NASA’s release: http://www.nasa.gov/home/hqnews/2010/dec/HQ_10-320_Toxic_Life.html

So, how do you think this will affect the search for life elsewhere? It might not be life on Titan (as some speculated the news release might be about), but it’s still pretty cool.

Forum topic for convenience: http://forums.leagueofreason.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=6453

However, you develop an unfair bias of a newspaper when you peruse it mainly to find new nonsense to write about in your blog. You ignore all rational articles about politics\current affairs\crossbows to the face and concentrate only on articles that guarantee a spout of vitriol frothy enough to incur a transparent sense of self-righteousness. And as a result, your perception is that the chosen paper exists only to print stories about religion, druids and the supernatural. Unfair, since the Metro regularly dishes out reasonably informative articles about modern science and astronomy.

My last fodder was about druids fixing roads, and it’s hard to have sympathy for a publication that will indulge itself with such asinine balls. But almost the next day, indeed it could have been the next day, the Metro printed this. Our very own Phil Plait, who I have happily if briefly met (and who disillusioned me slightly by expressing a certain reserve for District 9, damn it Phil when will you see that guys in alien power armour are the next Casablanca) blogged about a photo of a lunar rock that had rolled into a crater. The Metro picked this up and wrote the small piece to which I just linked.

They could have taken Phil’s approach, which was “OMFG space is awesome and beautiful”. And they sort of did. But they also titled the article “Proof that golf-playing God shot a hole-in-one on the Moon?”

Facedesk.

Why, why would you do this? What manner of journalist would take a story about a lunar event of some rarity and make it into terrifyingly inept pun-based  pseudoscience? Am I only this annoyed because I loathe religion? No, I don’t think I am. The image itself deserved a tone of joyous solemnity (and sure, Phil played with a few golfing metaphors himself before getting into the science of it; I imagine the Metro stole the idea.) But that wouldn’t have been enough to make a prominent article; only invoking God could elevate the story into something worthy of News. Not content with printing stories about supernatural druidical assholery, they feel the need to take stories of astronomical wonder and create supernatural assholery. ” . . . this picture suggests that the Almighty could have had a round or two on the grey course – and even scored a hole-in-one.” What? You can almost hear the satisfied smirk as it drips off the journo’s face and congeals in the folds of his Armani tie.

You were so close to redeeming yourself, Metro. Now I hate you hate you hate you.

Print news, fine. Even if that means factually reporting on nonsense, fine. But taking science and jokingly inserting God? I will end you. With sticks.

Panspermia describes the possibility that life on Earth was seeded, catalysed or in some way influenced by material entering its ecosystem from space. And what with various organic compounds being discovered in the chilly depths of space, far beyond the reach of human hands, it’s a hypothesis that is, at the very least, plausible.

However it’s not particularly the scientific aspect of panspermia I was thinking about. Did you miss my blogtv show last night? Of course you did. You were outside, discussing politics with impossibly handsome people whilst eating fine wines dipped in caviar. Or maybe you were making frantic love as the police stormed the house, or having a quiet drink, or just generally not sitting in front of your computer for 3 hours watching me chat with AndromedasWake, cavorting for the amusement of Internet and its blind, insatiable eye. Anyway, that was where I thought of the following nugget of pseudophilosophical claptrap.

At what point can the introduction of material from space be called panspermia? The earth was roundly trounced with debris for, oh, ages once it had coalesced. It would seem likely that some of the elements introduced or events created by such a bombardment might affect, directly or indirectly, the process of abiogenesis; it could even be argued that Earth itself is a product of panspermia since it’s made up of a lot of different spacebound bits, and continued accreting long into its life.

To me, panspermia suggests a scale. On the one end, we have a rock with some stuff on it that falls to earth and is, eventually, abiogenesised. Or however you’d phrase it. On the other end of the scale you have a fully-formed sentient creature that crash lands and then does something inarguably direct, like throw a few hundred seeds around the place.

So at what point does matter from space affecting the process of abiogenesis take on the loftier mantle of panspermia? What if three of the four bases of DNA were sitting about (I’m aware this is a gross oversimplification) and the fourth one arrived on a comet? What if it was a few simple amino acids and sugars that fell to earth? Where is the cutoff in this grey area?

Clearly, I’m not contesting the workability of the panspermia hypothesis at all, I just like thinking about stuff like this. Perhaps you do too. And panspermia isn’t really an explanation for the origins of life in as direct a way as abiogenesis, just an additional variable that needs to be taken into consideration. After all, if an alien had landed on earth and created us from protein bars and, well, sperm in a pan . . . that would explain where WE came from, but it wouldn’t explain the processes behind the evolution of the alien and its penchant for soiling newborn worlds. And if comet dust and attending organic molecules were instrumental in abiogenesis, it means we’re even less likely to be alone then we were before. It’s highly likely that, given the vast size of the universe, life is existing right now, beginning right now, dying right now. It’s an awe-inspiring thought, and maybe it will encourage you to visit my BlogTV show next time I advertise YOU VULTURES

The spacecraft, which has been in operation for just over 32 years reached a humbling milestone this week; 20 years since the closest approach to Neptune. On August 25th, 1989 it came within 5000 km of the big, blue gas giant, taking spectacularly beautiful ‘close-ups’ that Adams, Galle and Le Verrier could only have dreamt of (see pictures after the jump). Just 5 hours later, it made its closest approach to Triton, Neptune’s largest moon, which is spiraling in slowly to its eventual demise.

Voyager 2 is so far the only probe to have visited Neptune (and Uranus) completing the reconnaissance of our Solar System’s main planets. I was only three years old at the time, but thanks to the achievements of the Voyager programme, I grew up with books containing a complete set of stunning photographs and they inspired me no end. Every time I look through my old books, I remember not to take this for granted. Most of the planets’ discoverers lived long before they were seen up close and it is only through the hard work of many scientists and engineers that in the time I live, we have landed probes on alien worlds (Huygens on Titan, 2005), we’ll soon be exploring dwarf planets (Dawn to Ceres, New Horizons to Pluto) and we’re continuously discovering other Solar Systems of all flavours. I can’t help but wonder how exploration will have improved hundreds of years after I’m gone, and how the distant planets being discovered today might also be seen in close up.

Voyager 2, true to its name, continues to sail into the limitless blackness, carrying with it evidence of an intelligence with a thirst for discovery. And it’s not alone. Its twin, Voyager 1, has also crossed the termination shock and entered the Sun’s heliosheath. Despite being launched over two weeks after 2, 1 has travelled further than any other man-made object and the only probes to compete with the Voyagers are Pioneer 10 and 11, both now dead. The Voyagers on the other hand, are very much alive, still transmitting back valuable data since officially becoming interstellar missions. They’re expected to survive for a further 15 years as well! How’s that for engineering?

They’re only machines, but they’re the loneliest machines ever built and we are in debt to them. They have seen much more of the Universe than we delicate organisms could have managed and without complaint, they shared and continue to share their experiences with us. So spare a thought for Voyager 2 and the others. If robots ever learn to have heroes, it’s a safe bet that these probes will be near the top of the list.

Artist's rendition of Voyager 2 at the Neptune-Triton system

Spots on Neptune (Voyager 2 image data)

Clouds on Neptune (Voyager 2 image data)

Triton mosaic (Voyager 2 image data)

Internet technology allows people all over the world to connect and viralise information at speeds that would seemingly defy nature’s limits in the eyes of scientists just a few hundred years ago. For the first time ever, the annual Perseids meteor shower will be mass-tweeted by astronomers and enthusiasts worldwide. It’s an initiative proposed by the Newbury Astronomical Society (that’s here in England) and promoted as part of the International Year of Astronomy, and you can be involved!

Firstly, make sure you have a Twitter account. Then make sure you’re following me and the LoR Blog. Got you! Okay, that bit wasn’t essential, but it’s recommended. Definitely be sure to follow Newbury AS though.

Now, you’ll need to understand how hash-tags work. A hash-tag is a search term that you can attach to a tweet, instantly referencing the tweet with the term in Twitter’s database. During the Perseids meteor watch, we’ll be tweeting with the tag #Meteorwatch. By following that page you’ll be able to see the Tweets in real time as people all over the world report meteor sightings. So if it’s cloudy where you are, you can sit in and watch it all unfold online. Beautiful.

But how about contributing to #Meteorwatch? All you need is a method for tweeting when you’re out at your favourite dark-sky site. I can vouch for UK users being able to text their reports to Twitter, which is what I’ll be doing (unless I’m clouded in) but if you have a two-way service, that’s even better. Just make sure to update us on what you see, when you see it. And remember to add the tag to every single tweet, so that others can follow your involvement.

Now, at this point, most of you are asking: “What the hell are Perseids?”

Good question. Perseids are meteors (shooting stars) with a radiant in the constellation of Perseus. This means they appear to originate in the sky in Perseus and shoot out in all directions. Despite this, Perseus is not the best place to look, and I’ll cover that in just a moment. The shooting stars we see are caused by tiny fragments of comets being collected by the Earth at enormous speed and burning up in the atmosphere. In the case of the Perseids, the culprit is the comet Swift-Tuttle.

The Perseids are a particularly reliable and spectacular shower with a very high Zenithal Hourly Rate (ZHR) of around 100. You may not see any meteors for 5, or even 10 minutes, but on average you should see over one per minute throughout the watch. Personally, I find it much better a few come along at once anyway! But where should you look? Well, this can be more art than science sometimes. Based on previous experience with the Perseids, I recommend looking to the Summer Triangle – a very clear asterism in the summer sky, visible almost directly overhead at about midnight right now in the UK. The triangle contains three stars; Deneb, Vega and Altair, in the constellations Cygnis, Lyra and Aquila respectively. From Cygnus to Aquila, you should see shooting stars streaking down the Milky Way towards the horizon. I’ll be pointing my camera in this region whilst I’m out and recording the times of any I happen to catch. Photos will also be posted to Twitter (with the #Meteorwatch tag of course!)

To get the best view, you’ll need to block out the bright glare of the waning Moon. Try to position yourself with the Moon obscured by a tree or building. If you intend to take photos, make sure you have a remote shutter (so you can sit down and relax), and a tripod. Set your camera’s sensitivity (ISO) to its maximum setting (usually 1600) and expose for as long as you can without the sky becoming too bright. Depending on the level of light pollution, this could be anywhere from 15 seconds to several minutes. Make sure the aperture is wide open (lowest possible focal ratio) so that the camera can collect the maximum amount of light. Ultimately, astrophotography is as much trial and improvement as it is good advice. You’ll need to find the settings that work best for your observing conditions.

Above all, just have fun. The watch officially stars tomorrow (Tuesday) evening and continues until Thursday. The peak of the shower will be Wednesday. It’s a beautiful, humbling, romantic, thought-provoking experience. Don’t miss it!

By the way, I do have one last piece of advice. If you’re out in a field in the South of England and something behind you suddenly barks very loudly, don’t jump from your post screaming like a little girl. It’s just a badger. It er… happened to.. a friend of mine… once.