Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Color Me Disappointed

So the Large Hadron Collider is officially now online. Despite fears (or at least fearmongering) that the LHC could, inter alia, create a black hole (er, sorry, Barack Hussein Obama fans, I meant "a hole of no color")that would devour the earth, or give rise to the wonderfully-named strangelets which would render the entire solar system into a puddle of grey strangelet goo, we are still here.

And I am, in a really weird and uncomfortable way that I'm not quite fully prepared to explore, a little disappointed. Wouldn't it be neat to be able to tell the grandkids (metaphorically speaking, of course, as they would consequently never exist) that you were alive when a new and exotic form of matter was created? Or isn't your curiously just a little bit piqued to know what's on the "other side", so to speak, of a black hole? And as a Bible-thumping redneck fundie, I know that any world-ending event must coincide with the Rapture, so I've got that going for me too!

And yet, here we are, mundane as ever, with Wednesday being exactly the same, for all intents and purposes, as the Tuesday before it. Ho-freakin'-hum.

Maybe the SSC down in Texas will come back online in the future, despite the best efforts of time-traveling world-saviors, and I'll get to experience a singular event of Physics then. Lousy Democrats and their lousy project-cancelling. One more reason to resent Bill Clinton!

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15 Comments:

Anonymous Marty said...

Ben, it's not completely revved up yet. And I think they weren't actually colliding particle beams, just sending one beam around the track. You might still have your chance.

I think it would kind of cool if they threw the switch and all of a sudden a great gush of wind started heading down the tube, lights dim, the guy at the control panel's hair starts pulling toward the hole, stuff starts moving down the tables and consoles toward the tunnel. The guy quickly throws the switch the other way, and with sweat beading on his forehead, looks back at the test director, who, gape-jawed, says "Whoa. Dude. That was close."

8:26 AM  
Blogger Benjamin said...

And I say without a hint of irony or sarcasm that "Whoa. Dude." WOULD probably be the exact response (or at least its French or Swiss analog) of the ridiculously-highly educated overseers if such a thing actually did happen. What else could you say in such a circumstance?

8:34 AM  
Anonymous Chris said...

You mention the grandkids. Has it been established that people in a black hole can't procreate? Would we even know we're in a black hole, or would some outside observer have to tell us (this could take weeks)?

I mean, I'm told we're hurling and spinning through space at a high rate of speed, but I really don't "feel" that. Well... most days, anyway.

8:38 AM  
Anonymous Marty said...

You'd feel it. The "tidal forces" (differential effect of gravity on any extended body) would be immense. Even subatomic particles would be distorted. Eventually everything gets "extruded" and only energy remains...

8:52 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY...............................

I will now begin reading paragraph 2:)8-

ZCOL

3:39 PM  
Blogger Benjamin said...

Grey. This is the preferred British spelling, and since they are our cultural superiors, "grey" it is.

4:43 PM  
Blogger Benjamin said...

Plus, it's really a lovely colour. Why, I love going to the Theatre and watching films in grey-scale.

4:43 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!! GRAY!!!

9:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

By the way, did you like my shemale emoticon?

ZCOL

9:01 AM  
Anonymous Marty said...

I think the brotherly interaction here is way stranger than what goes on at Mazurland.

9:35 AM  
Blogger Benjamin said...

Well, I don't know: did any of YOUR brothers ever wipe his sweaty scrotum on your doorknob right before you were about to grasp it (the doorknob, not the scrotum) to enter the sanctum of your OWN DAMN ROOM?

Because mine did.

9:40 AM  
Anonymous Marty said...

I guess every band of brothers has a Hank. Luckily, the Mazur Brothers didn't have to live with ours.

How exactly does one wipe ones scrotum on a doorknob?

7:52 AM  
Blogger Benjamin said...

It's not hard, really. If you're having trouble imagining it, I suggest you review your nearest copy of this book.

In other news, and maybe Chris can chime in on this, how much would you want to bet that some first-year med students see that book and think (or, God forbid, say) "Wow, that's lame -- they named a textbook after a medical TV show!" Those students should be summarily executed, of course. So they don't become doctors, and so they don't breed.

8:01 AM  
Anonymous Marty said...

I was just having a discussion about this with my daughter recently. Apparently, Grey's Anatomy is very popular among college girls. She did not know about the pun WRT the famous anatomy text. But then, she's not in med school. If someone ever said that in med school, I'd at least want it noted on her permanent record and I'd want an asterisk and footnote printed on her diploma.

2:55 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The key is to have a loose set that is sweaty, not cheesy. I suggest running 3 miles immediately prior. That accomplishes both objectives, at least in Arkansas in the summer.

ZCOL

1:50 PM  

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