Still not at peak transgender...

Largest ever study of transgender teenagers kicks off : Nature News & Comment

Probably is about time they decided to study the effect of puberty blocking treatment in adolescents, if they are going to offer it.

You have to wonder though - some old cultures (Polynesian , for example) would have happily, in certain circumstances, let their effeminate boys dress and act as women, but there was no option for surgery in past centuries.  (Mind you, some boys were forced into the role, too, which was unlikely to please them.)

But if that group of genuinely "want to be a girl" boys weren't hurling themselves off cliffs because they were depressed about still having a penis, how has it become such a matter of crucial importance to Western men in the 20th century that it be whipped off ASAP?

(Sorry, my vast audience of transgender readers, no doubt I am not dealing with the topic sensitively enough.)

An Indian worry

Is India facing its worst-ever water crisis? - BBC News

Running out of ideas, Chris?

The democratic case for splitting Queensland in two - The Drum (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)

The way I read this column, Chris Berg is having trouble finding anything worthwhile to write about.

Perhaps it's easier to ask: "what don't gut bacteria influence?"

GI tract bacteria help decrease stroke

95% a great movie

I saw 10 Cloverfield Lane over the weekend.

It's a taut psychological thriller with much to recommend it, and I don't want to put anyone off seeing it.

But - there are two or three bothersome plot points which I haven't seen discussed anywhere.  (I know that one is not mentioned in reviews because it completely gives away the ending.)

Before I get to those, it's the sort of smaller scale Hollywood movie that makes me wonder why small Australian movies can't be as good as this.   The budget could not have been high:  about 90% of the film is set in the bunker, which seems to take only about 3 or 4 different sets.   It's just great because of the acting and screenplay.

Now for the plot issues, in increasing order of seriousness:

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

DO NOT READ IF YOU INTEND SEEING THE MOVIE (AND YOU SHOULD)

1.   Why would the bunker be designed so that there is no way to get to the air filtering system for maintenance, or "reset", except via the narrow duct?   There could have been an explanation given - I suggested to my son that maybe Howard had intended having a Hazmat suit that would allow him to go out the main door and get to the vent via its window, but he had accidentally left it in house?  But there is no explanation given, and the need for our hero to go down the vent is very important, plot wise.  With no explanation, the design just makes no sense, at all.  It deserved an explanation.

UPDATE:   I should have known, someone on Reddit would talk about this and explain it, if there was something to explain.   Yes, I overlooked something - or rather, didn't understand properly what was happening - that the thing Howard was pulling on was an access point, but it was covered by something and couldn't be used.   They could have made that clearer than they did.

2.  At the end, is it her car that she is in, and finds the bottle of spirits that she then (implausibly) puts to good use?  If so, is it sufficiently bashed up, and why would Howard bring it there anyway?  This may well be clearer on a second viewing, so I am not sure if this is a problem or not.

Now, out of kindness, I'll even reduce the chances of the main issue ruining the movie for someone who might have accidentally scanned this post:

3.  Do aliens really design ships that forget the fire extinguishers?   Come on, at least in War of the Worlds it took a handful of grenades thrown into the gaping maw to bring down a tripod: that had a bit more plausibility than a flaming bottle of scotch.   I know it must have been hard to come up with a good idea for getting out of this, but still, I was not convinced that this was the best they could come up with.UPDATE:  I see from the Reddit discussion that the green gas the alien ship was spraying around was shown as being flammable, hence the inside of the ship blew up easily.   Hmmm.  Maybe adds some plausibility?

Further Update:   I should explain - I liked the "twist" in a general sense - it was sort of nightmarish in a pleasing way.    I just didn't care much for one detail of the twist. 

Engineers and terrorism

I see that the Chronicle of Higher Education recently ran a lengthy story looking at the matter of why engineers seem over-represented amongst terrorists.  No firm conclusions, but all very interesting.  There's much disagreement that follows in the comments, too.

Easter art

Everyone in the house has had a dripping nose and spluttering cough (except me, so far.)  Maybe I'll save my annual cold until it's actually cold - the days are still hot, humid and almost devoid of breeze in my part of the world.  (Well, OK, I started this post a couple of days ago now, and it was overcast and somewhat cooler yesterday - though still very humid.  I see we are in for another week of over 30 degree weather...)

In any event, I'm late to the party but it's Easter and I'm pretty devoid of religious commentary of late.

So let's do religious art instead.

Dali was a prime eccentric weirdo who made lots of money from cultivating that image.  Including, it seems, via endorsing an industry in semi-fake artwork.  From an article at The Independent:

According to Lauryssens – who was eventually tracked down by Interpol in the late Eighties and served two years in jail for selling forgeries – the more he indulged in fake Dali works the more he uncovered a world where fake prints, sculptures and lithographs were created by some of the people closest to Dali, even with the painter’s alleged approval. “From the 1960s everyone knew that Dali needed close to half a million dollars a month to fund his lavish lifestyle” he said. “He was living like a mini-maharajah.”

Dali himself frequently admitted he had made enormous sums of money by signing hundreds of quick sketches and lithographs which would then sell for thousands of pounds. He once famously remarked: “Each morning after breakfast I like to start the day by earning $20,000.” The existence of several hundred thousand Dali lithographs has encouraged a flourishing, parallel global trade in fakes while by the time Dali died of heart failure in 1989 his estate was left with $87m.

Nevertheless, a technically talented and evocative artist he definitely was, in his prime, and I like most of his religious works, which apparently came after a public return to Catholicism in 1949.  (Mind you, that didn't seem to stop his libertine life, if this story by Cher - yes, Cher has a Salvador Dali story to tell - is anything to go by.)

Anyhow, to get to the point:  Dali's The Sacrament of the Last Supper, this one:

is the subject of an interesting article entitled "Misunderstood Masterpiece" from a few years back in a Catholic magazine, America.

A couple of Protestant theologians really disliked it:

Theologians, like the Protestants Francis Schaeffer and Paul Tillich, have also weighed in. For Schaeffer, Dalí’s image was a clear example of Christian meaning being lost to a vague existentialism: “This intangible Christ which Dalí painted is in sharp contrast to the bodies of the apostles who are physically solid in the picture. Dalí explained in his interviews that he had found a mystical meaning for life in the fact that things are made up of energy rather than solid mass. Because of this, for him there was a reason for a vault into an area of nonreason to give him the hope of meaning.”

Tillich’s view of the painting, conveyed during a lecture on religion and art, was reported by Time magazine: “Tillich deplored Dalí’s work as a sample of the very worst in ‘what is called the religious revival of today.’ The depiction of Jesus did not fool Tillich: ‘A sentimental but very good athlete on an American baseball team... The technique is a beautifying naturalism of the worst kind. I am horrified by it!’ Tillich added it all up: ‘Simply junk!’”

I have to admit, when you look closely at Christ's face (see below), it does seem a tad "Donny Osmond", who especially leaps to my mind because I was watching him in long wig in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat a few days ago.  (Osmond was born a couple of years after the painting was completed, incidentally.)

Anyway, according to Michael Novak, the author of the above article, the headless torso is God the Father:

The Christ then directs our eye upward to the figure that would otherwise dominate the painting, a giant torso whose arms span the width of the picture plane. This figure is likely the intended focus because our eye is directed around the canvas to this spot; both figures are transparent. Christ gestures with his left hand toward himself and with his right hand points to the figure above. He looks like a visual representation of Jesus’ reply to his disciple Philip, who asked at the Last Supper, “Lord, show us the Father….” “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time?” Jesus replied, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (Jn 14:8-9).

The Father’s face is appropriately off the canvas; this is the transcendent God who warned Moses, “You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live” (Ex 33:20). 

I haven't thought about the painting for a long time, but the outstretched arms of the torso tend to remind me instead of Christ's crucified, or perhaps resurrected, body.  Certainly, we're not really used to representations of God the Father with a youthful body, half unclothed, are we?  The Wikipedia entry on God the Father in Western Art made me think for a moment that Michelangelo had gone there, as they show this detail from part of the Sistine Chapel:

But, no, the full picture shows that He's showing off his buff torso with some form fitting gear:

And zoom out further, who exactly is the bare butt exposing figure?:

This is well accepted as being God the Father again from a different perspective.  The matter of why Michelangelo would have painted him as going commando, in the modern parlance, is the matter of some conjecture, but I see that at least one blog writer thinks it's possible to find a scriptural justification, based on God's encounter with Moses: 

“And the Lord continued, ‘See, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock; and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen.’” (Exodus 33:21-23)

The term “my back” poses linguistic and theological challenges.  In the Hebrew, the term rendered by NRSV as “back” is plural (אָחוֹר ‘achowr {aw-khore’}).  The third century B. C. scholars who translated the Hebrew Bible for the Septuagint retained the plural into Greek (τὰ ὀπίσω μου).  In the fourth century A.D., Jerome did the same when he put the text into Latin, posteriora mea.  In 1611, the translators of the King James version followed the prior plurals, “..and thou shalt see my back parts.”  Some nouns in various languages can be grammatically plural though logically singular, such as Los Angeles, which means “The Angels” but refers to a single city.  Perhaps these translators merely intend such an understanding, and the NRSV regularizes that to a grammatical singular.  I don’t think that’s right; I think that those translators were a very well educated group.  The Jewish scholars of the third century B.C. knew Greek and Hebrew equally well (they lived back then); Jerome was no amateur; and James’s scholars went back to the Hebrew for their version.  I think that Michelangelo agreed with the scholars who retained the plural, for he clearly represents the butt-crack of God, with the two globes of the buttocks vividly distinct.  The NRSV is just being prudish for their contemporary audience.

I digress.

I'm happy to accept the interpretation that Dali's torso is the Father, especially as we get the Holy Spirit in the picture, too:

The full presence of the Triune God is made complete by the inclusion of an illusory Holy Spirit dove perched on Christ’s left shoulder, composed of the lines of his hair and jaw.

It took me a while to see this again, but when I spotted it, I remembered that I had seen it before:

Surprisingly, it seems no one on the net has gone to the bother of outlining it.  So I'll try:

Well, I think I've got that right.   Maybe this was shown in an old high school art book of mine, I forget. 

The biggest mystery of the painting, though, may be why the other figures around Christ are almost, but not quite, mirror images of each other.  Novak doesn't really have an explanation:

Assuming traditional symbolism, we would identify those at table as the Twelve Apostles. A second look makes us question that assumption. For these are mirror images of one another: six sets of twins around the table, not the historical followers of Jesus. The figures painted here are not important for their personalities, but for their actions: their reverent prayer and worship.

So it is not meant to be a realistic portrayal of the Last Supper;  I think that is right.

Novak says that the painting is very popular, even though it doesn't take pride of place in its home at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC.    I think I actually saw it myself, on one of my trips to Washington in the 80's;  I remember being impressed once with seeing a real live Dali in a gallery, but whether it was this one I can't recall.  

In any event, it's been worth considering.   It also raises to my mind the question of the modern image of God.   Old tribal understandings of Gods as embodied (if shape shifting) superhumans at least gave artists something "solid" to work with.  The more modern feeling of God as a force or pure intelligence or some such (a trend which CS Lewis decried as wrong headed, but then again, he was writing before the computer age),  presents the artist with a difficulty, doesn't it.  How is disembodied, all pervading intelligence best portrayed artistically?   I have no idea, but perhaps should think about it....

Ear worm noted

Strange as it seems
there's been a run of crazy dreams,
and a man who can interpret could go far
could become a star... 

Why do I like the first two lines so much?  I guess it's their combination with the music, but Tim Rice at his best really was a great and witty lyricist, no?  (Readers may think - what's so great about those lines? - but they are, for me, an incredibly persistent ear worm if I hear the song.  Which I just did.)

But, um, he does look unrecognizably old

Leave David Letterman alone: For a celebrity, “showing his age” means aging in public at all - Salon.com

Nick Pope sounding more or less reasonable

BBC - Future - My time as a UFO investigator for the government

Liberal intellectuals and criticism of Islam

Paul Berman and Michael Walzer in Defense of Kamel Daoud – Tablet Magazine

Interesting in light of the terrorism this week, especially.

Ryan sneaks away from Rand

Paul Ryan's bizarre speech was a de facto endorsement of Donald Trump - Vox

As this article notes, it may be considered something of a "plus" for Republicans to have one of them coming out and admitting that analysing poverty using Ayn Rand terminology is wrong (and politically stupid, too); on the other hand, Ryan can't bring himself to denounce Trump's offensive language re women and race/nationality.

And this reminds me, Krugman ripped into Ryan the other day, too; although it was largely a matter of  repeating a complaint  he has made many times before.   

The likeable Pratt

Chris Pratt does come across as ridiculously likeable in this video made around the set of Guardians of the Galaxy 2.  Another reason to watch is to see how young and geeky the director looks.

Superhero dud?

I see that my least anticipated film of the year, that Batman/Superman CGI baloneyfest, is getting distinctly mixed reviews.Therefore, for one of my readers who knows who he is:

: )

Indonesia has rhinos?

Sumatran rhino sighted in Indonesian Borneo for first time in 40 years | Environment | The Guardian

I'm only vaguely aware of the type of mammals that exist through that part of the world, it seems.  

IPA director praises IPA mouthpieces

I didn't know Janet Albrechtsen was a Director at the IPA.   No wonder I sensed no reason to read her for the last few years.

It's funny reading her heaping praise on Paterson and Wilson as new Liberal Party recruits to Parliament, followed by a comment below:

Thanks Janet for the objective and inspired journalism.

Was Jon having a laugh?

More European terrorism

I can't think of much else to say about the Brussels terrorism attack, apart from repeating the sentiment I expressed after the Paris attack.  

I also see that it is, as usual, driving some on the Right nuts. 

The latest from Katesland

It's very entertaining watching Steve Kates (whose reviews of kids films lead his grandchild to comment "Daddy, Grandpa is scaring me") ramp up the love for Donald Trump.  Today's entry:

For a change, a conviction politician in the mould of Margaret Thatcher, but someone, also like her, who can get things done and is every inch a conservative.

I wonder if Sinclair Davidson now avoids him in the staff room at lunch?

Disbelief in the ancient world

Battling the Gods: Atheism in the Ancient World review – disbelief has been around for 2,500 years | Books | The Guardian

This is quite an interesting topic:  the forms that doubt, agnosticism and/or atheism took in the ancient world.  Here are some extracts from the review:

Classical scholars may turn to Whitmarsh’s book, as I did, with
questions about whether the term “atheism” is really the right one for
discussing pre-Judaeo-Christian religious doubts and resistance to
religion. It is an academic commonplace to distinguish between the
“orthopraxy” of Graeco-Roman religion – the focus on collective rituals,
sacrifices and festivals – and the “orthodoxy” of modern monotheistic
religions. No ancient Greek or Roman ever recited a Creed. Besides, in
classical Greek, the word atheos (“not-god”) is usually used to
mean “godless” or “against-the-gods”, rather than a person who does not
believe that gods exist. But Whitmarsh builds a case that stories about
“battling the gods” are actually ways of articulating doubts about
traditional religious teaching. He argues that classicists have gone too
far in presenting ancient religion as primarily concerned only with
action, not faith. As he rightly notes, this historical claim relies
heavily on public sources, such as inscriptions, which may teach us a
lot about ritual practices but much less about what individual
worshippers thought was true and false. Public documents can only give
the “official, ideologically sanctioned versions of events”. For this
reason, much of Whitmarsh’s work is a careful teasing out of the
literary and philosophical sources, including those that exist only in
fragmentary form, as he searches for hints of people in antiquity who
questioned the gods’ existence.

The ancient Greeks certainly did not assume that the gods are likable or
lovable, and hostility to the gods is a familiar trope in Greek
literature. The Homeric poems –
which were never treated with the reverence afforded to the holy books
of the Islamic or Jewish traditions, but which were by far the best
known texts of Graeco-Roman antiquity – depict anthropomorphic gods who
are very much of this world, and who interact with humans, even fighting
with them on the battlefield. Battling the gods was a common enough
trope in the Greek imagination that they had a word for it: theomachia.
One might think that stories about gods as threats to humans must imply
a strong belief in their existence. But Whitmarsh argues that theomachy
stories express “a kind of atheism, through the narrative medium of
myth”. One key example is the archaic tale of Salmoneus, who claimed to
be Zeus, demanded sacrifices to be offered to himself, and created
thunder by dragging kettles around behind his chariot. Whitmarsh
suggests that this story raises disturbing questions for believers in
the gods: “If gods can be fashioned by mortal imitation, how real can
they be?”

 (Go on Jason - you know you want to link to that review.)

What the heck?

The Australian reports:

Indigenous journalist and author Stan Grant has been in talks with the Liberal Party about running for the marginal western Sydney seat of Parramatta.
The move would be a coup for the Liberals and could prove a potential upset to sitting Labor MP Julie Owens, who has held the seat since 2004 but had her margin reduced to 1.3 per cent at the last election.

After watching Grant on Julia Zemiro's Home Delivery recently, I had intended posting about how intensely annoying I find him.  He's a bit like an aboriginal version of Michael Ware: so earnestly self-involved I have trouble listening to them for more than 10 minutes.

Is the Liberal Party on some sort of mission to recruit all of the most annoyingly self assured, but actually intellectually vapid, personalities in Australia?