That's a lotta money!

I learned a new word yesterday: "yotta". Strictly speaking, it's not a word; it's the SI prefix indicating 10 rasied to the power of 24 (abbr: "Y"). That's a thousand times bigger than the largest SI prefix I previously knew about (zeta), and is currently the largest official prefix. Really, it's a useful unit to have. For example, the power output of the Sun is 383YW. By comparison, the province of Ontario consumes about 25GW on a hot day when everyone is running their air conditioners. Which means the Sun is equivalent to about 15 peta-Ontarios.

Borderline-Asperger geeks like to know these things. We'd be loads of fun at cocktail parties, except we never go to any because we hate people. (That, and no one ever invites us more than once. I don't care; you're all boring. Yes, all of you.)

The way I found this out is weird: it seems that, in what has to be the record-holder for ridiculous damages claims, someone is suing the Bank of America for 1784 billion trillion dollars. Yes, that's 1.784 yotta-bux.

That's a lotta bux (as in: waaaay more than are in the picture at right).

OK, just to raise the intelligence quotient of this post above of the yocto-level, here's Monty Python's Money Song. Enjoy:

A Mighty Caterer Is Our God

If you're old enough to remember The Cross and the Switchblade, then you know that David Wilkerson (played by Pat Boone in the movie) is the Pentecostal preacher who in 1958 moved from rural Pennsylvania to New York City to work with troubled youth. As I recall, it's quite a story -- if you're inclined to take the word of someone who claims God speaks to him every now and then.

But I bet you didn't know that Wilkerson is still around, and runs the Times Square Church. And according to the WingNutDaily, God still tells him stuff from time to time. Like on the night before 9/11:

Then Wilkerson felt God telling him something that seemed rather bizarre. He felt God telling him to make sandwiches – lots of sandwiches. What were they for? Who would eat them? That part wasn't clear, but his church did what they believed God was telling them anyway.

And on the 10th of September they stayed up all night making hundreds and hundreds of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. By morning they had about 2,000 sandwiches. At 8:46 a.m. the first plane hit the World Trade Center and Times Square Church was ready to feed and minister to rescue workers and victims of our nation's worst attack.

Yep, there's a reason for Brayton's Law, which states that when you see "WorldNetDaily Exclusive", it means that what follows is something so colossally idiotic that no one else would print it. And unsurprisingly, the story turns out to be bogus (as the added Editor's Note says -- but not before blogs all over the Christian Loonosphere picked it up! Google on "wilkerson sandwich" to see what I mean).

But never mind that detail; let's just run for a moment with the sandwich story as-is: 3000 people are about to die horribly, and what does the Almighty do about it? Gets a holy roller church to make fracking sandwiches. Like, it didn't occur to him that just maybe, tipping off the FBI with the names of the hijackers and the flight numbers might be more useful? I mean, it's great that Wilkerson's church pitched in to help in a terrible crisis -- but wouldn't it be a whole lot better if that crisis were averted?

Does it not occur to any of the fans of this sort of story that, really, this is a piss-poor waste of omniscience? What is wrong with these people?

Hat tip: my favorite source for this kind of thing.

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Update @ 13/3/09 11:33pm: Well, ain't that interesting. Above, I link to posts on two other blogspot blogs. And within an hour or so, Blogger automatically added the trackbacks over there (I checked).

Today they're gone. Both of them. (And the comment I dropped at Debbie's place hasn't appeared either).

Do you suppose those folks just don't like links to places that are, well, less than properly reverent? Or maybe Blogger just got confused by the re-title and re-post operation. Yeah, that must be it....
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Upperdate @17/3/09: I partially take it back. For the record: Debbie posted my comment.

A Fate Worse Than Death?

OK, suppose you have a heart attack. And the paramedics arrive and start doing CPR -- chest compressions to keep the brain perfused with oxygenated blood. They have to be done regularly, about 100 times per minute. So, how might you give a paramedic a rhythm to follow, to keep them on time? Well, one obvious way would be music; preferably something with a good strong beat. In fact, specifically (and ironically): the 1977 Bee Gees' hit Stayin' Alive.

Frankly, if I come to in the ambulance and the first thing I hear is Disco, my first thought will be that I died and went to Hell.

Woo far and near

Princess Martha Louise of Norway believes she can read people's feelings and talk to angels. She has also opened the "Astarte Education Centre" (page is in Norwegian and I can't find an online translator) to promote alternative therapies. Fortunately for Norway, she's only fourth in line to the throne. At least she's not the heir apparent, unlike a certain well-known New-Ager and alt-med fan who is first in line to become titular Head of State of my country.

It's enough to make one become an anti-monarchist - until I look south and realize that electing one's HoS doesn't necessarily provide much quality assurance.

Much closer to home: a couple in Quebec are refusing chemotherapy for their 3yo son who has cancer of the brain and bone marrow, opting instead to feed him organic vegetables. Organic veggies are great (provided you understand the nutritional values -- like having beans with your cereal to complete the protein), but they're not a substitute for chemo. Regular readers of Respectful Insolence have seen Orac take on cancer alt-therapy woo before (specifically the Cherrix and Wernecke cases). I can almost see his lights blinking in medical indignation from here.....

Technorati picks up a link to the story from Be Lambic or Green (which appears to be written by a British ex-pat currently living in Montreal). What I find noteworthy is the very first comment -- posted a mere two hours after the original post -- making the predictable accusation that the blogger is a doctor in the pay of Big Pharma (a few mouse-clicks would have revealed that he is, in fact, a computer guy).

I'm jealous, though -- what do I have to do to attract some good cranks? That's what this blog really needs!

Crime and Punishment

One of the unpleasant facts of life is that a small proportion of men are creeps who go around harrassing women at random -- exposing themselves, making lewd comments, etc. Men who do that need some appropriate combination of restraint and treatment. However, I have to admit that this guy has come up with a, um, novel pervert pitch. He approaches his female victims and requests that they kick him in the groin.

Seems to me his crime contains its own punishment ;-).

Paris In The The Slammer?

When I was a wee kitten, I came to a realization: you humans exist to provide me with entertainment. I intend to use this space occasionally to comment on some of your more amusing follies. I call this feature "Couch Czar Stupid", and this is my first post.

A few years back one of my humans was regularly getting spams advertising a "Paris Hilton Sex Party Video". Pop-culturally oblivious as he is, for the longest time he assumed this referred to an orgy at a hotel in the French capital. It was only quite a bit later that he learned, no, there is an actual person called Paris Hilton (who is in fact a member of the family that started the hotel chain).

Really, he didn't mind not knowing. He'd have been quite happy to live out his life never having heard of her. He didn't really need to know that there exists this spoiled rich brat who has now been convicted of driving with a suspended license, after a previous conviction for impaired driving, and sentenced to a 45-day jail term.

The Couch Czar Stupid part is this: There are some humans who feel that their "mundane lives" would be massively incomplete without Paris -- even for a few weeks -- that she provides them with hope and beauty and excitement, and have got up a petition for clemency to California Governor Schwarzenegger, to grant poor Paris a Get Out Of Jail Free card. When it comes to celebs and their fans, you can't make this stuff up. Anyone who needs Party Girl Hilton to give their lives meaning desperately needs to try this. Or even just chase spiders. Really.

Fortunately, not all you humans have gone mad (fortunately for you that is -- I wouldn't care so long as you keep feeding me), and there is also now a counter-petition, asking the Governator to stay out of it. However there is an even better reply to Hilton's silliness: inspired by the circumstances surrounding her legal misadventures, the same sculptor who previously brought us controversial depictions of Hillary Clinton and Britney Spears has now created Paris Hilton Autopsy. It depicts Hilton as a naked cadaver, laid out for post-mortem exam on the coroner's table, still clutching a cellphone and champagne glass. The sculpture even comes apart to reveal internal organs, and is accompanied by an anti-drunk-driving campaign.

At last: something useful comes from Paris Hilton's life.