively untested artifact is the magnitude and trend of population density -- would this tornado outbreak have resulted in such substantial loss of life in the Great Plains, or if the tornadoes were displaced x number of miles north/south of their actual tracks? Such research can provide insight on the uncertainty regarding the overall impacts from a meteorologically significant severe weather outbreak (or other type of hazard, such as a hurricane or winter storm), and also may provide an improved means of comparing this event to those of the past (e.g., 3 April 1974).
4) Although there is some statistical evidence that there is at least locational dependence of major tornado days to ENSO, it is scientifically (and certainly statistically) questionable to associate individual severe weather outbreaks, and even collective significant severe weather outbreaks, to this weather-climate phenomenon. The sample size of the outbreaks is too small, and their dependence on so many other variables, some of which we still are not completely aware of, too great to make such a daring conclusion. My thoughts, then, on associations with global climate change should go without saying (and thus, will go without saying).
5) It is absolutely imperative that the meteorology and social science community make a considerable effort to identify the breakdowns that led to the calamitous casualty count, and propose solutions to these breakdowns. There is no excuse! It is our responsibility as scientists and as forecasters. Increased effort to research, rather than speculate, on these causes is of utmost importance. Tornado outbreaks of this magnitude will happen again, and if current trends continue, even more people may be affected in the future. Although loss of life in these types of events is virtually certain, we can and must do more to ensure that we can limit, if not completely eradicate, that number.
Such effort includes breaking down and solving the inherent complexities of such interdisciplinary research, eliminating science-vs.-social science nonsense, and refusing to fall into the trap of assuming we know the answers without actually identifying them scientifically. Our attempts to bridge these gaps so far have not been adequate. We can and must do more.
Although the science questions of this case are plentiful (e.g., what processes on the mesoscale occur to promote nearly universal development of tornadoes with supercells on days like 27 April versus a much smaller ratio on others, what antecedent environments appear to exist with tornado outbreaks and are these environments relatively few and predictable, etc.), the social science aspects appear to be just as important, if not more so. The tragic events of 27 April 2011 should be a call to arms in the severe weather community!
My thoughts on the outbreak, in general, have been proffered by others. However, at the very least, they deserve repeating, as the last thing the meteorology community and the public can afford is a slow dwindling of the memory and a repression of the tragedy. Complacency is unacceptable, given the appalling number of fatalities from Wednesday's event.
Although it is obviously premature to propose the reasons (and their relative importance) behind the number of fatalities, it is fairly likely the reasons were in the communication arena rather than the meteorological. Many, if not most, of the tornadoes had substantial lead-times, given each storm's ease with which it produced tornadoes. The Storm Prediction Center (SPC) had heightened awareness of the event, even out to five days in advance, and by the 0600 UTC Day-1 convective outlook, had issued a high risk. Particularly dangerous situation (PDS) tornado watches soon followed, and NWS warnings were inundated with "heightened" text. News media were covering the event very well. So what went wrong?
I offer a few thoughts...
1) It is clear to me that antecedent convection played a role in one almost undeniable way and one potential way. First, much of northern Alabama was without power after early morning convection from a severe mesoscale convective system (MCS). The MCS produced substantial wind damage and even a few tornadoes that morning in the Tennessee Valley, contributing to widespread power outages in much of rural northern Alabama. Thus, there was little if any means of communication with many of those affected by the subsequent tornadic supercells. It is very likely that these power outages contributed to the loss of life totals, particularly in northern Alabama. The second way, I suspect, is that many people have the "one-and-done" philosophy with severe convection. Once severe thunderstorms affected northern Alabama that morning, I suspect there was reduced interest in impending weather and heightened interest in recovery. This may stem from preconceived notions that multiple rounds of severe weather are very uncommon within a 24-h period. I am somewhat unclear on how this possibility was conveyed to the public at large, but it was reasonably well forecast by the SPC and NWS offices in the affected regions -- nevertheless, the frequency with which multiple rounds of high-impact weather affects the same location in a 24-h period is possibly low enough to contribute to reduced awareness, particularly when there is limited means of increasing that awareness thanks to the power outages.
Because power outages almost undoubtedly contributed to loss of life in this event, we must find a means of conveying the necessary information to the public without the luxury of electricity. This potentially excludes (outdoor) sirens, which likely depend on available power. (More on sirens in a later blog post.) Cell service is potentially helpful, but given the potential for cell service to be disrupted and the questionable availability of cell service in particularly rural portions of the region, this is only one potential option. Note that NOAA weather radios can (and should) be battery powered, but these are not immune to power outages either, as the Huntsville NWS has discovered. Clearly, this should be a primary focus in the communication arena to prevent a repeat of this event.
2) It is downright irresponsible to claim that it is impossible to survive an EF4/EF5 tornado, given the imagery of the tornadoes affecting Smithville, MS; Tuscaloosa, AL; and Birmingham, AL. Although there is some evidence that entire housing was essentially completely destroyed and displaced from foundations, even with reasonably strong grounding, making this claim can lead to the unwise decision simply to refuse to take cover in subsequent scenarios. The "intervention of destiny" syndrome is NOT what the public should be led to believe when tornadoes occur. Although being underground may have been the only way to survive in exceedingly rare circumstances of these tornadoes, the public should be encouraged to take cover in the best way they possibly can.
On a side note, it is my belief that the best way to survive a tornado is to get out of its path. In this manner, this means driving in a direction perpendicular to the track of the tornado well in advance of the tornado's approach. As a meteorologist, this is relatively simple knowledge to obtain. It certainly could have led to a better result than the notorious Andover overpass incident, for example, which subsequently led to loss of life in the 3 May 1999 tornado outbreak. However, I worry when some bring up this prospect when urban areas are in the path of tornadoes. I suspect that mass panic may result, with a large number of drivers erratically and irresponsibly taking risks to avoid the tornado, which they may not know how to do anyway. The last place people want to be is in a traffic jam as the tornado approaches. I caution people who propose this idea, at least until more research on this potential shift in philosophy is conducted and completed.
3) It is time to increase research regarding increased population and potential impacts from tornadoes. As most in the severe weather community are aware, nonmeteorological artifacts inundate the severe weather reports archive. A relatively untested artifact is the magnitude and trend of population density -- would this tornado outbreak have resulted in such substantial loss of life in the Great Plains, or if the tornadoes were displaced x number of miles north/south of their actual tracks? Such research can provide insight on the uncertainty regarding the overall impacts from a meteorologically significant severe weather outbreak (or other type of hazard, such as a hurricane or winter storm), and also may provide an improved means of comparing this event to those of the past (e.g., 3 April 1974).
4) Although there is some statistical evidence that there is at least locational dependence of major tornado days to ENSO, it is scientifically (and certainly statistically) questionable to associate individual severe weather outbreaks, and even collective significant severe weather outbreaks, to this weather-climate phenomenon. The sample size of the outbreaks is too small, and their dependence on so many other variables, some of which we still are not completely aware of, too great to make such a daring conclusion. My thoughts, then, on associations with global climate change should go without saying (and thus, will go without saying).
5) It is absolutely imperative that the meteorology and social science community make a considerable effort to identify the breakdowns that led to the calamitous casualty count, and propose solutions to these breakdowns. There is no excuse! It is our responsibility as scientists and as forecasters. Increased effort to research, rather than speculate, on these causes is of utmost importance. Tornado outbreaks of this magnitude will happen again, and if current trends continue, even more people may be affected in the future. Although loss of life in these types of events is virtually certain, we can and must do more to ensure that we can limit, if not completely eradicate, that number.
Such effort includes breaking down and solving the inherent complexities of such interdisciplinary research, eliminating science-vs.-social science nonsense, and refusing to fall into the trap of assuming we know the answers without actually identifying them scientifically. Our attempts to bridge these gaps so far have not been adequate. We can and must do more.
Although the science questions of this case are plentiful (e.g., what processes on the mesoscale occur to promote nearly universal development of tornadoes with supercells on days like 27 April versus a much smaller ratio on others, what antecedent environments appear to exist with tornado outbreaks and are these environments relatively few and predictable, etc.), the social science aspects appear to be just as important, if not more so. The tragic events of 27 April 2011 should be a call to arms in the severe weather community!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Weather Or Not
During last weekend's three-day outbreak of severe storms, it became clear to me that there are some aspects of meteorology that are becoming bloodsport. As the reports of tornadoes kept coming in, many of them duplicates or updates of initial reports, the tornado count was climbing like the "ka-chings" of a cash register during rush. Reports of "catastrophic damage" and EF5s, "violent" tornadoes, and debris balls on radar filled my Facebook feed like termites in a crumbling wall.
I love severe weather, but not at all because it tends to destroy things. The thing is, I'm not sure everyone else feels the same way anymore. Should I take the exclamation points in a status update to mean alarm or rapture? I fear it is the latter.
The beauty of deep moist convection is in the visual grandeur, and the physics. The collateral damage is our, at times, perilous existence. Severe weather can destroy lives, even end them. So seeing a radar screen of supercells with "chaser convergence" surrounding these things like vultures observing the latest kill leaves me in a morally ambiguous zone.
I understand that most people who chase storms do it because they appreciate the beauty behind these storms. I admire that feeling, and share it. But now, I believe, this admiration coexists with something else. Adventurers waiting for their next dollar. Receiving money for the latest tornado video, which shows somebody losing everything because of it, is an ethical quagmire to me. Broadcast companies extend their hands full of stash at the nearest sign of a rocky clip of debris spinning around. Something doesn't sit well with me given this reality.
I have mentioned many times my ethical dilemma with storm chasing. I have already vowed never to chase on high risk days again, after the calamitous rural traffic jam on 19 May 2010 in central Oklahoma. And I continue to see these drool-laden clips of revelatory excitement from destructive tornadoes, again and again and again. I just don't know anymore. I love the science behind tornadoes, and they do look quite beautiful. But I see a big downside to them, and I can't help but feel ... well, conflicted by the latest brouhaha on YouTube showing shaky video of a house lifted off its foundation. Enough already.
---
With the "miracle" of social networking, meteorologists have, more and more, warned others of impending danger via Facebook/Twitter, etc. I don't know why, but I find this trend increasingly annoying.
For one thing, it seems concerning to me that people would be on Facebook during a tornado warning. I would hope they were not online at all, but rather in a place of safety. Of course, it is naive of me to expect everyone to be doing this, but then again, my fear is that people will come to depend on Facebook during times like these, when I think their interests should be elsewhere (online or off).
The other thing that bothers me about it is that there seems to be a lot of overwarning going on. Alerting people that they are in a tornado watch/warning is fine, but exaggerating the risk seems doomed for the "cry wolf" syndrome. Seeing someone say a tornado watch is in effect, followed by "city X" is in "grave danger" during the next few hours is ... well ... a bold statement. And I'm not sure people will take it too seriously if they receive no such grave danger.
Then there are the "five-minute" updates of warnings, followed by "take shelter, take shelter"! If the warned people haven't taken shelter by your third of fourth update of the storm, Darwin is stirring.
---
I've mentioned this before, but please, for the love of "God", refrain from the default, robotic, meritless statement proclaiming "prayers to the victims of the tornadoes" after showing video, radar data, etc. of your adventures enjoying them. It screams hypocrisy, and I find it simply deplorable. I am sure many if not most of you mean the words, but they sound as hollow as their actual worth. First, virtually no one affected by the tornadoes will see/hear your prayers on Facebook/YouTube. The very people you offer them to won't even be aware of them. Secondly, they do NOTHING, and I mean that in every sense of the word ... NOTHING ... toward actually helping them. Instead of offering your prayers, donate some money/time to volunteer groups, the Red Cross, etc. Do something meaningful.
I love severe weather, but not at all because it tends to destroy things. The thing is, I'm not sure everyone else feels the same way anymore. Should I take the exclamation points in a status update to mean alarm or rapture? I fear it is the latter.
The beauty of deep moist convection is in the visual grandeur, and the physics. The collateral damage is our, at times, perilous existence. Severe weather can destroy lives, even end them. So seeing a radar screen of supercells with "chaser convergence" surrounding these things like vultures observing the latest kill leaves me in a morally ambiguous zone.
I understand that most people who chase storms do it because they appreciate the beauty behind these storms. I admire that feeling, and share it. But now, I believe, this admiration coexists with something else. Adventurers waiting for their next dollar. Receiving money for the latest tornado video, which shows somebody losing everything because of it, is an ethical quagmire to me. Broadcast companies extend their hands full of stash at the nearest sign of a rocky clip of debris spinning around. Something doesn't sit well with me given this reality.
I have mentioned many times my ethical dilemma with storm chasing. I have already vowed never to chase on high risk days again, after the calamitous rural traffic jam on 19 May 2010 in central Oklahoma. And I continue to see these drool-laden clips of revelatory excitement from destructive tornadoes, again and again and again. I just don't know anymore. I love the science behind tornadoes, and they do look quite beautiful. But I see a big downside to them, and I can't help but feel ... well, conflicted by the latest brouhaha on YouTube showing shaky video of a house lifted off its foundation. Enough already.
---
With the "miracle" of social networking, meteorologists have, more and more, warned others of impending danger via Facebook/Twitter, etc. I don't know why, but I find this trend increasingly annoying.
For one thing, it seems concerning to me that people would be on Facebook during a tornado warning. I would hope they were not online at all, but rather in a place of safety. Of course, it is naive of me to expect everyone to be doing this, but then again, my fear is that people will come to depend on Facebook during times like these, when I think their interests should be elsewhere (online or off).
The other thing that bothers me about it is that there seems to be a lot of overwarning going on. Alerting people that they are in a tornado watch/warning is fine, but exaggerating the risk seems doomed for the "cry wolf" syndrome. Seeing someone say a tornado watch is in effect, followed by "city X" is in "grave danger" during the next few hours is ... well ... a bold statement. And I'm not sure people will take it too seriously if they receive no such grave danger.
Then there are the "five-minute" updates of warnings, followed by "take shelter, take shelter"! If the warned people haven't taken shelter by your third of fourth update of the storm, Darwin is stirring.
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I've mentioned this before, but please, for the love of "God", refrain from the default, robotic, meritless statement proclaiming "prayers to the victims of the tornadoes" after showing video, radar data, etc. of your adventures enjoying them. It screams hypocrisy, and I find it simply deplorable. I am sure many if not most of you mean the words, but they sound as hollow as their actual worth. First, virtually no one affected by the tornadoes will see/hear your prayers on Facebook/YouTube. The very people you offer them to won't even be aware of them. Secondly, they do NOTHING, and I mean that in every sense of the word ... NOTHING ... toward actually helping them. Instead of offering your prayers, donate some money/time to volunteer groups, the Red Cross, etc. Do something meaningful.
Monday, April 18, 2011
On vegetarian fundamentalism
I made a mistake today, a very big mistake. I was browsing the interwebs in between meetings, and I stumbled into an interview Anthony Bourdain had a few years ago on his book, The Nasty Bits, in which he explained his distaste for vegans. I then stumbled into articles written by a sample of those vegans, probably unrepresentative of the population, but enough to prompt me to write a blog sharing my distaste -- not for vegans, but for what has been colloquially termed "vegetarian fundamentalism".
In my mind, vegetarian fundamentalism has traits like many of the religious fundamentalist counterparts. Fundamentalism is, for one thing, blatantly and intentionally controversial. It provokes "us against them" mentality, often supported in the believers' minds by anecdotal "evidence" or blind doctrines of, at best, questionable validity. Fundamentalists also are advertisers, if not propagandists, seeking fear in the "nonbelievers" by exaggerating or completely fabricating "evidence" in support of the philosophy/lifestyle.
Anthony Bourdain has called vegetarianism, particularly the vegan sects, "rude". He frequently gives an example of an impoverished family who grows food and offers you the one animal they have available on a particular day. A vegetarian would turn it down, saying "No, thanks". "It's antihuman. It's antisocial," he says in this interview.
He's right.
But he alludes to a far better point about one of the main sources of "evidence" that vegetarian fundamentalists use in their propaganda campaigns: They do not take into account the peoples who simply do not have the luxury of deciding meat or plants for dinner. Bourdain hosted an episode from Namibia, in which a nomadic tribe hunt for their survival. They live, and die, by the day's hunt. With Bourdain as a guest, they were lovingly offered wart hog, an animal many if not most Americans would sneer at. But I ask you: Would you turn down food offered by someone who could very well die if they can't find the next meal? If so, you are, in Bourdain's words, "rude". And you are. And you are completely unaware of the world around you.
Those who claim that meat-eating humans are contributing to global warming are certainly onto something. Plenty of studies exist showing that fossil fuel usage for a certain amount of protein is much higher than an equal portion of plant-derived protein. Of course, the problem with this argument is that converting from this animal-growing to pure plant-growing world is simply impractical. Because plant-growing is certainly climate-dependent, what are the farmers going to do in the High Plains if the plants they would need to grow can't grow there? What if the plant-growing they convert to is not sustainable, or profitable?
This argument, yet again, ignores the impoverished people of the world, who simply have no choice but to eat what they can grow/raise for themselves. It's naive.
My two favorite arguments with vegetarian fundamentalists are the animal's right not to be eaten, and the "we will die if we eat meat..." claims. An animal has a right not to be eaten. Uh, huh. Certainly that is supported by the wealth of predators forgoing eating prey in the unspoken number of years this planet has existed. Do you think a cow will survive in the wild if there's a coyote around? Will a bear pass the next salmon stream? This argument is so absurdly funny, that I cannot even believe it has metastasized. Animal cruelty is one thing, but let's get one thing straight: any death of an animal by another animal is inherently an ugly, painful, cruel way to die. It is also fundamentally natural.
Now torturous deaths of animals for food, in which some strange version of pleasure is derived from the pain the prey has before its death, is certainly abhorrent and completely indefensible. But even a quick, relatively painless death, is still by nature savage. But there is no dignity in death, ever.
The more problematic argument is that people who eat meat are destined for an early grave. That argument is, simply, an exaggeration -- a simplification. In the statistical sense, there certainly is evidence of this -- or, perhaps better worded, there is statistical evidence that suggests that vegetarians, on average, live longer than omnivores. However, the findings are quite variable and not overly convincing. Some studies show a life span increase of up to a decade, whereas others show 1-3 years. Study after study, website after website, show rather conflicting data, which suggests inherent uncertainty. Many of these studies also do not consider a cornucopia of ethnic groups, or citizens of multiple countries/continents. There are also various uncertainties associated with these studies, including underlying tendencies to use alcohol/drugs/tobacco, inherent knowledge of nutrition/health, etc. Although I believe it is certainly reasonable to conclude that vegetarians/vegans may live longer in a statistical sense, I wonder if there are correlations with other variables, including exercise, habits, religious practices, social interactions, geography, climate, etc. Given the underlying uncertainty associated with these studies, it appears this topic deserves further scrutiny.
Thus, claiming that people shouldn't eat meat because it will kill you sooner -- is just naive. Individually speaking, it's fear-mongering. A particular individual's susceptibility to premature death via meat craving is not clear-cut.
I don't have a problem with a person's choice of being vegetarian/vegan. I whole-heartedly support it, actually. I do have a problem with the propaganda campaign, though. Spouting moral superiority is just nonsensical, incredibly insulting to the people who could very well perish without their next kill, and ignorant of the world around you. People are starving all around the world, so scaring people into ridding people of steak knives seems misplaced to me. In many ways, I wish people were as passionate -- more passionate -- about preventing human cruelty versus animal cruelty.
I wonder if, given some worldwide calamity -- what would a vegetarian do if the only means of food around him/her was an animal? Would that person choose suicide? If so, his/her beliefs are rock solid, but the natural world will have the final say. Darwin would not be on that person's side.
In my mind, vegetarian fundamentalism has traits like many of the religious fundamentalist counterparts. Fundamentalism is, for one thing, blatantly and intentionally controversial. It provokes "us against them" mentality, often supported in the believers' minds by anecdotal "evidence" or blind doctrines of, at best, questionable validity. Fundamentalists also are advertisers, if not propagandists, seeking fear in the "nonbelievers" by exaggerating or completely fabricating "evidence" in support of the philosophy/lifestyle.
Anthony Bourdain has called vegetarianism, particularly the vegan sects, "rude". He frequently gives an example of an impoverished family who grows food and offers you the one animal they have available on a particular day. A vegetarian would turn it down, saying "No, thanks". "It's antihuman. It's antisocial," he says in this interview.
He's right.
But he alludes to a far better point about one of the main sources of "evidence" that vegetarian fundamentalists use in their propaganda campaigns: They do not take into account the peoples who simply do not have the luxury of deciding meat or plants for dinner. Bourdain hosted an episode from Namibia, in which a nomadic tribe hunt for their survival. They live, and die, by the day's hunt. With Bourdain as a guest, they were lovingly offered wart hog, an animal many if not most Americans would sneer at. But I ask you: Would you turn down food offered by someone who could very well die if they can't find the next meal? If so, you are, in Bourdain's words, "rude". And you are. And you are completely unaware of the world around you.
Those who claim that meat-eating humans are contributing to global warming are certainly onto something. Plenty of studies exist showing that fossil fuel usage for a certain amount of protein is much higher than an equal portion of plant-derived protein. Of course, the problem with this argument is that converting from this animal-growing to pure plant-growing world is simply impractical. Because plant-growing is certainly climate-dependent, what are the farmers going to do in the High Plains if the plants they would need to grow can't grow there? What if the plant-growing they convert to is not sustainable, or profitable?
This argument, yet again, ignores the impoverished people of the world, who simply have no choice but to eat what they can grow/raise for themselves. It's naive.
My two favorite arguments with vegetarian fundamentalists are the animal's right not to be eaten, and the "we will die if we eat meat..." claims. An animal has a right not to be eaten. Uh, huh. Certainly that is supported by the wealth of predators forgoing eating prey in the unspoken number of years this planet has existed. Do you think a cow will survive in the wild if there's a coyote around? Will a bear pass the next salmon stream? This argument is so absurdly funny, that I cannot even believe it has metastasized. Animal cruelty is one thing, but let's get one thing straight: any death of an animal by another animal is inherently an ugly, painful, cruel way to die. It is also fundamentally natural.
Now torturous deaths of animals for food, in which some strange version of pleasure is derived from the pain the prey has before its death, is certainly abhorrent and completely indefensible. But even a quick, relatively painless death, is still by nature savage. But there is no dignity in death, ever.
The more problematic argument is that people who eat meat are destined for an early grave. That argument is, simply, an exaggeration -- a simplification. In the statistical sense, there certainly is evidence of this -- or, perhaps better worded, there is statistical evidence that suggests that vegetarians, on average, live longer than omnivores. However, the findings are quite variable and not overly convincing. Some studies show a life span increase of up to a decade, whereas others show 1-3 years. Study after study, website after website, show rather conflicting data, which suggests inherent uncertainty. Many of these studies also do not consider a cornucopia of ethnic groups, or citizens of multiple countries/continents. There are also various uncertainties associated with these studies, including underlying tendencies to use alcohol/drugs/tobacco, inherent knowledge of nutrition/health, etc. Although I believe it is certainly reasonable to conclude that vegetarians/vegans may live longer in a statistical sense, I wonder if there are correlations with other variables, including exercise, habits, religious practices, social interactions, geography, climate, etc. Given the underlying uncertainty associated with these studies, it appears this topic deserves further scrutiny.
Thus, claiming that people shouldn't eat meat because it will kill you sooner -- is just naive. Individually speaking, it's fear-mongering. A particular individual's susceptibility to premature death via meat craving is not clear-cut.
I don't have a problem with a person's choice of being vegetarian/vegan. I whole-heartedly support it, actually. I do have a problem with the propaganda campaign, though. Spouting moral superiority is just nonsensical, incredibly insulting to the people who could very well perish without their next kill, and ignorant of the world around you. People are starving all around the world, so scaring people into ridding people of steak knives seems misplaced to me. In many ways, I wish people were as passionate -- more passionate -- about preventing human cruelty versus animal cruelty.
I wonder if, given some worldwide calamity -- what would a vegetarian do if the only means of food around him/her was an animal? Would that person choose suicide? If so, his/her beliefs are rock solid, but the natural world will have the final say. Darwin would not be on that person's side.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Our Endless Numbered Days
It's been a rough week, as a dear friend of my mother's finally succumbed to melanoma, and several people close to me are going through some very difficult times. Typically, during periods like this, I tend to write a lot, and somewhat strangely, that means I've been pretty productive at work. I've also dabbled with a screenplay I've been messing with for a number of years now. Unfortunately, I tend to mess with it during a period of melancholy. This is a problem, since I want to make the screenplay "lighter" than it currently is. It also needs to be a little longer than it is; otherwise it will play like a TV episode.
I also write somber blogs, of which this will be another.
Death is a part of life, and our tendency (rightfully) is not to like this part of life. The unfortunate thing about death is that it makes life meaningful; otherwise, living as a construct or an "activity", if you will, would be irrelevant. I've never bought the comfort of eternity; in fact, I sort of abhor the idea. An eternity of living, thinking, reacting, doing seems destined for torture. Boredom is an inevitable outcome of something that lasts forever. Even our planet will die. Its life will be much longer than yours or mine, but the fact that our planet will at some point far in the future no longer be a planet gives me a strange comfort.
This may seem strange to most people, but I find the opposite feeling stranger. Stagnancy is often received poorly. Droughts, monotone lecturers, and dynasties in sports are often ridiculed by the majority of people. (How do you like that for three wildly different examples?) With time, people tire of what always remains the same. The sheer fact that our sky is blue for our entire existence may seem to be a counterexample, but remember, we have cloudy days too. The fact that our lives, and our habitat, are dynamic gives me great joy. For the alternative is the ultimate in tedium.
I do wish my life were longer, but I certainly don't wish for it to be eternal. I am grateful for the time I have, and hope that I make the most of it. There are constant reminders I need to do so, like when a family friend passes after a brutal disease. The fragility of our existence cannot be overstated. The deaths of others, even the predictable ones, are constant reminders of our perilous existence. And it seems that with age, these reminders become more and more profound. Partly from experience, partly from the increasing realization that my own death is only approaching, never receding.
You only get one shot at this. For some, that chance is nothing more than a snapshot. For others, it is a mercifully wonderful opportunity. Its randomness, its unflinching objectivity, its cold iron fist is instructive. We can adapt to it, or succumb to it. One thing we cannot do is escape it. Our exit from it is always the same. The looming oblivion is a reminder to look in the mirror once in a while, nod silently -- maybe with a smile -- and give yourself a little extra push to make the most of your chance.
I also write somber blogs, of which this will be another.
Death is a part of life, and our tendency (rightfully) is not to like this part of life. The unfortunate thing about death is that it makes life meaningful; otherwise, living as a construct or an "activity", if you will, would be irrelevant. I've never bought the comfort of eternity; in fact, I sort of abhor the idea. An eternity of living, thinking, reacting, doing seems destined for torture. Boredom is an inevitable outcome of something that lasts forever. Even our planet will die. Its life will be much longer than yours or mine, but the fact that our planet will at some point far in the future no longer be a planet gives me a strange comfort.
This may seem strange to most people, but I find the opposite feeling stranger. Stagnancy is often received poorly. Droughts, monotone lecturers, and dynasties in sports are often ridiculed by the majority of people. (How do you like that for three wildly different examples?) With time, people tire of what always remains the same. The sheer fact that our sky is blue for our entire existence may seem to be a counterexample, but remember, we have cloudy days too. The fact that our lives, and our habitat, are dynamic gives me great joy. For the alternative is the ultimate in tedium.
I do wish my life were longer, but I certainly don't wish for it to be eternal. I am grateful for the time I have, and hope that I make the most of it. There are constant reminders I need to do so, like when a family friend passes after a brutal disease. The fragility of our existence cannot be overstated. The deaths of others, even the predictable ones, are constant reminders of our perilous existence. And it seems that with age, these reminders become more and more profound. Partly from experience, partly from the increasing realization that my own death is only approaching, never receding.
You only get one shot at this. For some, that chance is nothing more than a snapshot. For others, it is a mercifully wonderful opportunity. Its randomness, its unflinching objectivity, its cold iron fist is instructive. We can adapt to it, or succumb to it. One thing we cannot do is escape it. Our exit from it is always the same. The looming oblivion is a reminder to look in the mirror once in a while, nod silently -- maybe with a smile -- and give yourself a little extra push to make the most of your chance.
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