A lot of people have also noticed the occasional reports of people being arrested for having photos of their newborn child, or for taking photos at a family gathering that included a (nearly-)naked infant wandering by in the background. The idea that there's a "slippery slope" leading to the criminalizing of all infant photos isn't quite correct; we're already at the bottom of that slope. If you're not aware or this, you might consider not taking any pictures whenever there are children in the vicinity (and it's warm enough for them to not be completely covered). Some infants can be pretty good at slipping out of their clothes and running around.

The terrorism part is also widely understood to mean "any activity that the government doesn't like at the moment". In the US, we even have the story of Senator Ted Kennedy being blocked at the airport because his name was on the government's list of terrorist. That one was funny, yes, but it doesn't take a genius to understand what that really means for the rest of us who aren't in powerful government (or industry) positions. Such programs are easily converted into tools that can be used against anyone, as was well illustrated by the victims of the "Red Hunt" back in the 1950s and 1960s.

Indeed. And we have lots of examples in the modern world where such mixed symbioses are visible. We're part of a lot of them. Consider that many of our domesticated species are far more "successful" than their wild relatives, but their price for teaming up with the world's top predator (us) is that we eat most of them. We let enough of them survive and reproduce that, biologically speaking, it's worth the price.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if it does turn out that our mitochondria started off as both food and parasites for the amoeba-like critters that eventually "domesticated" them and converted them into internal organs. This seems also seems possible for chloroplasts, who could have started as parasites on the larger cells, then eventually adapted to the "you give me minerals and water and hold me up to the sun and I'll give you sugars" role, and had no good reason to ever leave their hosts again.

But it's possible that we'll never be able to fully sort out how these adaptations happened. There's no natural law saying that they had to leave the evidence behind.

It might be pointed out that plants' chloroplasts and our mitochondria are now well-understood to have originated as "ingested" bacteria that, rather than being broken down and digested, ended up first as internal symbionts, and were over time transformed into the cells' internal organs. What these slugs are doing is somewhat similar to this, though on a somewhat smaller scale. The slugs apparently only nab a few chromosomes from the algae, and transfer them into their own digestive-system cells.

But the "first" in the article is a bit different from this: They describe it as the first-known such transfer between two multi-cellular species. Our mitochondria seem to have originated in a single-cell ancestor similar to an amoeba, which incorporated an entire living bacterium as an internal resident. Similarly, plant chloroplasts are believed to have originated as photosynthetic bacteria that were incorporated whole into early algae. In both of these cases, there has been gene transfer from the internal bacteria into the eukaryotic cell's nucleus, leaving the mitochondria and chloroplasts with mostly just the genes needed to do their job, and unable to survive outside their host cell.

But the slugs took a different route, of separating out the photosynthesis genes from their food's cells, moving the DNA into the slugs' cells, and digesting the rest of the algal cells as food.

It could be interesting to stick around and see how this works out. Eventually, they might be able to incorporate the photosynthetic mechanism into their own genome, so that when a slug cell divides, it'll get copies of of these genes and won't have to steal them from algae. Plants never never did this, because they maintained their chloroplasts' ability to divide within the plant cell (with a bit of help from the host cell). The slug's approach might turn out better than the plants'. Or maybe it won't. Or maybe it'll just be two different approaches to photosynthesis that both work well enough.

But we might not know about this for a few more millennia ...

In my experience, this is because "employers" in this context means the people who are either doing the hiring process, or are the top management. That is, they are people who have no concept of what a programming language is. So they make the obvious connection based on the terminology: It's like a (written, probably) human language. This means that it's so complex, inconsistent, and full of special cases that it takes years for anyone to become fluent.

I've experimented in a few interviews, and tried to get across what learning a programming language is really like. One of the example I like to bring up is my introduction to C. I borrowed a colleague's "C bible", took it home for the weekend, and read through it. On Monday morning, I sat down at a terminal at work and tried writing a few programs. One of my self-assigned programs was a functional sort routine, which I had running and correctly sorting some available multi-Mbyte datasets by noon. After lunch, I coded up another half dozen sort routines, wrote an inteface routine that took pointers to a data set and a sort function and churned out the results. I tested all the sort routines on all several dozen available datasets, and printed out the sort speed for each routine on each dataset. (The results of this surprised a lot of people, who knew the usual estimated speeds of sorts on random data, but of course none of our datasets were anywhere close to random. Some were really upset when the winner on several of our - very non-random - datasets was the bubble sort. ;-)

Inevitably, though, the interviewers decided that I was lying. Nobody could learn a language that fast, y'know. They were clearly puzzled about why I would even try to pass off such a blatant lie, when anyone would know it couldn't be possible. My colleagues in the DP department weren't surprised, of course; they'd all done similar things to learn other languages. Sorting is a well-defined subject with lots of well-defined algorithms that they could mostly code up in a few hours, and C is a logical, well-defined language that was (almost;-) completely described in a rather small book. But the HR and manager types that did the hiring all judged the difficulty by imagining how long it would take them to learn to explain a sort algorithm fluently in a strange human language, and by that misunderstanding, I had to be lying, because nobody can learn a language that well in only a weekend.

(Actually, I've only tried this sort of thing after I've already decided I don't want the job. Making them thing you're lying during the interview isn't really a good idea if you want a job. ;-)

Anyway, if you understand this, you understand why employers might not want to hire someone who doesn't know a language. They're thinking of examples like opening a sales organization in Pakistan or Thailand, and what would happen if they hired people who weren't fluent in the local languages to run the sales campaigns. The computer folks' use of the term "language" makes them think that hiring a programmer who doesn't know language X to write software in language X will be that sort of disaster, and they can't wait the years it'd take to develop the sort of fluency they need. There's nothing you can do to teach them about their serious lack of understanding. If you try, you'll just be labelled a liar, so don't bother trying to educate them.

I last read one several years ago, which was pretty much a side trip.

I'm not bothering again until his series actually has an end.

So if that ever happens, wake me up . . .

hawk

It must have been before recorded history. We have documented examples of such behavior for as long as we have documents.

Well, duh, they did it to verify that the people did give the "expected" answer most of the time. There are lots of scientific studies showing that something the "everyone knows" isn't actually true, so such beliefs are often worth actually testing. In this case, a number for what fraction of the people haven't a clue about DNA is interesting and potentially useful. It does put a lot of other such surveys in an "interesting" light.

Well, they apparently spent some time in meetings of an international organization discussing the definition of "planet", when they could have been doing actual scientific work. ;-)

Of course, sometimes terminology is important scientifically, and it's worthwhile spending time to get it right. But they were mocked by other actual astronomers pointing out that any term that includes both Mercury and Jupiter but not some objects with intermediate properties must be an absolutely worthless term for any scientific purposes. So, at least during the time they spent in such discussions of the definition of "planet", they weren't functioning as scientists. But they were pretending that the terminology involved had scientific value, so it probably did qualify for the term "pseudo-science", in at least one of its common meanings.

Neither has Earth; there's a rather large, bright rock visible in our sky about half the time. ;-)

Seriously, though, it's probably just a matter of time before a rock bigger than Earth is discovered out in the Kuiper belt and/or the Oort Cloud, and chances are pretty slim that its orbit will be "cleared" of rubble. This will either put an end to the current (somewhat bogus) definition of "planet", or it will cause the debate over what's a planet and what's not to bumble on indefinitely.

The most likely result will be that astronomers will eventually reject the term "planet" entirely. Sorta like how, a few centuries back, they rejected the older term "astrology", due to all its baggage and mis-use by pseudo-scientists and charlatans.

In any case, the big rocks in the sky don't really care how we classify them. They just go about their orbiting, occasionally bashing into each other (and occasionally us) at widely-spaced intervals.

Actually, it's quite common for local weather data to play fast-and-loose with the concept of "average" in ways that produce such anomalous results.

Thus, it's common to record the "average" temperature for a day by averaging the high and low temperature. It should be fairly obvious how this can produce days that are mostly below (or above) average, like when a front moves through and produces a peak high or low that's very different from most of the day. Similarly, I've seen the "average" monthly highs and lows calculated by taking four numbers (the min/max of the daily highs/lows) and doing similarly misleading averaging.

Actually, meteorologists typically record such things on an hourly basis, and do averaging across all of them. You still run into questions like whether the results are means or medians. But it's not unusual for the politically inclined to ignore such data (which is often only available by grovelling through the databases), using an "average" of only a small set of highs and lows.

Yes, these should average out over the long run. But we've seen so much "cherry picking" in this subject area that one should be skeptical of all the data until you've verified that the writers aren't trying to pull a fast one to support their religious/political/economic theories.

You must speak a rather restrictive dialect of English. In my native dialect (US West Coast), the phrase "everywhere around here" is quite normal, and you can figure out its meaning by inserting "that's" in the right place. The first quote above used the two halves of the phrase in a common way, and speakers of such dialects will automatically carry the "around here" over to the second sentence.

So what dialect do you speak, for which this isn't true. Online linguists studying English dialects are curious ...

Nah; they can't do that. The reason is simple: They're now big, established companies, and big, established companies never, ever innovate. To them, "innovation" means making a few superficial tweaks to the product's appearance, while loudly proclaiming "New! Improved!". Any true change is a threat to the product that provides their current income.

If you want something that actually works differently, you have to go with the experimental, upstart companies. Most of them will eventually fail, of course, or if they start to succeed, they'll be bought out by one of the big guys, who will quietly shut them down. Or maybe they'll be sued out of existence by all the big guys via their list of vague patents. But a few will become "the next Google" or whatever was the successful upstart 1was called 0 years ago in their field. Then they'll no longer innovate in any meaningful sense.

That's also hard to take seriously. Extrapolating a sample of one to a universe with billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars, is just silly. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't do it, of course. I'd be tempted to answer by arguing that an Earth-size "moon" around a gas giant may be more likely to have life, but of course that would be extrapolating from a sample of zero. (Unless we discover life on one of Jupiter's moons, or on Titan. ;-)

Without a lot more evidence than we have, conjectures about the possibility of life in/on various astronomical objects are just conjectures. This is fun, and a lot of scientific work is based on such conjecture, but there's not a chance that we can accurately calculate the probabilities with what we know now.

Yeah, yeah; but any classification system that puts Mercury and Jupiter into a single class, while putting Earth and Titan into different classes, is just too silly to take seriously. Lots of astronomers take this sort of attitude, and either avoid using such terms at all, or have a bit of fun trolling the people who take them seriously. Some have also pointed out that it makes a lot more sense, scientifically, to consider the Earth's orbit to contain two planets that exchange positions on a monthly cycle. This might also be considered a sort of trolling, though it does have its serious side, as these two bodies do significantly influence each other through mechanisms like their mutual tides.

In any case, none of these heavenly bodies care at all what we call them, and nothing we say can influence their properties or behavior.

On the other hand, there are two planets in our solar system with less mass than Earth, but denser atmospheres: Venus and Titan. Venus is only slightly smaller and less massive than our planet, but has a much denser atmosphere. Titan is a lot smaller as well as less dense, but has an atmosphere roughly 50% denser than ours -- and full of organic molecules.

Our kind of life couldn't exist on either one of them, of course, mostly for temperature reasons. But we don't have many samples of the conditions in which life can exist and evolve, so it's sorta presumptuous to claim that we "know" anything about what's possible.