Monthly Archives: December 2014

Solar wind and planetary atmosphere: review of Dr. Matt Fillingim’s talk on Martian weather

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Dr. Matt Fillingim

Dr. Matt Fillingim

Solar Wind and the Potential Dissolution of Mars’ Atmosphere and Habitability
— by Cristina Deptula
Gusts of solar wind regularly flow out of the sun at nearly a million miles per hour and permeate the solar system. Earth’s magnetic field protects us from most of this radiation, but other planets with less internal magnetism, such as Mars, are much more exposed.
In Chabot’s October enrichment talk, Dr. Matt Fillingim of UC Berkeley’s Space Science Lab discussed the interrelationships among magnetism, solar wind and the evolution of planetary climate over time. Convection within Earth’s inner molten core generates our internal magnetic field, which shields us from the solar wind and generates the aurora borealis near the north and south poles. Without this protection, solar radiation would likely prove destructive to our radio and television communications, GPS systems, power grids, satellites and aircraft, as well as our atmosphere.
Earth’s atmosphere generates enough pressure for water to remain liquid on our surface, which enables life as we know it to exist. Mars currently has an atmosphere only about one percent as dense as Earth’s, but the composition of some of the planet’s rocks suggests that liquid water once flowed there. So scientists speculate that Mars once had a thicker, more insulating atmosphere. In addition, while Mars does not have a planet-wide, global magnetic field the way Earth does, researchers sometimes observe small magnetic fields in the rock near the Martian south pole. This suggests the planet used to have a stronger field and likely a hotter core.

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Poetry from Halima bint Ayuba

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Streets

after the poems “These Streets” and “39,000 Feet” by Jose Angel Araguz

I sit by the window reading your map of those streets —
seems strange our paths did not overlap on those streets.

Remember the wind, how it harried the trees
panicked leaves, made twigs snap on those streets?

I recall the slick smack of tires through puddles,
refused to look up at cars rolling past on those streets.

I watched my old tennis shoes, counted their steps —
echoes of heart-beats, their flat flapping slaps on those streets.

I tacked between sidewalks, keeping to shadows,
dodged lit entries like traps on those streets.

Moving cars, lighted buildings — no, I was not alone —
I did not hide sorrow, but sorrow hid me on those streets.

By the window, Halima reads, tracing the lines
between nowhere and back on those streets.

–Laura M Kaminski, (Halima bint Ayuba)

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Poetry from Harmony Wicker

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Twilight

I will not apologize. My sorries and I didn’t-mean-tos have no place in your mind. I hope you will forget me. The tabloids and online press claim you have. I hope it’s true. Many say I am sad. Bitter, towards your new girl. But, the thing they have placed in the back of their minds, is that it was me, I, who kissed him. I took the risk. And sure, we were in love. Or maybe that was just an illusion. A mask we put on without even knowing. A way to get the tickets to sell faster. So that when all the teenage girls and their moms watched the movie, they would all think, “It’s not just a fantasy. They’re really dating.” And soon, fans believed that just like the movie, our love was eternal. But we are not immortal. And our love was never real. It was just an illusion, just a movie ticket, just something to occupy my thoughts. So I hope you have forgotten about me. Because I have forgotten about you.

Poetry from Anna Geiger

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Early Morning Treasures

There with the criss­cross veins
from thighs to daddy’s
too ­big jagged-edged
socks tucked into shoes
used to be white but smudged with
dry ­mud dry­ blood
caked into gum­-splattered cement
kicked up in your run for treasures
hidden in early morning trash bins
by the left side of the road
your nails coated with food scraps
found beneath the newspapers
last week digging
too late too late today
they’ve all been cleared out
other boys kicking up city dust
their once white shoes
pounding down on gum­-splattered cement
with early­ morning trash­bin treasures

 

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Essay from Ayokunle Adeleye

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Lessons from Ife

Elsewhere, “the price of freedom is watchfulness”; back home, the price we pay to still be on this side of the here and now is fear. Legendarily, it is the fear of the future, the fear of the unknown; but in more recent times, there is likewise the fear of the law… For we are aware of the laws protecting us, our being, our freedoms, the respect others give to us; as we are also aware of the (not so) subtle ways that these laws have been undermined, sidelined, and crushed- and all in one breath- by the very ones we allowed to be in the position to safeguard our sovereignty, and who do not…

We’re back, or so it seems, to when it was said, and understandably so, that to (admit one that one did) witness an event (or crime) is to risk imprisonment, and for six months: Ó s’ojú mi, èwòn òsù méfà ni! That is how much our apathy has cost us and brought us. That is what we get for hiding in our rooms while the votes are cast; for looking away while the votes are counted; for not being involved in the process that represents us, and in the way our representatives are suggested, fielded, and appointed. And that is why they have gone rabid…

So that what currently obtains is the (illegal) detention of opposers, their liberal labeling as enemies of progress, and the graphic instillment of fear: fear of the lawkeepers, fear of the lawmakers, and, summarily, fear of the law itself. So that my people have learnt to watch with a straight face the petrifying putrefaction by and of the putrescent pigs we passively preferred, by not voting for the man of the people, as they glut glibly on our Commonwealth. So that we have learnt to turn to God in all things, even the mundane ones.

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Short piece from Gary Berg

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His Territory was Europe

His territory was Europe. Many assumed he was lucky, but it was work. The salesman spoke only English. He usually traveled town to town by train, and stayed in mid-level hotels filled with other businessmen. The salesman knew all the tricks of the trade, how to pass quickly through security in airports around the world, how to get into the best executive clubs at airports and hotels, how to upgrade, earn points and discounts, how to elude paying for meals, and what receipts to show accounting on return.

On this trip to Germany, he checked into the Frankfurt airport hotel, which was filled with traveling salesmen. He looked around the lounge and saw versions of salesmen, young and old, staring into flat beer at the end of another sweaty day. They moved silently room-to-room, expressionless, broad-faced smiles kept in reserve, saved for the customers. The hotel was a place of off-stage dimness where the businessmen practiced pitches, vigorous handshakes, and friendly backslaps.

The sales game was alchemy, turning customers into buyers. Sometimes the salesman was the information gatherer, and would start with, “I’m doing some research and wonder if you might have a moment to spare for me.” Or, “I’m trying to understand your industry and have a couple basic questions.” No matter what the response the research led to an observation, then to a product. Other times he came as a prophet of the future. “A paradigm shift,” a “new world” was coming. He had seen the future and it involves merchandise. Talking about the future was a particularly good tactic in Germany.

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Essay from Ayokunle Adeleye

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When the Customer Is ALWAYS Right. PART I: ETISALAT NIGERIA

 

I loved Etisalat. In fact, at a time when Nigerians have mastered the art of subscribing to multiple networks so as to buffer one with the other, I have become strictly Etisalat, buying SIM after SIM from the same network provider. Believing wrongly and ruefully that I was being ‘Naija for life’, and flaunting my network like nothing else mattered. Well, until they too showed me their other side.

 

Here’s what happened.

 

I see the advert for credit-to-bonus conversion each time I recharge. You know the scheme, don’t you?… you dial a code and N200 credit becomes N600 bonus valid for 7 days, N1000 becomes N2500 valid for 14 days, and so on. Sounds interesting, right? But if you have dealt with these networks before, you will have been taught that ‘nothing goes for nothing’. So, I finally decided to find out more about it. Knowledge is key na. Especially in this era of carrot-and-stick.

 

The Customer Care lady that attended to me said the scheme only works on EasyLite 4.0 and told me about the various options and their validity periods. Then she assumed I wanted in on the promo, perhaps because I sounded interested and all, and instantly migrated me from my lovable EasyCliq. Not with my consent, not even with my knowledge.

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