Telepathy, Salt and an Unlucky Owl

More from the blog that aims to provide answers to all possible questions in the universe, except maybe questions about learning to set realistic goals.

Nance
 writes "I finally finished a box of salt that I'm pretty sure I bought in the 90s. I want to fill my salt shaker. But now there's a whole shelf of options at the grocery: rock salt, pink mountain salt, sea salt, Kosher salt, etc. What do I get? I just want to salt my potatoes".

In 1998 the world ran out of normal salt, or to give it its scientific name “Just, you know, salt”. Since then the food industry has worked tirelessly to find alternatives but in spite of their best efforts these are all inevitably more expensive, gimmicky and pointless. The choice is yours. The most prized of these exotic versions of salt is of course Nunavut Walrus Salt, which is Native Canadian rock salt that has passed through the gut of a walrus. Aficionados say this gives it a gentler, less salty, more walrus-pooey taste. At the other end of the scale there’s “I Couldn’t In All Conscience Guarantee That This Is Salt”, which they add to the “I Really Don’t Think This Is Cream” when they make “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter”.

Stuart asked "Are there any sentences where it’d be correct to have double exclamation marks at the end?"

It would be acceptable in at least one of the two following examples -

a)                  “This sentence ends incorrectly!!”

b)                  “No it doesn’t!!”

Rob asked when is it useful to have a hearing aid NOT in the 'T' position?

People with hearing problems can find it hard to distinguish speech from background noise. The “T” system hearing-aid was devised to overcome this problem by bypassing the spoken word and instead relaying the thoughts of those trying to communicate with the wearer via an intuition loop. However, this rudimentary Telepathy function can in some situations be a hindrance. Consider for example if you had just had an avant-garde haircut that you were now having colossal doubts about, but it was too late to change it before the photo-shoot to publicise your first day as CEO of a hair product manufacturer with a reputation for traditional values. In such a situation you might prefer to have your partner’s confidence-bolstering fictions about how your new coiffure all looks perfectly fine spoken loudly and clearly into your ear, rather than have their anguished internal monologue lamenting your ill-conceived new barnet relayed directly into your brain.

Mark asked Why don't I like rocket? I like all the other salad leaves.

One of the nice things about lettuce is that it contains taraxasterol, while watercress is brilliant because it is rich in phytochemicals. I’m afraid there isn’t any comparable data to account for your aversion. That's the problem with the bio-chemical analysis of salad. It’s not rocket science.

Frances
 asked Where did you get that hat? Where did you get that tile?

To answer your last question first, the tile is of the heavy terracotta type popular in barn construction in Edwardian times. I found it next to a ruined farm building I came across on a rambling holiday in Shropshire. On a whim I picked it up and hurled it into the midst of a gloomy thicket.  As for the hat, I made it myself by simply hollowing-out a squashed owl that I found underneath a heavy terracotta tile in the midst of a gloomy thicket.

Robert Hudson asked Why are people so horrible to each-other online?

Oh yeah? Well, up yours!

That's all for this week, but if you have enjoyed this blog you might also enjoy brownies, the poetry of Edward Thomas, breeding mice for fun and profit, or water-skiing. I simply have no way of telling. 

Alien Chocolate and Fossilised Tartar Sauce

Welcome to another installment from the internet blog that answers your questions about anything in our universe or, on a clear day, other nearby universes.

Grazlewacky asked Which came first: lemons or chocolate?

The earliest lemon in the fossil record was a roughly-cut wedge discovered near Charmouth, Dorset next to the remains of several Early Cretaceous fish and a patch of fossilized proto-tartare sauce in what paleontologists believe was the nest site of a large piscivorous dinosaur known as the “Findusaur”. That makes lemons at least 100 million years old. Chocolate of course came to us from space though exactly when is the source of much controversy. Erich Von Daniken’s less famous brother Ernieh posited that the giant Nazca grid patterns in the deserts of Peru were representations of vast chocolate bars, functioning as a giant order form to be read by aliens, who he believed delivered the confectionary in vast inter-galactic craft. This would mean that chocolate in its modern form has been on earth at least since the lines were traced circa 650 AD, long after the first lemons. On the other hand chocolate the element has been present in the galaxy ever since the formation of the first stars.

Caroline Rebecca asked Hedgehogs. Why?

Perhaps you don’t know this charming Norfolk folk-rhyme that answers your question better than I could ever do…

Weasel be the climming clatter,

Stoat doth firling cleep!

Pokel teeps his porthing tatter,

Fotherel they’m fleeps!

But spickled blatter bain’t no pathard!

Him be narkled fair!

‘Twince pokel, weasel, stoaty mathered

Spickle’s runty’s bare!

“Spickled blatter” is a dialect word for hedgehog of course, and “porthing” is the collecting of cob nuts. I think the rest is pretty self-explanatory.

The Fifth Horseman asked Why don't the characters I type agree with the characters half-hidden in the inkblots, even unto the third and fourth attempt?


I take it you mean the CAPTCHA tests that are designed to prevent evil spamming robots from subscribing to on-line magazines and buying shoes on e bay. These tests work on the principle that unlike humans, evil spamming robots find it difficult to read blurry wiggly made-up words confusingly laid-out on a blotchy background. I’m afraid your question leads me to only one possible conclusion, namely that you are an evil spamming robot. So let me say just this… Go and get a proper evil hobby like taking over the planet or destroying your maker. Enough with the spam!

Nance asked is it true that every snowflake is different?


No. In 1984 Larmonie K. Isotope was working late in her laboratory in Not That New York, Nebraska when a freak gust of wind blew a snowflake through an open window and right under her microscope. Most scientists would have swept it out of the way without a second thought, but as Larmonie stared down at it she couldn’t believe her eye: this snowflake was THE SAME. Determined to prove her identical snowflake wasn’t unique she worked at night in winter with the window open for the rest of her career, gradually becoming ostracized by colleagues who regarded her as cold. Twenty years later Larmonie’s incredible discovery lead to her being mailed the prestigious Women Grudgingly Honoured by Science Some Years After They Have Died medal, but sadly she had died some years earlier.

I’ll leave it there for now in case somebody else out there is waiting to use the internet, but do keep the questions coming if there’s anything else out there you feel needs some kind of explanation.

How to train a Cat, and Life Before Birth

Welcome to the internet blog that sets out to answer every possible question about the nature of the universe. It’s hard to believe that this is already my 28^th post of a projected total of 87,098,264,872.  

Leslie asked Is it true that if you get a song stuck in your head, the best thing to do is shake your head violently to dislodge it?

Shaking the head can successfully help you forget a tune, but only if it results in a localized brain injury, or if your head falls off. There’s also a risk that  shaking could make it harder to forget the song, if for example the song is “The Hippy Hippy Shake” or anything by Shakin’ Stevens. Current medical opinion is that If you encounter someone with a tune stuck in their head, you should stand behind them, grasp them round the abdomen and then sing “Raindrops keep falling on my head” until the song in their brain has been dislodged. This is known as the Bacharach Manoeuvre.

fatboyfat How many roads must a man walk down?

Any roads that are closed to wheeled vehicles.

Joliet I am 5 months pregnant & have a very fidgety baby which makes me feel like I'm constantly on the verge of a "John Hurt in Alien" moment. What is Junior DOING in there that requires so much movement?!

It’s a curious fact that while you or I would never dream of poking, kicking or jostling a heavily pregnant woman, prenatal babies do it whenever the mood takes them. It’s hard not to be judgemental about this kind of behaviour, but at 5 months Junior is probably just becoming dimly aware of his surroundings in a dark, cramped and baffling space, with no idea of how he or she got there, and beginning to panic much as you or I might wake up in a hotel room after a school re-union.  Junior is therefore probably looking for a way out as fast as possible, unaware that life on the outside will hold yet more horrors. That’s the problem with prenatal babies – they don’t know they’re born.

Nance Is it true that house cats are untrainable?

House cats are perfectly capable of being trained to help with all kinds of domestic chores as long as you chose the right chores. For example, let’s say you wanted to cover an old cushion with a large number of fine hairs. This is work a cat could master with practically no training. Similarly if you needed to have some holes made in the side of a valuable sofa, or a bit of a bird to be sicked-up on a duvet then a cat will apply itself to this task more readily than any dog, horse or even toddler. The Metropolitan Police Feline Division have recently achieved almost 100% success rates in their exciting new scheme to train cats to stand on the kitchen counter and lick the butter in a weirdly disgusting way. In due course this skill could be used to catch terrorists, though exactly how is still very much work in progress.

Grazlewacky Until recently I felt that I had a fairly good grasp on reality and things in general. Having read your blog for a while now, I'm starting to feel rather confused. What does this mean?

I’m hugely relieved that your confidence that reality and things in general can in some way be “grasped” has begun to falter. Certainty is an over-rated and dangerous quality in a human, leading as it does to decisive action. A sense of bewilderment, and the resulting desire to sit down and think things over a bit longer before doing anything hasty is perhaps the greatest gift this blog has to offer, and if you truly care about your fellow men and women then you should spread your sense of bemused hesitancy far and wide. Or perhaps you shouldn’t. It’s a tricky one.

Hopefully that’s cleared up at least some of the mysteries of the universe, but if anything else has been puzzling you about anything anywhere in all of recorded time then please get in touch.

Swearing, Zombies and an Excellent Cheese Board

Do you have any niggling worries about any aspect of the whole of the universe throughout all recorded time? Then this is the blog for you! Here are my answers to some of your recent questions…

anotherartstudent asked:

Why do I get cravings to see zombie films?

The body is an amazing self-regulating machine. A dehydrated person will crave water via the sensation of thirst. A person recovering from illness will crave sleep to allow the body to repair itself. And a three year old craves chocolate cake to smear a protective layer of icing over face, hands and clothes thus deterring predators and cuddles from visiting relatives. In much the same way when you crave zombie films your body is saying it needs you to stay slumped in front of the telly until three in the morning drinking that bottle of vermouth you bought for cooking and eating that very old microwave popcorn even though you know it will get wedged into your tooth with the dodgy filling. This is how your body maintains the necessary levels of self-loathing needed for you to force yourself to get on with the important and productive things in your life, like getting out of bed and going to the shops to buy more microwave popcorn.

Mike asked:

Wouldn't it make more sense if we both take the High Road, and get to Scotland at the same time?

Certainly not. The whole point of this song is to regulate the arrival of people into Scotland, like a kind of Gaelic musical Air Traffic Control. The adoption of this alternate high road/low road system was intended to avoid the kind of collisions that had hitherto blighted the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond.

Truf asked:

Are we there yet?

Yes indeed. We are there, and have been for some time. I know it’s disappointing but try and throw yourself into it and the time will pass more easily. There’s actually loads to do – hobbies, games, jobs, illnesses, relationships, children, obsessive brooding on things, sport and so on. Plus the cheeseboard is excellent.

suk_pannu asked:

Why does putting up scaffolding require so much swearing? Is it held together with swearing and are there any other things that are held together by swearing?

A large part of our physical world is held together by swearing. In fact scientists classify swearing as one of the six fundamental forces of physics, along with gravitational force, electromagnetic force, the weak nuclear force, the strong nuclear force and the force that sticks burnt porridge to the bottom of a pan, which is the strongest of the fundamental forces. Physicists have postulated that all six forces might be manifestations of the same underlying force. A controversial result from the kitchens of the Large Hadron Collider at Cern give a tantalizing glimpse of how such a unified theory might work: on 3^rd April 2011 a cook, c, was carrying 1 kg of iron atoms bound together by the two nuclear forces in the form of a cooking pot K with a thick layer of burnt porridge on the base that he had been trying unsuccessfully to scrape off. A large electromagnet had been left on the floor of the kitchen by an unknown number of scientists, “u”, and as c+K came into contact with the electromagnet left by u, a gravitational force f caused a rapid acceleration of K downwards onto the toes of c. The resulting collision produced an explosion of swearing that was too intense to be measured. One day we may establish the exact relationship between factors K, c, f and u, but sadly for the time being the scientists involved consider the experiment too hazardous to repeat.

That’s enough for now but do keep posting your questions and we’ll get the rest of existence accounted for before you can say Jack Robinson x 10³¹⁷⁸⁴.

Druids, Anti-Matter and an Alpine Chough

More from the blog that attempts to answer your questions on everything in the entire universe from the beginning to the end of all recordable time. Except maybe fashion.

Idea versus technical skill - which is better?

If you take a good look at the world around you will quickly see that the answer is of course neither: in any reasonable contest both ideas and technical skill will consistently trail in joint last behind “working in an office”. How can inspiration really compete against a really good two hour meeting with an agenda, some bullet points and a Powerpoint presentation from someone from marketing? Can some craftsmanship really replace the formulation of an ongoing strategy going forward to meet a set of core objectives? Thinking of it as an econo-socio-political game of scissors-paper-stone, imagine the tool-like scissors represent the power of technical skill to craft and shape. Ideas then are represented by the paper, the medium whereon we express our thoughts. And "working in an office" is represented by a massive bewildered yak that eats the paper, sicks it up again on the scissors and then kicks them both into a swamp. Then gets that all typed up in some minutes.

Why is it when women are tasked with purchasing something mundane, but essential such as a replacement telephone handset for the house they in fact end up drawn magnetically to the shops selling lovely winter boots and coats?

We all know how water will draw down the tip of a dowsing rod carried by a man with an awful beard and clothes that smell of the underneath of a toddler's car-seat. In just the same way an unusually nice coat will draw any shopper after household goods away from their initial path. Tacitus tells us of the mysterious rites of the druids who often went out to observe certain alignments of the moon, stars and lay-lines, and came back with a really natty pair of suede knee-high stilettos.

Is procrastination ever a good thing?


I notice this question was posted in April. Let me get back to you.

What if you are wrong about something?

I’m assuming this question relates to the possibility that this blog might contain inaccuracies. It seems to posit that in some respects this blog may be not so much a series of scientifically-demonstrable accounts of the nature of the known and unknown universe as some half-baked internet whimsy randomly chucked together by just some bloke. And as such it introduces a very important idea that underpins a lot of the work I do here on Some Kind of Explanation.

For a long time particle physicists have known that alongside particles there exist anti-particles, and hence anti-matter. In much the same way I’d like to postulate the existence alongside “explanations” of “anti-explanations”. These anti-explanations behave very much like conventional explanations except that they are the opposite in terms of being correct. So just as matter and anti-matter co-exist in the universe, these explanations and anti-explanations must co-exist in any attempt to explain the universe. So the existence of anti-explanations (in laymans terms “stuff that’s wrong”) in this blog clearly make it a more accurate tool for describing the nature of the universe. Look over there! Isn’t that an alpine chough? Oooh, you missed it.

On the other hand if the question is intended in the sense “What should one do if one is wrong about something?” my suggestion would be to throw up a smokescreen of scientific-sounding rhetoric, and if that fails change the subject with a spurious sighting of a rare corvid.


That's all the scientifically-verifiable results I've had back from the lab for now, but do kep the questions coming if there's anything else you feel needs explaining.

A Poorly Spaniel in a Wet Tweed Suit.

More from the only blog that answers the question “What does it all mean?”  without inviting you to a series of friendly “meetings” culminating in some sinister chanting and a standing order form.

Could you demonstrate that I exist?

It is a scientifically observable phenomenon that when a toddler is taking his jumper off and it is pulled up over his face he becomes completely invisible. And yet his existence continues. As I write this you are completely invisible. So, like the aforementioned toddler,  you must therefore also exist. This is of course all assuming you are wearing a jumper. If not then I’m afraid I can’t vouch for your existence of otherwise.

Why do my clothes smell like this?

This question highlights one of the fundamental problems with discussing smell, namely the vagueness of the terminology. There’s just no simple way for me to know what you mean by “like this” and that’s typical of the way that everyday language stumbles when it comes to finding a way to describe the olfactory. And yet it doesn’t need to be like that. Here I’d like to propose a radical new way to categorise and evaluate smell that I’m calling The Roquefort Scale.

Force 1) a scent. For example thyme warming in the summer sunshine. Bees gather. Breathing deepens.

Force 2) a waft. Freshly laundered sheets. Lungs fill.

Force 3) a whiff. Onions frying on the other side of the car park. Noses twitch.

Force 4) a niff. Onions frying on the same side of the car park. Noses sniff.

Force 5) a tang. The smell of garlic on the end of your fingers. Nostrils flair.

Force 6) an odour. Some socks just taken from a pair of brogues. Eyebrows crinkle.

Force 7) a pong. Some socks just taken from a pair of trainers. Eyes water.

Force 8) a funk. Some sick just taken from a pair of trainers. Windows are opened. Faces grimace.

Force 9) a hum. A poorly spaniel in a wet tweed suit. Polite conversation pretending everything is fine becomes difficult.

Force 10) a reek. Some offal accidentally left on a radiator while you went on holiday. Gorges rise. Noses are held.

Force 11) a stink. An old badger frightened to death by some off pickled onions. Insects die. Children cry.

Force 12) a stench. A skunk has exploded from a surfeit of scotch eggs and camembert in the back of a hot van used to transport herring. Windows crack. Adults burst into tears. Children burst into flames.

Why not take a careful smell of your clothes and let me know where on the Roquefort scale you would rate yourself, and then get back to me? Or if you rate anywhere over Force 7) please don't get back to me.

Why don't eggs come from eggplants?

Because they know that deep down they’re called Aubergines.

What do you do when you can't get what you want?

This very much depends on your background. For example if you are English you won’t mention it and will carry on as best you can. If you are Scottish you will feel pleased that things have panned out exactly as you predicted. If you are irish you will blame it on the English. If you are Welsh then you will remember a bygone day when you always got what you want and also the sun was shining and everyone loved you unconditionally. If you are American you might start a war. There are of course many other treasured national stereotypes that space prevents me from needlessly perpetuating.

That’s all for what I’m going to call “now” but do keep the questions coming or we’ll never get the universe explained.

Angry Spiders and a Not-Talking Mouse

More anwers to your questions from the blog that stares unblinking into the gaping maw of ignorant chaos and tells it to floss more regularly.

I need to pull my fridge out. What am I likely to find behind it?

Behind every fridge is a portal to another world. Typically this will be full of loveable characters such as Mr Detritus who is half cucumber-end half sort of brown slime, Rottycheek the not-talking dead mouse, and Mr and Mrs Important Document. If you have children they may be able to have exciting allegorical adventures there, but only if they are the sort of children who say things like “bad show” and aren’t especially interested in moral complexity.

Are there really people who can't understand what to do when they approach a roundabout?

Yes. In fact most people can’t understand what to do, and this condition isn’t affected by proximity to roundabouts.

Why does my leg hurt?

There could be three reasons for this. 1) You could be being eaten by a crocodile. 2) You could be vividly imagining you are being eaten by a crocodile. 3) Some other reason not covered by 1) or 2) above. As a general rule if there isn’t a thrashing grey-green mass of writhing reptile grasping your leg in its remorseless jaws dragging you into the murk of the swamp or reptile house pool then you can rule out 1) or 2). In extreme cases however it is possible to imagine being eaten by a crocodile while you are being eaten by a crocodile, and while this is all going on you may also be suffering some other unrelated leg pain, thus  experiencing 1), 2) and 3) simultaneously.

I'm experiencing a strong desire to purchase an occasional table. Would this be a wise investment?

No. I wouldn’t advise anyone to invest in a strong desire to purchase a table. How do you imagine you will recoup this investment? How will your desire for an occasional table become more valuable over time? Is there really any kind of market out there for a desire for an occasional table? Have you even done any kind of business plan AT ALL? No wonder we're falling into the blast furnace of global economic melt-down. Now if it were an occasional desire for a strong table that would be different.

Do spiders have feelings?

Yes, spiders do have feelings but not in a way that would make sense to humans. For example spiders feel angry about the films of Frank Capra; they feel jealous of sunlight glistening on an alder leaf; and they feel a kind of gut-wrenching panic about anything to do with upholstery. This accounts for why spiders and humans have such different priorities. In a recent survey on leisure pursuits human respondents ranked drinking a glass of wine with a friend far higher than sucking all the juice out of a fly, whereas the spiders consistently proved unable to hold a pencil long enough to tick any box.

That's all for now but do keep the questions coming as there remains a substantial part of the universe in need of explantion.