15 September 2009

Rarer than diamonds, more precious than gold

Depending on when (or if) you read this, the odds are pretty good that someone recently was talking about humans returning to the moon. Or why going to the moon again is not optional, but necessary. Or perhaps that it's not feasible or responsible or conscionable, given the other issues facing people here on the ground. But regardless of what the schmuck on the street has to say, for or against, it doesn't look like anyone is going to spend enough money to put people on the moon again in the next couple of years.

Which might explain why an article like this depresses me more than I would have expected. So the US government in the 1970s decided to dole out moon rocks as ambassadorial keepsakes to friend(ly governments)s and (hoped for) allies and such. And now some of them are missing, presumably in the hands of private collectors.

Can you do anything with moon rocks? As far as I know, they don't power anything, they don't sparkle or gleam, and they're nothing special to the untrained eye. Apparently petrified wood was a reasonable substitute for the missing Dutch moon rock. So unless you've got some really special research to get done, they're not even particularly useful, just very, very rare.

It seems that NASA has a grand total of 842 pound of moon rock left. Until someone else gets a machine to the moon and back, that's it. There is no more access to moon rock. If going to the moon was really a giant leap for all mankind, with "for" meaning "on behalf of", then whoever has swiped pieces of moon rock has effectively refused to share with everyone else on the planet. I gots my piece of history, and the rest of you can go right to hell.

People, we've got to do better than this. Zero-sum games are not the only option.


Discovery News: Apollo moon rocks missing

03 September 2009

Relatively speaking

Last night I had a headache so bad that for a while I couldn't see. It hurt in parts of my head that I usually don't pay any attention to. For a period of time, all I was could think of was what felt like my sphenoid and occitipal bones 1 , and the screaming line of rusty barbed wire that connected them.

So it was with some trepidation that I considered my status today. For the first couple of hours I was awake, I don't think my head hurt. But the memory of it was so fresh that I couldn't be sure. I'd like to think this will make me more of the days when when I wake up and feel fine. But it's a damn easy thing to get to taking that for granted. So for now, yes, things are okay. I'm feeling no pain in the traditional sense 2 , and it's alllll right.

1. No, I didn't know what they were called until I looked them up today. Skulls are really complicated on the inside.
2. As in, no unusual discomfort, and not the slangy term for inebriation. People still say that, right? C'mon, someone else has to remember Gordon Lightfoot's 1974 hit?

Sundown?

Anyone?