Bayram Cigerli Blog

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Rudolph the Parasitically-Infected Reindeer

Just in case you were wondering why Rudolph's nose is red....

an abstract from PubMed

Epidemiology of reindeer parasites. Halvorsen O. Parasitol Today. 1986 Dec;2(12):334-9.

Every Christmas we sing about Rudolph the red-nosed Reindeer, but do we give much thought to why his nose is red? The general consensus is that Rudolf has caught a cold, but as far as I know no proper diagnosis has been made of his abnormal condition. I think that, rather than having a cold, Rudolf is suffering from a parasitic infection of his respiratory system. To some this may seem a bit far-fetched as one would not expect an animal living with Santa Claus at the North Pole to be plagued by parasites, but I shall show otherwise.

(as posted on The World's Fair)

Robert Barnwell Rhett

Today is the birthday of Robert Barnwell Rhett, born December 21, 1800, in Beaufort, South Carolina. Rhett was one of the most extreme "fire-eaters," a term for pro-secessionist southerners. He was upset when South Carolinians accepted the Compromise of 1850, which defused sectional tensions for a decade--he was ready to leave the Union then--and he spent the rest of the 1850s pushing for southern separation. (He is sometimes called "the father of secession.")

When others in S.C. caught up with his sentiments and voted to secede after the election of Abraham Lincoln, Rhett wrote the "Address of the People of South Carolina to the Southern States," inviting them to join S.C. in a confederacy of the slaveholding states. In this document, Rhett compared the northern states to Great Britain a century earlier, exercising a growing despotism over the American colonies. He concluded with the following:
We rejoice, that other nations should be satisfied with their institutions. Contentment, is a great element of happiness, with nations as with individuals. We, are satisfied with ours. If they prefer a system of industry, in which capital and labor are in perpetual conflict--and chronic starvation keeps dow, the natural increase of population--and a man is worked out in eight years--and the law ordains, that children shall be worked only ten hours a day--and the sabre and bayonet are the instruments of order--be it so. It is their affair, not ours.

We prefer, however, our system of industry, by which labor and capital are identified in interest, and capital, therefore, protects labor--by which our population doubles every twenty years--by which starvation is unknown, and abundance crowns the land--by which order is preserved by an unpaid police, and many fertile regions of the earth, where the white man cannot labor, are brought into usefulness, by the labor of the African, and the whole world is blessed by our own productions. All we demand of other peoples is, to be let alone to work out our own high destinies. United together, and we must be the most independent, as we are among the most important, of the nations of the world. United together, and we require no other instrument to conquer peace, than our beneficent productions. United together, and we must be a great, free and prosperous people, whose renown must spread throughout the civilized world, and pass down, we trust, to the remotest ages.

(from A Fire-Eater Remembers: The Confederate Memoir of Robert Barnwell Rhett, ed. by William C. Davis)
Rhett died in Louisiana in 1876 and was returned to South Carolina for burial in Charleston's Magnolia Cemetery.

Stranded!

I am still here. Stuck in New Orleans. Not that I don't like this place, but I really had my heart set on going home today, hanging out with my buddy Kara and seeing the roommates at the house. I had a flight out for today at 2 pm. But I don't anymore. This is a classic example of "do as I say, not as I do". I told Lea when she was buying her ticket - DO NOT go through Denver!!! She listened to me. But somehow, when I went to buy my ticket, I was caught up in the greed of finding the shortest flight, the flight that arrived just when someone could pick me up and the flight that allowed me to get some work done in the morning and see my friends in the evening. And guess where that flight connected at? DENVER! I have been banging my head against the wall all morning just thinking about what a hypocrite (and see where it got me!) I am.

Actually, I have not been banging my head against the wall all morning. I have been running around like a mad woman. After sitting on the phone yesterday for hours wading through the monotonous automated voice that is the United "help" line and finally getting put through to an agent only to get the busy signal (about 487 times!), I finally decided that the way to figure this out was to go to the airport. So this morning at 4:45, I went to the airport and stood in the premier line (which is supposedly faster) behind (of course!) a lady with about 400 large bags which all had to be weighed and checked (hello santa!), a relative in a wheelchair and then, lo and behold, about 4 other relatives who cut in line with her at the last minute.

I finally got to the counter only to be told by the lady that there are "abosolutely NO flights today or tomorrow". Tears sprung from my eyes for a second before I swallowed them back and asked her again about getting to San Francisco. "Oh...San Francisco. I thought you meant Denver." WHEW! But still, there were no flights even to San Francisco unless I wanted to wait standby all day. Luckily, after about 20 minutes of searching, she found a flight early tomorrow morning (thank you lady!), and after being ticketed, I turned around and walked out. As I was walking out, a lady in the premier line cheered. I thought that it was pretty weird that she cheered, until I realized I didn't care why she was cheering. I felt like cheering too... I am going home! Come hell or high water or a crazy winter blizzard... I am going home!

new office!

I'm in our new building in my new office! Woohoo!

with a window and a huge desk! Woohoo!

and about 2/3 of the bookshelves I need! Boohoo!

But that's all right. It's all good.

One thing, though....

My first office here was a tiny room in the library. No drawers, a few shelves-- and I ended up with a box of stuff I could never unpack, so I slipped it under the desk. But that was OK, because I then moved to a bigger office with the rest of the department, except when I started unpacking my boxes, there was one that never got unpacked, so I slid it under the desk. And then we moved to another building about five years ago, I got a larger office, but there was still one box that ended up under the desk. I was determined this time, and so over the last few weeks I emptied that box, getting ready for this move. And yesterday and today, I unloaded all my boxes into my new office, and.... sigh.

Yep, there's one under the desk.

City Lights

Current Location: Southport - Surfer’s Paradise, Gold Coast, Australia
Current Position: 27º56.81' S 153º25.39' E
Next Destination: Working our way down the coast to Sydney … maybe!


I don’t think of myself as a city girl … actually anything but. And I know Chris is far from a hip city boy. No, we both seem to prefer the small towns, isolated villages, and “in the middle of nowhere” locations. So I was surprised to find myself extremely excited as we worked our way down the channels, towards the towering high rises of Southport & Surfer’s Paradise. A city, I was thinking, a real city … at last! It seemed unreal to have Billabong anchored within site of the huge buildings and rushing traffic.

Anxious to explore we wolfed down lunch and headed ashore. But where to begin? The streets ran in every direction and the shops were endless. We ended up at a gigantic indoor mall. The food court alone took up an entire floor and offered more cuisines then we’ve seen in our entire three years cruising. It also finally dawned on us that is was almost Christmas … sale advertisements and Christmas decorations surrounded us (we even got to see Santa!). I instantly got shopper’s fever – not good for someone with no income! Not that it mattered, I was dragged away as we headed to the marine store across town (oh joy). The marine store was not a total flop though, as across the street was a fancy specialty food market, where we finally replenished our stock of aged gouda.

That night we relaxed in the cockpit, watching the sun set and the lights flicker on around us. It was a fantastic site as the city lights came to life. We were in a perfect location … part of city, yet far enough away to enjoy a calm relaxing environment. I was beginning to like it here!

We had heard this area described as being similar to both South Florida and Anaheim. So true! The theme parks are abundant (in fact we are anchored within swimming distance to Sea World); including a Ripley’s, a Wax Museum, and of course a Hard Rock Cafe. Multi-million dollar homes line the water ways, where pleasure boats are docked, and high rise apartment buildings tower over everything.

On our second day we took the dinghy in and cruised through the waterways, jaws open in awe at both the high rises and the expensive homes. We explored the touristy area of Surfer’s Paradise … where Chris made the mistake of taking me down a street lined with Gucci, Prada, Tiffany, and other high-end shops I hadn’t seen (or worn) since cruising!!! I showed excellent restraint though – mostly by moving quickly!

With our boat in a secure, calm & peaceful location, and the city surrounding us, we find ourselves considering staying a bit. Perhaps through the holidays, maybe even longer. I suppose that sooner or later we’ll tire of the city and people, but for now it feels like its own kind of paradise!

So Help Me God--update

A couple of days ago, I wrote on Judge Roy Moore's comments about Keith Ellison, the first Muslim to be elected to Congress. I pointed out that there is no contemporary evidence to support Moore's assertion that George Washington added "So help me God" to his oath of office, and in fact there's no evidence that any president did so until 1881 (Chester A. Arthur).

Little did I know that Michael Newdow, America's most famous atheist, had already written and performed a song about exactly that fact. Ray Soller sent me a link to Newdow's website, which has a short and wonderful video of Newdow singing "So Help Me God (He Didn't Say It)."

Thanks, Ray!

Day 15: This is Not a Sunday Stroll Ladies!

Sunday is the day of the long run and we usually do it at Audubon Park, which is nice becuase there is a running trail. The trail is a two mile loop or you can extend it and go up and around to the river and it is about a four mile loop. It is really a beautiful run and it makes me wish that it wasn't winter; it gets so dark so early here now; I have to run inside on the weekdays, but every week we look forward to Sunday for our outside run.

After we run, we go to the grocery store and buy massive quantities of food. Then we go to my house and gorge ourselves silly until we can't move anymore and watch silly movies (last night we subjected Noel to "How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days") with our top button of our pants unbuttoned and our bellies hanging low.

Our gym teacher, Ms. Bissell, used to yell at us in class if we ran too slow. She would say, "Come on ladies; pick up the pace! Swing those arms! Move it, move it! This is not a Sunday stroll ladies!" Yesterday my target number was four. Four miles I had to run. I wasn't sure if I could but thanks to Noel, who runs a very consistent pace, and to Ms. Bissell, whose voice was in my head the whole time, I actually ran five miles instead of four.

WEEK TWO RECAP:

Target Miles: 12
Actual Miles Run: 13
Laps Run at The Gym: 88
Blisters: 2
Ice Creams Eaten to Maintain Energy Levels: 5

Time's Person of the Year

Time Magazine has just named you its "Person of the Year" for 2006. That's right, you.

Congratulations!

more carnivals than you can shake a stick at

Posted for your reading pleasure: the best of the recent blogosphere.

Carnival of the Vanities # 221

History Carnival #45

Teaching Carnival #18

Roy Moore on Keith Ellison

A number of people, most prominently Dennis Prager, have assailed Keith Ellison, Dem.-Minn., the first Muslim elected to the U.S. Congress. None of that has bothered me as much as the recent babble from Roy Moore, Alabama's "Ten Commandments judge." Where Prager simply disagreeed with Ellison's decision to be sworn in on a copy of the Qur'an, Moore goes a step further in a piece on WorldNetDaily: "Muslim Ellison should not sit in Congress."

Judge Moore's knowledge of history is as bad as his understanding of the First Amendment's separation of church and state. "In 1789," he writes, "George Washington, our first president under the Constitution, took his oath to 'preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God.'" A number of people who have actually studied this (such as J. L. Bell) say that there's no evidence that Washington added "So help me God" to the end of the Constitutionally-prescribed oath. Like the myth of young George chopping down the cherry tree, the story of Washington saying "So help me God" first appeared long after his death (in this case, in the 1850s). In fact, there's no evidence that any president said "So help me God" until Chester A. Arthur did so in 1881.

But it's Moore's next sentence that I find most infuriating: "Placing his hand on the Holy Scriptures, Washington recognized the God who had led our Pilgrim fathers on their journey across the Atlantic in 1620...." Our Pilgrim fathers? Who is he talking about? As far as I know, there are no Pilgrims among my ancestors. The one ancestor I know who goes back even nearly that far was Joseph Surratt, my eight-times great grandfather, who was born in France in 1659 and died in Maryland, founded by the Catholic Calvert family, in 1715. Judge Moore's ancestors, those Pilgrims, weren't very big on Catholics.

Joseph Surratt is just one of the 1,024 ancestors from my family tree at the ten-generations-back level. Except for that line, I know none of them beyond the great-grandparent stage. I wonder who those other 1,023 were. Maybe some were from Rhode Island, founded by Roger Williams.

Does Judge Moore remember Roger Williams? Williams was expelled from the colony of Massachusetts Bay in 1636 because he refused to toe the Puritan line. His problem was not that he wasn’t religious enough (the historian Perry Miller called Williams “the most passionately religious of men”) or that his beliefs were unorthodox (he was as strict a Calvinist as any of the Puritan leaders); what got Williams into trouble was that he didn’t like others telling him what to believe, how to worship, and so on, and he told the colony’s leaders that his religion was his business, not theirs.

He left Massachusetts and founded Rhode Island, based on the idea “that a most flourishing civil state may stand and best be maintained with a full liberty in religious concernments.” In other words, the new colony would exercise complete religious liberty; freedom of conscience would exist for everyone, including nonbelievers.

Since religion is a personal decision, Williams said, government should stay out. “All civil states,” he wrote, “are essentially civil, and therefore they are not judges, governors, or defenders of the spiritual or Christian state and worship.” Or, as Williams said in his most memorable statement on the topic, “Forced worship stinks in God’s nostrils.”

In 1639, Williams established the first Baptist church in America, based on the Baptist principle of “soul liberty,” the idea that God instilled within each person the freedom to make his own decisions in religious matters. No one has the right, Williams said, to impose his faith on another. (This is why Baptists reject infant baptism: everyone must make his own decision about God, so baptism has to wait until the child is old enough to make religious decisions for himself.)

Maybe some of my forefathers and -mothers were from Pennsylvania, established by William Penn, a Quaker, as a colony that would welcome religious dissenters, among others. Judge Moore's Pilgrim fathers, along with their Puritan neighbors in New England, didn't care much for Quakers. Who can blame them? After all, Quakers have held some awfully radical ideas, such as the notion that we all possess an "inner light," a bit of God within us, and therefore all of us--male and female, black and white, rich and poor--are equal. Being a Quaker became a capital offense in New England, and in 1660, Mary Dyer and two others were hanged because they refused to "repent" for that crime.

Maybe some of my 1,024 10th-generation ancestors were Pilgrims. Who knows? and Who cares? This isn't an anti-Pilgrim piece; rather, it's a reminder of the religious diversity that has existed here for a long time, and a reminder that Judge Moore's suggestion about Keith Ellison violates not only the Constitutional ban on religious tests for officeholders, but our history as well.