Category Archives: 37 Minutes

Following the death of Neil Armstrong, people flooded Twitter with tributes, accolades, and stories about the first man to walk on the Moon. Some of them took the opportunity to lament the current state of the space program. A handful seized the moment to call for bold new space initiatives in his honor — my favorite: a petition to hold Armstrong’s funeral on the moon.

Inevitably, a few people wondered who Armstrong was, and that sparked the usual hand-wringing and wailing about “the kids today” and all variations thereof. But one tweet that I saw went a step further: it asked, “Who was Neil Armstrong, and what did he ever do for me?”

It was the second question that struck me. The person was asking more than simply who the man was. He was suggesting that Armstrong wasn’t worth knowing about because he hadn’t done anything for that person.

There wasn’t enough room in a tweet — or even a series of tweets — to really give that answer enough space, so I’d like to take this opportunity to posit some examples of what Neil Armstrong ever did for you — and me, and pretty much everyone else, for that matter.

He showed you what you can do when you’re part of something greater than yourself. The call to land on the moon galvanized a lot of people and a lot of resources. It was a call to do something that was frankly heroic: to go somewhere no one had ever been to, and come back and tell us about it. It would require a man to be an ambassador not just of his country, but of his species. It took a lot of training, practice, and effort to be part of that team, and an incredible burden of responsibility on top of the enormous risk. To be willing to not just accept that but to seek it requires a lot of courage.

He showed you what you can accomplish when you’re part of a team. Armstrong may have been the first to take that giant leap for mankind, but he was figuratively standing on the shoulders of giants — and he would have been the first person to acknowledge that. The pioneers of rocketry who devised the vehicle that took him to the moon. The men and women who designed, built, and tested the equipment that carried him there. The dedicated teams of support staff that guided the mission across the void. Armstrong was the most visible member of a team, but hundreds of thousands of people worked to get him there. They trusted him with their machine, and he trusted that they would get him there.

He showed you how to harness your passion. Let’s face it, the idea of being the first human to set foot on another celestial body wasn’t something just handed to Armstrong. The goal motivated a lot of people to seek it, and astronauts in those days had some pretty testosterone-feueled egos. The competition to be the first was enormous. Armstrong, by accounts, was fiercely motivated to be that man. He fought hard for it, but by most accounts he fought fair — he worked his tail off to convince everyone that he would work harder, learn more, and devote himself to a greater extent than his peers. He had a passion to be the first man on the moon, and that passion drove him to excel.

He showed you how to capitalize on your accomplishments. The stories are legion about how Armstrong retreated into a quiet life after the Apollo 11 mission, how he eschewed fame and declined calls to seek political office. Instead, he found ways to put his talents and skills to use as a professor of aerospace engineering, inspiring generations of young kids to dream about maybe one day — perhaps quite literally — following in his footsteps. In other words, Armstrong took everything he had accomplished and all that came with it, and instead of putting it to use for himself, he decided to pay it forward.

That’s what Neil Armstrong ever did for you. And you. And you and you and you and you. And me, too.

Thank you, sir, for your example.

Famous words written by John Masefield, but now the subject:

Stars.

How important are stars to the fabric of human existence? Stars have been woven into the framework of our daily life.

At the dawn of civilization, stars were there to guide day to day existence. Religions were formed with stars as a basis. Continents were discovered and explored with only stars as guides. Those who could interpret patterns and discern meanings were deemed the wisest of the wise.

For eons, man dreamed of an existence with and beyond the stars. When the concept of Space was understood, men strived to find a way to live among the stars.

For over half a century, mankind worked to send men, machines, and payloads to the stars. Someday, the stars will shrink the way our own Earth has become smaller and smaller.

Scientists can tell us how the stars were made, the life expectancy of a star, the chemical composition of stars, and what the various color stars mean. We have calculated the relative speeds, density, and even postulate the existence of planets revolving around them.

We have sent objects and equipment into Space to photograph the stars, to observe patterns, to discover new stars, and to watch old stars die.

Yet as humans, our eyes have been turned downward. Our existence now lies in little boxes known as tablets, cell phones, and laptops. No longer do we look at the stars and wonder about reaching them.

Call to Action!

Before the summer is out and the skies are clear we encourage our viewers to go out and look at the stars. Maybe even dream…

There’s no shortage of web-based resources for news and events in science fiction out there, covering movies, TV, podcasting, comics, and all the ancillaries like gaming and collectibles. I read a lot of them, or more accurately I try a lot of them; the ones that stay in my rotation are the ones that are well-written, cover unique topics, and have a sense of humor. Or at least two of the three.

Ansible has been in my reading queue since nearly Day One because it dependably has a finely honed abundance of all three. Named after Ursula K. LeGuin’s hypothetical faster-than-light communications device in Rocannon’s World, Ansible recently published its 300th issue, and has been in publication since 1979 (with a brief hiatus from 1987-91). Now, while that would be an impressive record for any genre magazine, what makes it truly amazing in this case is that Ansible is entirely the work of one man: novelist, short story writer, and lifelong fan David Langford. A labor of love in every sense, Ansible relies on Langford’s keen editorial eye and dry writerly wit plus help from a world wide web of contributors (including, very occasionally, this writer). But ultimately it is David Langford’s baby.

Whether you read it on the website or get it in the mail, every issue is a treat. Regular features include a listing of upcoming conventions, obituaries of science fiction notables, recent awards, and letters to the editor. Even those are leavened with a sense of Langfordian wit; letters are always “Outraged,” for example.

Other indispensable regular features include “As Others See Us” (and variations thereof), which features eye-rolling or squirm-inducing quotes about science fiction in the mainstream media, and “Thog’s Master Class,” featuring the best of the worst lines ever in science fiction writing, past and present (so enduringly popular that Thog has his own site where you can read such wonders as “Captain Vandermeer, if you will please initiate a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn of the Washington, we’ll begin the long journey home.” Plus, all the impossible things that eyes do.)

Langford has won an astonishing 28 Hugo Awards for his work, many of them for Ansible. He had a 19-year winning streak for the Best Fanzine Hugo and a flabbergasting 31-year nominating streak for same. He’s a prolific fellow, and his prodigious hard work benefits science fiction fans everywhere. The newsletter is free, but he does have a tip jar and you would be remiss in not compensating the man for his hard work.

To paraphrase the Washington Post commercials, if you don’t get Ansible, you don’t get it.

NASA’s latest mission to Mars seems to be a great success so far. Much of the world is curious about this little rover sent to the red planet.

It is interesting to note that no one ever heard about Curiosity until after Channel 37’s feature series “Mission to Mars” was running. Just saying.

But be that as it may, the staff at Channel 37 is excited that Curiosity is the first step that will eventually lead to a real life Mission to Mars. We have been following the mission relentlessly except, of course, when the cute little girls are doing their gymnastics at a lesser event known as the Olympics.

To explain about the mission, NASA hired the legendary William Shatner to narrate a short video. Here it is:

Here is the link if the video is not working.

We of course encourage our viewers to view this video, between Beach Volleyball matches, naturally.

The point of this mission that we here at Channel 37 feel the strongest about is that it may seem that the United States may be actually taking space seriously again. We applaud the efforts of NASA and hope this mission continues as successfully as it started.

So you think you know your Classic Star Trek, do you? Here’s a little quiz to test your mettle.

Without resorting to Google, Wikipedia, or any reference materials whatsoever — in other words, using nothing but the power of your own noggin — identify the Classic Trek episodes in which the following ten planets appeared (episode title or plot description will do). First one to get all ten right gets a free e-book of their choice of any of our Channel 37 titles.

Feeling up to the challenge? Open your test books and begin!

1. Eminiar VII
2. Janus VI
3. Cheron
4. Argelius II
5. Camus II
6. 892-IV
7. Omicron Ceti III
8. Neural
9. Argus X
10. Elba II

Leave your answers in the comments section below. And may the nerdiest Trekkie win!

Perhaps one of the most fascinating places in the world is Stonehenge. The tall stones could have stood there for over five thousand years.

 

 

 

 

As a page devoted to science fiction, we can think of many, many different reasons these stones were placed there. Could they have been placed there by aliens? Were these stones a type of signal to the visitors from other worlds?

 

 

 

 

 

Letting our fantasy side take, could this place be were dark rituals took place? Is there magic here? Did druids really use this for mystical reasons?

 

 

 

 

 

 

The absolute weirdest thing about Stonehenge is that there exists another one in Africa. Experts tell us the African one is Ten Thousand years old.

NASA’s cargo shuttle of the 1980s. The first manned flyby mission to Venus in 1967. A one-way mission to the Moon in 1962.

Using a Ranger spacecraft to survey the crash site of Apollo 11’s lunar lander. Rescuing astronauts stranded in lunar orbit. Nudging Skylab to safety using the Space Shuttle.

Plots for alternate history novels? Nope, even better. These are plans that were actually made — plans which might have been lost in dusty archives forever if it wasn’t for science writer David S.F. Portree and his Wired Science blog Beyond Apollo.

Portree, author of the definitive NASA history of Mars missions that were proposed but which never happened, Humans to Mars: Fifty Years of Mission Planning (NASA Monographs in Aerospace History #21, 2001) — and the technical advisor to the new Channel 37 serial Mission to Mars — launched Beyond Apollo this past March as the culmination of 16 years of dedicated research into the documented detours in America’s space program. In 1996, Portree launched a website called “Romance to Reality,” which led five years later to his NASA monograph. Eventually, the blog peregrinated over to Wired, where it became one of its select Science Blogs.

Portree describes the mission of Beyond Apollo thusly:

For every spacecraft that rises from its launch pad, there have been dozens that were conceived but not built. For every brave space mission flown, there have been dozens that flew only in the mission architect’s imagination. Most of these missions that never were only progressed as far as paper studies. In a few cases, however, flight-worthy space vehicles have become scrap or museum exhibits. In other cases, engineers developed alternate flight plans for missions that flew; for example, NASA planned (ironically, as it turned out) a lunar-orbit photography mission for Apollo 13 in the event that its Lunar Module failed and could not be used to land on the moon.

In this blog, I will describe many space missions and programs that never were. I’ll seek to place them in historical context, and to explore why they failed to make the difficult jump from plan to reality. Along the way, I’ll write about our evolving knowledge of the Solar System, NASA’s symbiotic relationship with the Soviet space program, and intricacies of the U. S. political process. My posts will tend to run long, and some might be serialized over several weeks. Above all, they’ll be a meaty treat for my fellow space fans and, I hope, a window into a new world for people who have seldom given spaceflight more than casual consideration

If you want to find out what space history might have looked like, if you want to see some really exciting spacecraft designs, if you want to be inspired by human ingenuity and imagination, — or if you want some inspiration for a hard-SF story or two — then subscribe to Beyond Apollo. Think of it as the side door to space.

Much has been made of the Higgs boson tests at CERN this past week. Is the particle discovered the actual “God” particle? Do these tests prove anything? What does the future hold?

If the reader watched the video posted on July 4th here, the reader would realize that even the scientists at CERN disdain the idea of calling the Higgs boson the God particle. So, what is all the fuss about?

As a service to our faithful viewers, I as a mineral/gemologist type guy, will try to explain the ramification of the latest CERN discovery. (NOTE: Those readers with a physical science background are encouraged to comment if we going astray).

To start with, the Big Bang Theory needs to be invoked as a precursor to the Standard Model. The Standard Model, being the current theory on how everything works. The Big Bang Theory is the very theory of creation. The basic premise is that all matter was created in one gigantic explosion. This explosion sent matter to all ends of the Universe. In many theoretical tests, the Universe is continuing to expand.

Theoretically, the Big Band sent atoms careening all over the universe. In the 1920’s, Albert Einstein set up the idea of the structure of atoms. The atom was composed of sub atomic type “particles” such as protons and electrons. One of the scientists working with Einstein, Satyendranath Bose, discovered that some of these particles had a peculiar type of behavior. This type of particle was named a “Boson” after Dr. Bose (had this discovery been made after the 60’s it would have probably be know as the “Bozo”, but we digress).

In 1964 Peter Higgs, theorized that one type of boson, might actually work as a building agent. The “Higgs boson” as it became known, as had a specific behavior pattern. This boson would attract like matter. For instance, a carbon atom would be attracted to another carbon atom.

As these atomic structures grew, they would build mass. Of course, chaos adds to the equation. A hydrogen atom might be attached to a carbon atom, thus attracting other hydrogen atoms in the mix. Eventually, the mass grows and forms a hydrocarbon structure, similar to Earth. This process takes billions of years.

A planet sized mass would have its own gravity structure. A larger gravity field would attract a smaller gravity field. The Earth as an example, is attracted to the sun, but due to its velocity is in a sort of perpetual free-fall we call an orbit. So it is with the moon.

Those of us who grew up before video games may recall the old Erector Set. Each had its own type of part (atoms) held together with those little, tiny screws (the Higgs boson).

Of course, the media in dumbing down the concept refers to the concept as the “God particle.” This would be true if this theory proved how life began. As it is, it proves how the chemicals for life became available. Fundamentalists can put away the pitchforks and torches for now (for now).

That the theory of Dr. Bose has been proven correct is an awesome event and shows the importance of technology. The tests will continue through the rest of the year to determine if this is indeed the “Higgs” boson.

We, of course, will keep our viewer updated on any new information as it happens.

Because of the popularity of my last post on the top five science-fictional Golden Age airplanes, this week I’m going to take a look at another mode of transportation — five American automobiles that looked like they could have driven right out of a pulp magazine cover or a cinema instead of a showroom.

From the bubbly, Googie-inspired 1950s on into the sleek, jet-setting 1960s, the automobile was one of the ultimate symbols of American identity. And back then, for a while it seemed as if the entire national culture was giddy to redesign itself entirely around them; some plans for the cities of tomorrow included soaring roadways cutting through the middle of skyscrapers, and one proposal that nearly made it to reality called for blanketing all of downtown Washington, DC, in a complex network of interchanges.

Around that time, automobile manufacturers really started getting into the idea of concept cars — vehicles that gave hungry buyers a mouth-watering glimpse of tomorrow’s dreamlike designs and mind-blowing engineering. In vehicles like these, who wouldn’t mind living in a world where six-lane skyways rumbled all night long directly below the space-age linoleum of your fiftieth-floor apartment?

Could we move the cab a little further from the reactor -- say eight or ten miles? #5: 1958 Ford Nucleon — One of the defining motifs of the 1950s was The Atom. Whether it was in the form of Your Friend or Duck and Cover, atoms were everywhere. Evidently the engineers at Ford decided that your trunk would be a good place to put some, too. The Nucleon was never mocked up to full scale, which is perhaps fortunate because then they might have been tempted to try test-fitting a real reactor in it. Not to mention the heavy-duty shocks required to haul all the lead shielding around. One feature of this car, however, did make it into production twenty years later with the Ford Pinto — the highly explosive trunk.

The Caddy that zagged. #4: 1959 Cadillac Cyclone — Known more for designing cars suited for old guys, in 1959 Cadillac made a bid for the space-age set with the Cyclone, which was designed to look like it was equipped with missiles on either side. (Car designers referred to the pointy ends as Dagmars, in reference to a well-endowed TV personality of the era.) One of the last brainchildren of the legendary car designer Harley Earle, the Cyclone was perhaps the first car fitted with radars (of course, located in the Dagmars). The bubble canopy — an iconic requirement of any space age design — slid open electrically along rails and was silver coated to block UV rays that would otherwise bake the occupants on sunny days.

But you'll look sweet upon the seat / of a motorcar built for two. #3: 1961 Ford Gyron — The ultimate dream of any space-age driver was, of course, a hovercar. In 1961, Ford came as close as anyone probably could to realizing that dream with the two-wheeled Gyron. Striving for the Jetsons’ ideal of a car that’s all bubble canopy and no fuselage, the Gyron used gyroscopes (and two discreet training wheels on some demo versions) to balance the car. Plus, it borrowed from the dominant fighter-plane aesthetic of the day, featuring things like a singing canopy in place of doors and a center-mounted joystick for steering. Can you imagine banking into a curve in one of these? Plus, the first 500 buyers would get a deck of playing cards and clothespins to attach them to the spokes.

Mommy, don't forget to turn on the beeble-beeble-beeble sound effect this time. #2: 1964 GM Runabout — If a bicycle car is too outrageous, how about a three-wheeler instead? As the 1950s gave way to the 1960s, car designers began paring away ostentatious things like fins and bubble canopies and began designing concept cars with more practical, less radical looks. The 1964 GM runabout is perhaps the classic example. While it doesn’t look like it will fly you into space all by istelf, it could easily be the car that takes you to the spaceport. I mean, look: the mom isn’t wearing a silver spacesuit and the grocery cart isn’t being pushed by a robot (unless the kid is an android). I know, compared to the other designs here, this one’s probably the most boring, right? Well, first of all, it’s designed by the same guys who did Buicks and Pontiacs, so give them a little credit. And second, this really looks like something off of Syd Mead’s drawing board. If it had been, then you’d be all “Ooh! Cool!” on it. So just pretend that the mom is really a Nexus 6. And in one of the grocery bags is an artificial python. Now isn’t that a cool car?

The tape deck comes with Rocket Man (the Shatner version) installed. #1: 1958 GM Firebird III — What could be more ridiculous than a nuclear reactor in your trunk? Try a jet engine. The GM Firebird III was the last and the craziest of a series of Harley Earle designs between 1956 and 1959 that were built around actual jet engines. While great at keeping tailgaters from getting too close, jet engines posed practical problems too — like having to stop off at the nearest airport every time you wanted a fill-up. Made from super-exotic titanium, the Firebird III had a starship’s worth of gizmos like cruise control and anti-lock brakes and the obligatory center-mounted joystick, not to mention air brakes that deployed from the side panels like flaps — seriously, now that is cool. And if one bubble canopy is good, then two must be great, right? The Firebird III had one for each occupant. Now while that might seem to inhibit casual conversation along the lines of Get Smart’s cone of silence, it could come in really handy when transporting your back-seat-driving mother-in-law. All of which adds up to making the GM Firebird III the winningest science-fictional concept car in our book!

In a recent article in National Geographic , a report appeared about the content of moon soil.

The soil was tested in Australia by Marek Zbik of the Queenstown University of Technology. The soil was originally collected by the Soviet Luna 16 space mission in 1970. This mission was the first to collect a soil sample and return to Earth.

The soil was made up of sand sized glass particles. Since the moon has no atmosphere, micrometeorites are striking the surface of the moon continuously. Upon impact the heat generates and forms glass.

Glass sometimes is formed on Earth – with larger meteorites, of course. The glass formed on Earth by this process is called Moldavite. Moldavite is used in the jewelry business and is prized for its metaphysical properties. Obsidian, another form of natural glass is formed by volcanic activity.

Back to the moon. This glass filled surface often in as much as three feet deep, according to the report. This glass acts like an insulator and actually can hover over the surface if charged electrostatically.

What would this mean to Channel 37 viewers?

Perhaps, if humans were to establish a permanent base on the moon, this glass could be used for building material. Glass can be heated and formed to be useful in any situation. Having a natural supply could reduce costs for moving materials from Earth.

Obviously, with the meteoric activity that the moon is subjected to, having glass domes with teaming city life below would be impractical. However, drilling into the moon’s rocky base and using the glass as a sealer would not be too illogical. A process like this certainly makes establishing settlements on the moon much more affordable.

Naturally, Channel 37 will be first to claim credit for this, should it actually happen. We would be glad to join the ranks of people like Arthur C. “I invented communication satellites” Clarke [NOTE: The sarcasm comes from co-founder Paul. I happen to like Arthur C. Clarke very much, even though I was a bit miffed when he left me out of the will] and other visionaries of science fiction.

When that day comes and this post sits etched in glass in the first glass dome dining hall, please remember one thing: Don’t throw moon rocks!