DNA=Sum Total of Biological Information?

Reading this informative post on recent research into Tuatara genetics, I came across this startling claim:

The authors do not discuss the more fundamental question of how far DNA information is responsible for the form of organisms, or whether the form of organisms is determined by other information embodied in embryonic cells. This question is not being asked by Darwinists, who insist that all biological information must be traced back to the genome. However, some biologists (including those advocating Intelligent Design) are actively exploring alternatives.

I don't necessarily believe the part about Darwinists insisting that all biological information comes from the genome. To me, it's always been obvious that the cell contains a lot more information than just that found in DNA. To say other wise is tantamount to saying all the information needed to build a house can be found in the bill of materials. I find it hard to credit that evolutionists deny something so obvious.

Of course, when you tote up all the information in a cell outside the nucleus, it just moves the goalposts for abiogenesis that much further back.

A Blog Post for Jesus

When did adding "Jesus" to any phrase make it automatically risible and ridiculous? It's been coming on for a long time, but gradually, like a glacier. This morning, the glacier hit my house when I linked to Richard Dawkins' review of the pro-Intelligent Design movie Expelled. The howler monkeys* have crashed Dawkins' server in their enthusiasm, but its title is "Lying for Jesus." The "For Jesus" part, we understand, is to elicit a smirk before we dive into his dissection of the movie.**

There are lots of recent examples (Bong Hits for Jesus, Jesus Camp, etc., etc. - just go search for "Jesus" at dailykos). It's entered American culture so forcefully, that I realized this morning that I've heard Christians use the word "Jesus" in an ironic way.

* The name "howler monkeys" was proudly borne by pro-evolutionists on the old origins faq site. It was an apt description of their loud and incessant screeching.

** In his titanic rage and indignation at the mere existence of dissent from philosophical materialism, he picked up a chain saw rather than a scalpel, but this post does not concern his review.

Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Children's Illistrators

I put up a guru project invitation for a cover for my book (I'm going to be using lulu to print copies for friends, families, and the beta test*). So far, I have over forty proposals, and more come in every day. As a point of comparison, I regularly post programming and graphic arts projects, and I rarely get more than ten submissions. Even sadder for them is that an old friend has agreed to do the cover for me as a favor.

* I will be having a number of boys (and maybe some brave girls), most who don't know me, read the book and provide feedback.

Adulthood's End

Another part of my teen universe passes: Arthur C. Clarke dead at age 90. All you literary types would probably go for Childhood's End, but I liked Rendevous with Rama better. Star Wars fans, move along. Nothing to see here.

London City Mission

I've been reading a great fat work of serious history called Earthly Powers. The subtitle summarizes it well: "The clash of religion and politics in Europe, from the French Revolution tot he Great War." It's slow going for my plaque-encrusted brain, but edifying and enlightening. I picked it up because it promised to sketch the substitution of political for spiritual salvation, over the course of the 19th century.

It's all that, but I've learned a great deal more. One of the things I was only aware of by passing reference was the great Victorian charitable empires built in the second half of that century. I was amazed and inspired to discover more details of those gigantic endeavours. One of the greatest was the London City Mission, or LCM. Evangelicals founded it and send many hundreds of missionaries into London to minister in the slums. The hardships and dangers they faced rival those confronted by their colleagues who went overseas. I eagerly await this book to find out more.*

LCM still exists, and wonder of wonders, it survived the 20th century with its faith intact.

* It's endorsed by Keller, for all his fans out there!

The Sum of One's Purchases

One of the things that bemuses me about 21st century life in American is the extent to which people who most loudly lay claim to non-conformity, creativity, open-mindedness, and a rejection of crass materialism define their identity by the junk they buy, and who they buy it from. I laughed loudly and heartily* at the following quote from this great article:

…people who drive hybrid cars are 78% more likely than the general population to be highly creative….That is, they are inventive and imaginative and also tend to be emotionally sensitive and intellectually curious… They tend to be more open-minded, more spontaneous, and more assured of their ability to lead others, the Mindset Media found.

Just how much of people's junk is a not-so-subtle message to others: "I am a great and good person."?

* Laughing at odd things like this indicates either curmudgeonliness or incipient insanity. You choose.

The Bad War

George Orwell once said, "To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle." For some people that struggle is a life-long ordeal.

Take Nicholson Baker and credulous reviewer in the LA Times. Baker's new book Human Smoke purports to show that:

World War II was one of the biggest, most carefully plotted lies in modern history. According to the myth, British and American statesmen naively thought they could reason with such brutal fascists as Germany's Hitler and Japan's Tojo. Faced with this weakness, Hitler and Tojo tried to take over the world, and the United States and Britain were forced to use military might to stop them.

The facts are powerful. Baker shows, step by step, how an alliance dominated by leaders who were bigoted, far more opposed to communism than to fascism, obsessed with arms sales and itching for a fight coerced the world into war.

Where does one begin? With Germany's agression in Eastern Europe, telegraphed by Hitler 15 years in advance? Or maybe Japan's brutal war with China, which began in 1937*? It is so tedious to point out that Germany, Japan, and Italy were run by militaristic gangsters who were loud and proud about their plans to take over the world, or at least their neigborhoods of it. It has been documented ad nauseum and it was no secret then or since.

The Allies were flawed, both in individual leadership and as nations. Is that news to anyone? The war is inherently inhumane and the "good guys" didn't always wear white hats**. Is that some kind of revelation? But to say WWII was optional, and sitting it out was a morally acceptable alternative is nuts.

I'll take this opportunity of throwing my wild and crazy opinion on 20th century European history: I wish Germany had won World War I. Just think of all the bad things that would not have happened had von Moltke reached Paris in September 1914, like his uncle did in 1870. Of course, one might argue that you can never know the bad things that might have happened had Germany won, but since the 20th C. was pretty bad, it's hard to imagine it being worse.

*That's more than two full years before the conventional date for the start of World War II, for those of you who need reminding.

**For example, in my humble and not very important view, area bombing of cities was not morally justified.

Myth of the Lonely Creative Voice

I will be blogging more about this in the future, but the main reason I gave up blogging for a year and a half was to write a book for my children. After putting all that sweat into the thing, I thought I should at least make a half-hearted attempt to get it published.

On the recommendation of an old friend and published author Amy Timberlake (blog here, other useful stuff here), I purchased Children's, Writer's & Illustrator's Market. Splashed across the corner is a banner that proclaims "Over Half A Million Copies Sold." How encouraging.

A Fistful of Quarters

The King of Kong is the story of one man's long struggle to become the world champion Donkey Kong player. The filmmakers have created from this unlikely premise an astonishing documentary filled with quirky characters, dramatic suspense, unintentional hilarity (the best kind), and inspiration. At times you will be certain you're watching a Christopher Guest mockumentary. Some of the dialog is so good I was occaisionally suspicious that it was scripted.*

From the Wikipedia entry, it appears the villains of the piece dispute a few implications of the way the creators edited the film. This in no way detracts from what this team has accomplished. I highly recommend it.

* This is scene in a car in which the hero's daughter makes a comment so perspicacious and precocious that my fraud detection antennae shot up - but I have no factual basis to impune the filmmakers' integrity.

Two Americas

Compare and contrast two maps showing Starbucks per capita and Walmarts per capita.

No Bloody Masterpiece

My friend Scott Nehring has [finally] posted his review of There Will Be Blood. I still think I hated it more.

Dennett's Dangerous Device

I'm reading Breaking the Spell, Daniel Dennett's exploration of religion's evolutionary origins. In the middle of his baroque speculation, this sentence stopped my progress:

Put these two ideas together - a hyperactive agent-seeking bias and a weakness for certain sorts of memorable combos - and you get a kind of fiction-generation contraption.

Fiction-generation contraption! What a happy phrase. I wonder how many iterations of Dawkins' weasel would suffice to turn that sentence into a perfect description of Darwinism.

There Will Be Boredeom

I caught There Will be Blood last night with a couple of friends. I'm proud to say I hated it more than my movie-reviewing pal. It was deficient in plot, motivation, conflict, message, and purpose. But what it lacked in quality it more than made up for in quantity! One hundred fifty-eight minutes! I really hated the portentous (and pretentious) music that always, always built up to...nothing.

As for DD Lewis's oscar-winning performance, it was admirable, but his character was so opaque that I found it hard to be interested. The whole movie can be summed up in one of his lines: "I don't like to explain myself."

As an aside, Hollywood can't get revivalist-style preachers right. The pastor of "The Church of the Third Revelation" in this movie seemed to be reprising Robert Mitchum's phony performance in The Night of the Hunter.