Damn Interesting » The Sheep Incident

VX was a triumph among the biological warfare community. Odorless and tasteless, it’s three times as toxic as Sarin. In initial trials, this over-achieving compound was also found to be highly stable, enabling long shelf life and environmental persistence. VX works by blocking chemicals in the victim’s body from functioning. It prevents the enzyme acetylcholinesterase from allowing muscles to relax, resulting in the contraction of every muscle in the body. Exposure to a minute or diluted dose of VX will cause muscle twitching, drooling, excessive sweating, and involuntary defecation, among other unpleasantries. Exposure to a lethal dose — about ten milligrams — will cause convulsions, paralysis, and eventually asphyxiation due to sustained contraction of the diaphragm muscle. Unless the affected skin is cleaned and an antidote is administered immediately, a single drop of liquid VX will kill a person in around ten minutes.

On March 13th [1968], Dugway ran a series of three tests using VX. The tests were routine, like any of the thousands of weapons tests that were conducted there over the previous twenty years. In the first test, an artillery shell packed with VX was fired onto the range; and in the second, 160 gallons of the compound were burned in an open pit. Both tests were completed without incident. The third test involved delivery via airplane, with over a ton of a special VX mixture sprayed over the desert. Unbeknownst to the pilot, the spray nozzle that controlled the flow of the chemical had broken. As he climbed to a higher altitude, the chemical continued to seep from the plane. Winds that day were blowing between 5-20 mph, with gusts reaching 35 mph. These strong easterly winds carried the VX straight to Skull Valley. The next day, the sheep grazing in the area began to die, and within days thousands of them had perished. The government and local numbers differ, but anywhere between 3,483 and 6,400 sheep died in the aftermath of the test.

Skull Valley resident Ray Peck was working in his yard the evening after the tests, but retired early after developing an earache. The next morning the ground outside his home was littered with dead birds, and he watched as a dying rabbit struggled in the distance. A helicopter touched down soon after and unleashed its cargo of equipment and scientists upon the confused family. They quickly collected wildlife carcasses, performed blood tests on the Pecks, and departed … [read it all]

Damn Interesting » The Sheep Incident

It may not have been the first, but Vanguard I does have the distinction of being the oldest satellite still in orbit, and it’s now set to mark its 50th anniversary on March 17th. It can lay claim to being the the very first solar-powered satellite, however, and it has no shortage of accomplishments under its belt

Vanguard I satellite marks 50 years in orbit – Engadget

Eliot Spitzer should resign as soon as possible — assuming he really is guilty of soliciting prostitution (as buyer, not seller — at least, in this case). Hypocrisy is no crime — thank gawd — but this elevates it to near-criminal levels. Moreover, Dems and liberals have nothing to prove to conservative scolds, but we all have a right to expect public servants to refrain from gross crime.

This is the perfect story to distract a gape-mouthed public seeking titillation. (“Haw, he said ‘TITillation!'”) What are we being distracted from? peace, mjh

But are we too busy twirling through the songs on our iPods — while checking e-mail, while changing lanes on the highway — to consider whether we are giving up a good thing? We are most human when we feel dull. Lolling around in a state of restlessness is one of life’s greatest luxuries — one not available to creatures that spend all their time pursuing mere survival. To be bored is to stop reacting to the external world, and to explore the internal one. It is in these times of reflection that people often discover something new, whether it is an epiphany about a relationship or a new theory about the way the universe works. Granted, many people emerge from boredom feeling that they have accomplished nothing. But is accomplishment really the point of life? There is a strong argument that boredom — so often parodied as a glassy-eyed drooling state of nothingness — is an essential human emotion that underlies art, literature, philosophy, science, and even love.

“If you think of boredom as the prelude to creativity, and loneliness as the prelude to engagement of the imagination, then they are good things,” said Dr. Edward Hallowell, a Sudbury psychiatrist and author of the book “CrazyBusy.” “They are doorways to something better, as opposed to something to be abhorred and eradicated immediately.” …

That means steeping in uninterrupted boredom may be the first step toward feeling connected. It “may take a little bit of tolerance of an initial feeling of boredom, to discover a comfort level with not being linked in and engaged and stimulated every second,” said Jerome C. Wakefield, a professor of social work at New York University and co-author of “The Loss of Sadness.” “There’s a level of knowing yourself, of coming back to baseline, and knowing who you truly are.”

The joy of boredom – The Boston Globe

[I]n an interview with BBC Radio’s Law in Action, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia defended torture, claiming that it is not necessarily barred by the Constitution:

Is it really so easy to determine that smacking someone in the face to find out where he has hidden the bomb that is about to blow up Los Angeles is prohibited under the Constitution? Because smacking someone in the face would violate the 8th amendment in a prison context. You can’t go around smacking people about.

Is it obvious that what can’t be done for punishment can’t be done to exact information that is crucial to this society? It’s not at all an easy question, to tell you the truth.

The BBC interviewer, however, objected to Scalia’s use of the so-called “ticking time bomb” scenario to justify government torture. “It’s a bizarre scenario,” he said. “Because the fact is, it’s very unlikely you’re going to have the one person who can give you that information. So if you use that as an excuse to commit torture, perhaps that’s a dangerous thing.” Scalia responded:

Seems to me you have to say, as unlikely as that is, it would be absurd to say that you can’t stick something under the fingernails, smack them in the face. It would be absurd to say that.

Think Progress » Scalia Defends Torture: It’s ‘Absurd’ To Say The Gov’t Can’t ‘Smack’ A Suspect ‘In The Face’

A glance at incidents or comments involving Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia that prompted calls for him to step aside in individual Supreme Court cases.

The Associated Press: A Glance at Scalia Controversies

updated 2/14/08

Maybe Baby Cat made it to his 15th birthday. He missed his 15th anniversary with us by one day. Baby died late this afternoon.

Fifteen years ago, we first heard, then saw Baby, behind the dryer in our garage, where Mama Cat had stashed him. His eyes were sightless blue; he was more skin than fur. We think Mama had rescued him from some catastrophe that cost her the rest of the litter. At some point, Mama moved Baby and we thought we might not see him again, until a neighbor found him in a flower pot, a safe place to stash your only kitten.

Mama was feral and ferocious. I actually feared her for quite a while. I thought it might be wise to drive her away. I opened the garage door and raised hell. She would not leave that kitten, even when I drove her up the wall — literally — into a corner of the garage. When she peed in fear, I felt myself a monster. I remember sitting in the garage with her glowering and growling as I thought, ‘something has to give.’ I approached her with gloves and reached out to pet her. It was like a switch was flipped. When she purred and arched, I drew back, expecting claws.

To protect our precious Miss Kitty (yes, we’re brilliant with pet names), we took Mama and Baby to the vet. Both were diagnosed with feline leukemia. However, cats can show leukemia simply because of a recent exposure without necessarily getting the disease. We needed to test both again in a month. (At the time, we wondered if this was a way to sell twice as many tests.) For that month, we kept Mama and Kitty apart and Baby stayed with a friend of ours.

After a month, both cats passed the test and we brought both into the house — Kitty’s house. Mama was determined to be the top cat and even drove Kitty into the street to make it possible. We decided it was best to send Mama to a farm in Los Lunas. For once, that is not just a story one tells a child. (Kids, it usually is just a story.)

Baby fit in fine with us. Eventually he outgrew his name, becoming a large, mellow cat. I often called him Little Dude and Doodle. Fourteen or so years passed.

Mornings and evenings, as we returned from walks with the dog, Baby was often waiting in the side yard or on the wall. He’d come out to the sidewalk as soon as he heard us and fall into step with Lucky, side-by-side.

Last summer, Kitty became unbearably sick. Putting her ‘to sleep’ was horrible. Though I miss her still, something changed when she was gone — Baby blossomed. After years as a mostly outdoor cat, often silent and aloof, Baby found his voice and took to reveling in Merri’s lap or by her side.

Through the winter, Baby spent the night inside, usually sleeping on Merri’s recliner or a dining room chair. (During this time, Lucky stopped sleeping under our bed and moved to the couch with its electric blanket.) In the mornings, Lucky gets me up early. Baby would go out with Lucky. When I went for the paper a little later, Baby would come running to get back into the warmth.

His increased companionship puts the edge on the irony to come. Last November, Baby passed his routine exam, though he had a couple of unusual heart rhythms that some day might worsen. We figured the trips to the vet exacerbated his heart problems. We joked about his right to refuse treatment and his right to die. We also refused a microchip for him and accepted a new three-year vaccine, figuring he would never see the vet again.

At the same time, we switched Baby to kitten food. He put on just enough weight and all seemed right with the world.

About a week ago, Baby started sneaking into the back of our closet — he would even pop the door open to do so. He also took to sleeping on one of two wool rugs on either side of the bed, instead of on our bed or in front of a heater vent. Notably odd, but not alarming. Until we realized he wasn’t eating anything. Over the next few days, before we could get to the vet, we thought a lot about how we may have kept Kitty alive too long, leading her to suffer too much. Still, this seemed premature, because Baby was drinking and peeing and walking about — just losing weight.

Monday morning, the vet found a significant mass in Baby’s belly, roughly between his colon and bladder. Xrays suggested some involvement of his kidneys, as well. We contemplated more tests, chemo, and surgery. These considerations are always hard for anyone you love. They were harder still given that Baby wasn’t obviously that sick yet. I know there is a tinge of denial in that, but some truth, too.

The vet hydrated Baby overnight. That treatment helped him revive a bit. We brought him home for hospice care, knowing the days or hours were numbered (as they always are for all of us). He sat in our laps and purred. He walked about the house, getting up into a favorite chair. This morning, I took him to the backyard for sun and bird sounds.

We might have gone on with hospice care, including subcutaneous saline drip, but he could no longer keep even water down. After 24 hours at home, a day short of our 15th anniversary with him, we had to surrender hope and let him go. We’ll miss him sorely. mjh

PS: Five years ago, I discovered I’m allergic to cats. (Having lived with cats most of my life.) The allergist suggested I consider getting rid of one or both cats. I told him, “time will take care of that.” A glib dagger in my heart.

Flickr: mjhinton’s photos tagged with babycat

PPS: We dug a hole for Baby Cat under his blue spruce tree, where he often slept. He’ll become part of that tree and, together, they’ll out live us, providing shelter for birds and, one day, no doubt, another cat.

Mer’s take: Baby Cat, February 1993 – February 13, 2008