Thanks, Lemon (Hank Green)

Good morning, John. I'm not going to say I'm a bad writer, I think I'm a pretty good writer, but I will say that I generally write my best stuff when I'm not doing what people consider, "writing." I'm not that interested in metaphor, or lyricism, or beautiful language, at least not for their own sakes. I don't tend to think about how words sound beyond rhythm, I mostly strive to say the most with the least number of words and to communicate complicated things as simply as possible. And usually that serves me very well, but sometimes there are just things that can't be said that way which often leaves me unable to communicate effectively the things that I feel are most important. My dog died. She got Cancer. Osteosarcoma, which is very common in Greyhounds. Nobody knows why. It almost always metastasizes immediately to the lungs and the only treatment is amputation which is painful and short-term. Many dog owners choose to simply manage the pain, which is what we did. And now, I'm very sad. I'm sad in a weird way where I will forget why I'm sad while still being sad, and I will think, "why am I so sad?" and then I will remember and feel guilty for having forgotten. I'm sad in a way where sometimes I won't even have thoughts. I will only have sadness, and my mind will interject and ask, "why am I crying?" and there will be no reason. Just the crying. I don't pretend to have known the mind of my dog. I will never understand how she thought of me or how she understood her own life. Really, all I can know of my dog is the effect that she had on me, and that I suppose — somewhat selfishly — is maybe the important thing? Lemon was a dog, and she was my dog, and she was special, and valuable, and amazing; but also not any of those things. In every way she was just another dog. She wasn't a treasure, but she was my treasure. We all get so caught up in living in such a big world with oversized people making their mark, and maybe we think that in order to be valuable we have to be like that. Even if the mark we make is made of dirt, ugly and easily wiped away, we should be making a mark as well. But, look, Lemon was a dog, just another dog, lots of people liked her. But she was just a dog. But dammit if I didn't think she was important, dammit if she hasn't left a hole in my heart. Nothing matters but to each other, and Lemon mattered to me. People always asked me when meeting Lemon if she was a rescue. I was always kind of uncomfortable saying yes, even though I guess it's technically true. But it's not as if I got her as an act of good will. We adopted Lemon because we wanted a dog, and because greyhounds are good dogs. They're relaxed and loving and adorable. How could we consider this an act of charity? Buying for a small fee a cuddle companion, and a reason to get out of bed on Sunday mornings, and somebody to blame your farts on. We didn't rescue Lemon, we just got a dog. But I didn't really get what was in it for me, because as much as her life got better after she was adopted, after living life not abused but more as livestock than a pet, my life must've gotten better than hers. Because in valuing Lemon, noble and ridiculous and just another dog, I learned that feeling valued and knowing that you matter is much more about how you think of others than how others think of you. And that's just one of the thousand things that that dumb dog taught me, and—and I guess is still teaching me. Thanks, Lemon. John, I'll see you on Tuesday.
(transcripción por httpchans)

¿Existe Papá Noel?

¿Hay un Santa Claus?

Ninguna especie conocida de reno es capaz de volar. Aún así, hay cientos de miles, incluso millones de especies de organismos vivientes por ser clasificadas. Mientras que la mayoría de estos son insectos y gérmenes, esto no descarta COMPLETAMENTE algún reno volador que solamente Santa haya visto.

Hay dos mil millones de niños (personas menores de 18 años de edad) en el mundo. Como Santa (aparentemente) no trata con los niños musulmanes, hindúes, judíos y budistas, esto reduce su trabajo a un 15% del total: 378 millones, de acuerdo con el PRB. Con una tasa promedio de 3,5 niños por casa, eso hace un total de 91,8 millones de hogares. Se presume que hay al menos un niño bueno por hogar.

Santa tiene una navidad de 31 horas para trabajar. Esto se debe a los diferentes husos horarios y la rotación de la Tierra, asumiendo que viaja de este a oeste (lo cual parece lógico). Esto se traduce en 822,6 visitas por segundo.

Esto nos dice que por cada casa cristiana con niños buenos, Santa tiene 0,001 segundos para estacionar, bajar del trineo, bajar por la chimenea, llenar las medias, distribuir los regalos restantes bajo el árbol, comer lo que le hayan dejado, subir por la chimenea, volver al trineo e ir a la casa siguiente.

Asumiendo que cada una de estas 91.8 millones de paradas están distribuidas equitaivamente alrededor de la Tierra (lo que, por supesto, sabemos que es falso, pero para el propósito de nuestros cálculos vamos a aceptar), estamos hablando de 1,26 kilómetros por casa, un viaje total de 121,51 millones de kilómetros, sin contar paradas para lo que todos tenemos que hacer al menos una vez cada 31 horas, mas comer, etc.

Entonces, el trineo de Santa se debe mover a 1050 kilómetros por segundo, o sea 3.000 veces la velocidad del sonido. Para comparar, el vehículo más rápido hecho por el hombre en la Tierra, la Sonda espacia Ulysses, se mueve a una pequeña velocidad de 44,1 kilómetros por segundo. Un reno convencional puede correr, como mucho, a 24 kilómetros por hora.

La carga del trineo agrega otro elemento interesante. Asumiendo que cada niño obtiene nada más que un set de Lego de tamaño mediano (un kilogramo), el trineo está llevando 321.300 toneladas, sin contar a Santa, quien es descrito invariablemente como una persona con sobrepeso. En tierra, un reno convencional no puede llevar más que 150 kg. Aún suponiendo que el "reno volador" (ver arriba) pueda tirar diez VECES la cantidad normal, no podemos hacer el trabajo con ocho o tal vez 9 renos. Necesitamos 214.200. Esto incrementa la carga, sin contar el peso del trineo, a 353.430 toneladas. ¡¡Esto es cuatro veces el peso del buque de línea Queen Elizabeth!!

353.00 toneladas viajando a 1050 kilómetros por segundo crea una resistencia al aire enorme. Esto calentará los renos de la misma forma que una nave espacial reentrando en la atmósfera terrestre. ¡¡¡El par de renos a la cabecera absorberá 14,3 TRILLONES de joules de energía!!! ¡¡¡Por segundo!!! ¡¡¡Cada uno!!! Resumiendo, se van a prender fuego casi instantáneamente, exponiendo al reno detrá de ellos, y creando ondas sónicas ensordizantes a su paso. Todo el equipo de renos se va a vaporizar 0.00426 segundos. Mientra tanto, Santa estará expuesto a fuerzas centrífugas 17.500,06 veces más grandes que la gravedad. Un santa de 120 kg (no tan pesado) sería empujado a la parte trasera del trineo por 1.957.257,88 kg. de fuerza.

Por consiguiente, si alguna vez Santa ALGUNA VEZ entregó regalos en noche buena... ahora está muerto.

¡Feliz navidad!

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Is there a Santa Claus?

No known species of reindeer can fly. However, there are hundreds of thousands, even millions of species of living organisms yet to be classified. While most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. Since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish & Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with. This is due to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits/second.

This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has .001 seconds to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house.

Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles/household, a total trip of 75.5 million miles; not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once ever 31 hours, plus feeding etc.

So Santa's sleigh must be moving at 650 miles/second, 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on the earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second. A conventional reindeer can run, TOPS, 15 miles/hour.

The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-size Lego set (2 lb.); the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 lbs. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see above) could pull 10 TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with 8, or even 9 reindeer. We need 214,200. This increases the payload - not counting the weight of the sleigh to 353,430 tons. This is four times the weight of the ocean-liner Queen Elizabeth!!!

353,00 tons traveling at 650 miles/second creates enormous air resistance. This will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as a spacecraft reentering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy!!! Per second!!! Each!!! In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within .00426th of a second. Meanwhile, Santa will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity, A 250 lb Santa (seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of this sleigh by 4,315,015 lbs. of force.

Therefore, if Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve ... he's dead now.

Merry Christmas!

Fuentecitancia: I fucking love science

Agradecimientos eternos a Belén que tuvo la idea, algún día nos robaremos la navidad.

ZeFrank - Santa must have been drinking

Father henry got a mail-order bride,
and good little Jodie got a box with nothing inside.
Rabbi Eli got a bona fide note from the Pope,
One-eyed Justin got a brand new stereoscope.

And then there's you baby, you got me,
Sitting here underneath the christmas tree.
There ain't no doubt about it baby, you can see,
Santa must have been drinking.

Well, Grandpa got a brand new car but he don't know how to drive,
Grandma got some chinaware but she ain't alive.
And my neighbour's 3 year-old boy, he's got a ratchet set
and my cousin's got something really strange, but how i forget.
Martin got a swimming pool, but he don't know how to swim
and Raymond got some shotgun shells, but i don't wanna talk about him.

And then there's you baby, you got me,
Sitting here underneath the christmas tree.
There ain't no doubt about it baby, you can see,
Santa must have been drinking.

And then there's you baby, you got me,
Sitting here underneath the christmas tree.
There ain't no doubt about it baby, you can see,
Santa must have been drinking.

Tell that to the president.

One day, the president and Mrs. Coolidge were visiting a government farm. Soon after their arrival, they were taken off on separate tours. When Mrs. Coolidge passed the chicken pens, she paused to ask the man in charge if the rooster copulates more than once a day. "Dozens of times," was the reply. "Please tell that to the president," Mrs. Coolidge requested. When the president passed the pens and was told about the rooster, he asked "Same hen every time?" "Oh no, Mr. President, a different one each time." The president nodded slowly, then said, "Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge."

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/the-4-most-impressively-weird-sex-lives-u.s.-presidents_p2#ixzz3HxFCGZlm

Un día, el presidente [de Estados Unidos Calvin Coolidge] y su esposa estaban visitando una granja del gobierno. Al llegar,  los llevaron en visitas separadas. Cuando la señora Coolidgs pasó por el lugar donde estaban las gallinas, paró para preguntarle al hombre a cargo si el gallo copulaba más de una vez al día. "Docenas de veces" fue la respuesta. "Por favor dígale eso al presidente" pidió la señora Coolidge. Cuando el presidente pasó por donde estaban las gallinas y le dijeron del gallo, él preguntó "¿Con la misma gallina cada vez?" "Oh, no, señor Presidente, con una distinta cada vez". El presidente asintió lentamente, y luego dijo "Dígale eso a la señora Coolidge".

Humans Need Not Apply

Estereotipos en películas.

6 Insane Stereotypes That You Still See in Every Movie -- powered by Cracked.com

Los protagonistas son diestros, los patiños son zurdos. MIND BLOWN

Satélites caídos

Aunque los satélites nos miren
Aunque sepan cómo, dónde y cuándo
Aunque los sistemas nos vigilen
No podrán saber por qué brindamos.

Zambayonny