News Night

Posted by :David Manly On : August 31, 2012
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Category: HBO, Jeff Daniels, Journalism, news, Quebec, Refferendum, The Newsroom, the nightly news

As part of the journalism industry for a few years and being a constant digester of the news before that, I’ve noticed a distinct change in my opinion of the “news.”

As a child, I would not watch the news very much. My parents would call me in if there was an interesting story, usually about animals (no surprise there), but usually I wasn’t that interested. However, I would read the paper every morning, so I would know the bullet points of the big stories happening in the world.

It was not until the big referendum in Canada back in 1995, when residents of Quebec voted whether or not to separate from Canada and become its own sovereign entity. I remember staying up late and watching the little progress bar swing back and forth from YES to NO. And, at the end, it was a nail-biter: 49.42% “Yes” to 50.58% “No.”

That was the first time I really realized that the news was happening all the time and such stories could have wide-reaching consequences. After that, I began to pay attention during elections. Not that I was a political junkie, but I was relatively informed.

And when I could vote, I considered it my patriotic duty to voice my opinion through my ballots.

Does one vote ultimately matter? Can one vote really make a big difference and make my voice heard?

Not really, in my opinion, as 1/191,000 is not even remotely significant. But I thought of it this way: It is my right to vote democratically, and by expressing my opinion, I have a right to complain. You do not vote, you did not have a right to complain about the electoral process or the results of it.

I have since come to realize the errors in that statement, but it was a while ago, so forgive the touch of ignorance in that statement.

I began to pay more and more attention to the media, outside of election time and during big events, once I began my time pursuing my Masters of Journalism. I figured that while I was learning how to be a journalist, I should watch and listen to the pros.

After about a year to 18 months, I stopped watching the nightly news on a regular basis because of the content. I was angry that most of the newscast was devoted to either scaring the audience or simply telling them what to feel. Be wary of this, be scared of this happening, etc…

It just became far too depressing.

I still read numerous newspapers every day, but I stay away from the standard nightly newscast.

And this clip, from HBO’s The Newsroom (which is one of the best shows I have ever seen), perfectly encapsulates why:

If only the real news were more like television, and isn’t that just sad?

The Deepest Blue

Posted by :David Manly On : August 16, 2012
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Category: Earth, Jaws, research, Shark Week, sharks, society, where we've come

The history of our planet is an interesting one, and I want to share this video that was forwarded to me by my dad. This perfectly shows where we’ve been, what we are and even, where we are going.

Please give it a watch:

It is incredible how far we’ve come and what we have done to get here.

Because of the video, I reflected on those special times of the year that bring joy, such as birthdays and anniversaries. They are mostly sprinkled throughout the year like little surprises, giving you something to look forward to.

All those are all well and good, but my favourite time of the year has a more dark twist – Discovery Channel’s Shark Week!

Since 1987, Shark Week has been delighting fans and scientists alike, and I am no exception. And in its 25th anniversary, I thought I would spell out why sharks are so important to me.

I saw the movie Jaws over 20 years ago, and while my parents told me that it was ok to be scared of the water, it seemed I was immune to the fear that gripped the world shortly after its release. Sure sharks were scary (anything with that many teeth is), but I was more interested in the how and why of it all.

Why are sharks so powerful? How do they track their prey? What do they normally eat?

This lit a fire under me, and I began to learn everything I could about sharks. Granted, not a lot was known and many aspects of their life cycles still remain a bit of a mystery, but being the precocious animal-obsessed child that I was, I didn’t care.

If it wasn’t known, I figured I would find it out.

Hence my want to be a marine biologist.

Shortly after, I discovered I had a life-threatening allergy to fish and seafood. Suffice to say, I was not happy. It was not what a future marine biologist, who usually has to handle a lot of fish, wanted to have.

I came to terms with it however, and while my future career in the marine animal sciences was closed, my passion burned brighter. I inhaled books and documentaries about sharks with abandon, even the sequels to Jaws (which are horrible, never ever watch them), just so I could see more.

There was something about their streamlined shape, serrate teeth and unblinking eyes that transfixed me. Add in the fact that they have a ‘”sixth sense” that can detect electric fields through receptors on their noses called the ampullae of Lorenzini (in the running for one of the best names ever), who wouldn’t want to learn about these animals that have been around longer than dinosaurs?

This passion for sharks and rays stayed in me even into university, where I dissected a spiny dogfish (called a dogfish, but actually a shark) and wrote a research paper on shark predation behaviour. The best part was when I presented the paper, I utilized a stuffed shark from the Jaws ride at Universal Studios in Florida I bought years back to show how the shark positions itself and the different attacks they use.

But.

No discussion of sharks and Jaws may be complete without the mention of the ruthless killing of sharks done every day in the name of “sport,” “protecting the public” or for “food.” Shark attacks are exceedingly rare – In fact, I am more likely to be killed in my car, crossing the street, eating a hot dog, being killed a cat, getting struck by lightning, being killed by a falling over vending machine and more.

Are we outlawing cars, vending machines or relentlessly murdering cats?
No, of course not, that would be silly.

So why sharks?

Yes they attack people on the rare occasion, but so do lions, tigers and bears.
Sure, they are scary, but so are snakes.
And sure, they look weird, but so does an aardvark (PLEASE do not kill aardvarks, they are amazing).

But because a movie told you so?

Please.

Even the man who wrote the book Jaws, Peter Benchley, was shocked and appalled by the killing of sharks that resulted from the movie. He spent the rest of his life diving with sharks, filming documentaries and educating the public about how beautiful, important and magical sharks are.

So the next time you sit down and watch Jaws or Deep Blue Sea,  Mega shark or any other movie that makes sharks into villains, enjoy it!

But they call it the magic of the movies for a reason, and don’t take it as the truth. Do your own research and you’ll find out that they really are not all that scary or evil, just misunderstood.

All that glitters is not gold

Posted by :David Manly On : July 31, 2012
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Category: 2012, London, Olympics, sports

It’s that time of the year again, where nations come together and watch the Olympics!!!

Or, to be more honest, people watch expert athletes while sitting on their couches wishing they could be as good as the Olympians are. Or whatever you prefer to believe 😉

I absolutely love the Olympics and try to watch ever single event that I can, even though I am not h biggest sport fan during the year. But, for some reason, every 2 years, I become a sport fanatic and just absorb everything.

It has gotten to the point where I tape two different channels during their prime-time coverage, while watching a third, to make sure I do not miss a single event. Add that to online coverage, I think I’m set for the next two weeks.

But recently, I started thinking about why that is.
Why am I so engrossed in the Olympics (both winter and summer)?

I think it is because it shows people at their best.

Every single person on the planet says saying like, “just do your best,” “you tried your hardest” and “you just didn’t want it enough” – which is akin to saying that an individual was not good enough. But these athletes from all over the world? THEY are the best.

And from that pool, the three greatest champions emerge and stand on the podium.

However, getting just behind the podium is thought of, in the public forum, as a disappointment and a failure. But the truth is that it is anything but.

Take the Canadian women’s Olympic team in athletics.

Two days ago, they qualified for the team finals, which was beyond their wildest expectations. Their reactions to being one of the Top Eight to compete in the finals was simply pure joy. And how did they do?

According to CTV, Canada came in 5th, behind the U.S., Russia, Romania and China, but ahead of Britain, Italy and Japan. They were not even close to the podium, but it. Did. Not. Matter.

It was the team’s first appearance in the team final since 1984 and was simply happy to be named fifth best in the world. And that is what people need to remember, as well as the athletes – just because you aren’t first, second or third, it does not mean you are a loser.

Being fifth, 12th, 38th or 75th out of everyone who plays the sport in the world is still pretty DAMN GOOD. And while it may not come with a medal, you are still a winner.

You are still better at what you do than everyone I know, did know or ever will know.

So, congratulations to all Olympians, whether they are on the podium or at the bottom of the scoreboard

My love of literature

Posted by :David Manly On : June 27, 2012
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Category: Animal Farm, books, Bram Stoker, Dracula, George Orwell, Reading

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about reading for pleasure, without actually doing any of it myself.

Let me back up by saying that I am an extremely avid reader. I read the newspaper every morning, as well as countless blogs, press releases and articles for work. However, ingesting all this news has produced an unexpected side effect.

When I arrive home from work, it is difficult to pick up a book (or magazine or other such literature) and read for pleasure. It becomes a chore, which is something that reading should not be and never has been for me before.

I started reading later than other kids, which my parents say is not unusual for twins, since we also started talking a bit later than most kids (though my brother and I did have a “secret” language which we could both understand, but sounded like gibberish to everyone else … believe me, there’s video evidence of this).

But as my Dad is fond of saying, “Once you picked up a book, you never stopped.”

And I didn’t.

I inhaled books and progressed up the reading ladder quickly.

I started with children’s books, but quickly progressed to young kids, then young adults and finally to ‘adult’ books. By the point I was in grade 4/5, I was reading Michael Crichton and Stephen King books by the pound. I was a machine, who not only understood what I was reading, but did so quickly and enjoyed them.

It was shortly after grade 5 that I was on a “books that inspired the great horror movies of yester-year” kick that included Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Picture of Dorian Grey and more, and read what was to be one of my favourite books ever – Dracula by Bram Stoker.

Vampires always held a weird fascination with me, and it was only natural that I would eventual read the classic novel. And to my surprise, I enjoyed it so much that I would continue to read it multiple times a year.

What still stands out from that initial reading is the fact that it was written differently, in the form of diary entries of the main characters. It was not the traditional style of narration, and it made me feel like I was reading a secret that I should not be. Add the fact that it initially unfolded like a mystery, possessed an interesting cast of characters and had subtext that requires multiple readings – I was hooked.

My copy has been so enjoyed over the decades that I had to buy a new copy when I took a course in university entitled “Horror and Terror: Variations in Gothic.”

While Dracula remained my favourite book for a long time, many books joined it in being repeat reads, including a wide variety by Stephen King, as well as the Harry Potter books, every Sherlock Holmes story/novel, the Lord of the Rings, etc…

But then, many years later, my sister suggested to me a tiny little book that I had heard of in passing but never really considered. Since she usually never steers me wrong, I went to Chapters and picked it up and polished it off within an hour or so.

The story was simple enough: the oppressed rebel against their oppressors and believe things will be different, but the new government slowly but surely devolves into a very similar beast.

I am, of course, talking about George Orwell’s masterpiece, Animal Farm.

It is a short read from the mid 1940’s, clocking in at about 110 pages or so, but it remains relevant, interesting and holds true even 70+ years later. Disguised as a fairytale about animals taking over their own farm and forming a new society, it is actual a morality fable about the corrupting nature of power, communism and greed.

You could write dozens of papers about what Orwell talks about, and probably many have, but the cultural subtext is not even what interests me the most. What I enjoy about the book are the interactions between the animals, the foreshadowing and the belief that if we would just look a little harder, animals are not so different than us after all.

These books, Dracula and Animal Farm, remain a constant highlight anytime I read them, like re-visiting an old friend or recalling a fond memory of love long lost.

They are far from perfect – Dracula drags on at points, characters vanish and reappear with no explanation (except for Dracula, who has supernatural powers and can actually do that) and leaves many plot threads dangling at the end that you could make a scarf. And Animal Farm is so short that it is a stretch calling it a novel and the symbolism is so blatant at points that you want to shout, “I get it Orwell, communism and oppression is bad, would you please move on?”

And yet, I love the books I re-read, and I always enjoy them, whether I have days to lounge around and take my time or speed read through them.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my bookshelf is calling me … I wonder what I should read next. Any suggestions?

Science-ish

Posted by :David Manly On : June 15, 2012
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Category: Aliens, Prometheus, Science, Splice, The Fly

Over the past week, I have seen two movies about “science,” but in reality, discuss much bigger topics.

The first one I saw was a movies from a few years ago, “Splice,” starring Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley. The plot is simple mad scientists gone rogue kind of tale – make a discovery, make something freaky, try to keep it a secret and live to regret that decision.


**WARNING – THERE BE SPOILERS AHEAD!**

The science in the movie is kind of iffy – Brody and Polley, as genetic engineers, splice DNA from a variety of species to create a new life-form and harvest precious chemicals for the pharmaceutical industry. But, when they perish, they go Frankenstein and decide to add something else into the DNA melting pot – MAN.

Moving away from the ethical implications, the animals they splice together would never truly be compatible. According to the X-Rays in the credits, there are reptiles, amphibians, mammals, birds, fish, etc… all in the mix.

Just … no.

And then, they create a new creature that looks like a bird mixed with a lamprey with human-esque eyes, which then gradually turns into something resembling a little girl with a cranial fissure bisecting her head and a very long tail with a stinger at the end. The creature, named “Dren” (get it? Nerd backwards) almost dies before they realize she has TWO sets of lungs, one of which is amphibious.

After a series of events, Dren quickly matures into a woman that Adrien Brody has sex with after learning that Sarah Polley used her DNA to make the hybrid.

Oh, and Dren sprouts wings like an archeopteryx.

Then, as if to make things worse, Dren then scampers off, kills Brody, switches gender, rapes Sarah Polley and dies. And then, surprise surprise, Sarah Polley ends up pregnant and ‘sells her soul’ and unborn child to the same pharmaceutical company that she was originally working for.

The movie ends with her saying, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Normally, I can shut my brain off for stupid movies and just enjoy it, but I became more and more upset by this film as it slowly pranced along. It got to a point where I was yelling at the TV, “NO! Bad science!”

I believe what bugged me the most was that there are two types of science fiction movies: those based in a close-facsimile to our world (whether in the future or present-esque time) or one based in a different universe with superheroes, aliens, etc.

Splice was visibly in a world quite similar to ours, but pushed the boundaries of science and imagination into the other territory. It required too many intuitive leaps to make it believable.

Take another sci-fi movie based in a world similar to our own – The Fly, by David Cronnenberg and Jeff Goldblum.

You take one premise, that Goldblum’s character invents teleportation, and the rest of the movie builds upon that one premise. You learn all the “rules” of the experiment quickly and, when his DNA merges with that of a fly, it’s a believable. And his disgusting transformation needs no other scientific explanation.

The other movie I saw was Ridley Scott’s “Prometheus.”

A lot has been written on the movie from two very different perspectives – that it is a prequel to the Alien movies, and that it is its own movie. And, I don’t think either of those is quite right. I believe it is more of a hybrid of the two, since it has connections to the Alien series, but not quite a straight line.

The science in the movie is a bit more believable because it takes place in such a dystopian future on an alien world with bizarre beings. So, because of that, you’re able to distance yourself from the reality of our world and focus on the mysterious new one displayed on the silver screen.

You do get a bit of DNA/human evolution/creationism/evolution in the movie that muddies the waters, as well as so many hidden meanings regarding empowerment and the merits of life that could make your head spin.

But then there’s the xenomorph.

From all the blogs and commentaries I’ve read, it appears that we are witnessing the evolution of the xenomorph – the spot in the bottle that David finds, the “face lampreys,” the squid baby, giant face hugger and finally an early xenomorph.

And if you take a close look at creature that emerges from the Engineer at the end of the movie, it is similar to the alien we all know and move, but a bit more rudimentary. It is lacking some of the specific traits of the xenomorph that we all know and love.

I enjoyed the movie as a separate entity from Scott’s Alien franchise, but as a prequel lead-in, I can see why people are disappointed. It answers a few bigger questions from that universe, but adds so many more.

Two movies: One that deals with a human/multi-species hybrid that kills scientists and blurs the lines of acceptable science, while the other deals humankind’s search for answers about life, the universe and xenomorphs on an alien world in the far future.

But at least science is IN the movies, right?

An Apology and a Meeting

Posted by :David Manly On : May 30, 2012
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Category: "The Black", apology, Short story, The Meeting

Dear faithful readers,

It has been a long time since my last post, and for that, I deeply apologize.

While I spend a lot of time reading and writing at work, it becomes a significant effort to sit down afterwards and write a post … or even read for pleasure. But, no longer.

The past while has been interesting, filled with family drama, loss, illness, laughter and joy. Time, it seemed, slipped away.

As an apology for leaving so long with little content, I have a treat for you.

A while ago, I wrote a short story while in journalism school. It was the first and last bit of fiction writing we would create, and we were given no instruction except for the title, “The Meeting.”

It took me a long time to get an idea, but once I did, I just couldn’t stop writing. Everything coalesced perfectly and the story just poured out of me. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had writing.

I was never going to post this on my blog, just hide it away. But, the joy of writing something is for people to read and enjoy it.

Those of you who have been following the progression on my novel “The Black” (yes, it IS still progressing) will see a few similarities in genre, theme and structure. And those who haven’t?
You’ll get to read it soon, I assure you.

Now I won’t blabber on, but please leave a comment and let me know what you think of the story below.

May I present – “The Meeting!”

————————————————————————————

The Meeting

Chapter 1 – Awakening

When the sun shined through my window, and hit my face, I knew it was time to get up.  However, like always, I kept my eyes firmly shut until the denotation device that I had programmed sprung to life.  It’s a silver monster about half the size of a toaster, but so much more annoying.  I’m talking, of course, about my alarm clock.

I reached over, still half-asleep, and put my hands over the woman sleeping beside me, and prepared myself for the rude awakening.

Good morning folks, it is precisely 8 am on our clocks, and here is the morning news!  Last night, a woman was attacked in her house and kidnapped.  The house was locked from the inside, and the alarm was active.  Police are baffled how someone could have broken into the house without leaving any evidence or setting off the alarm.  In a statement, the police chief said that, “these criminals are smart, but we’ll catch them, because we’re smarter.” 

 “Joan, turn the radio off, will you?” I said, while placing the pillow over my head.  “I don’t want to go to work today.”

“You may not want to get up to go, John,” my wife said, while turning off the radio, “but your boss told you to, and we cannot afford for you to lose your job!”

Meanwhile, a body washed up this morning, which cost one police officer to literally lose his lunch.  Sandra Burns has the report … and then the radio voice faded from the background as Joan turned it off.

“I guess I’ll get up,” I said with a huff, and followed my wife to the bathroom.

I examined my body in the bathroom mirror, and could not help but compare it to my wife’s.

My body was thin and lanky, very apropos and stereotypical for a man of my intelligence, while Joan’s was svelte, but not disgustingly so.  While my hair was greying at the sides and I liked to think it made me look ‘distinguished,’ her long red hair cascaded to her shoulders without the slightest change in colour.  That sight just made me fall in love with her even more.

“You are gorgeous, you know that? How was I ever lucky enough to marry you?”

“It’s a combination of your vast intelligence, your superb wit, and my willingness to settle,” she quipped.  “Now, shower, shave and shove off! You don’t want to be late … again!”

“All right, all right.  But, where did I leave my razor?”

I mean, I’m a certified genius with multiple degrees in a wide variety of fields; You’d think I would be able to keep track of something as simple as a razor! I’m going to be late because of a stupid …

“Found it!” yelled Joan from the bedroom.  “It was on the floor beside your night table. Now hurry up, you’re going to be LATE for MENSA!”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, while simultaneously running into the bedroom and grabbing my razor from my wife’s hands.  Turning back to the bathroom with a wink and a smile, I ran to the bathroom to complete my morning ritual.

“But honey,” I said while shaving, “we never do anything except sit in lounge chairs and talk about what we could be doing. It’s so boring.”

“Well, maybe something interesting will happen today,” she said. “You never know, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” I said as I finished shaving and washing my face.

“Now come here and give me a kiss before I leave for school,” Joan said in her unique way that made it sound like both a request, and an order.  “Someone has to teach these stupid undergrads about string theory, and we all can’t be geniuses sitting around contemplating the world’s problems like you, can we?”

So I walked in, like the ever obedient husband, and gave Joan a kiss on the cheek.  Little did I know that was the last time I would ever see her.
 
Chapter 2 – Discovery

As I drove my car to the MENSA head office, all I could think about was how my intelligence had shaped my entire life.

It all begun over 40 years ago, when I took one of those standardized tests every child takes in school, and scored off the charts.  From then on, everyone started calling me “genius,” and putting me in special classes and schools, trying to help me put my intelligence to good use.

But, by the time I graduated high school in my early teens, I was fairly ambivalent and bored with people telling me what to do.  I was determined to find my own way.

That was when I discovered the MENSA high IQ society, which eagerly accepted me for membership.

It was there I found people able to discuss any and all subjects that interested me, as well as encouragement and support to follow my dreams, changing people’s lives for the better with my intelligence.

I was home.

But, like all good things, they come to an end.

Eventually, my love for MENSA became stagnant and boring.  Individuals who were on par or smarter than me began to leave the organization for “greener pastures” across the world, we were told.  And then, just a few weeks ago, I realized that all my collaborators and friends I had made were gone.  I was alone.

So, I left MENSA, but agreed to stay on their evaluation committee for new applicants that meets every few weeks.  It was a selfish choice, because I loved telling people that they were part of an elite club … special.

Snapping myself out of this melancholy state, I turned on the radio to clear my head.

And for those of you just joining us, it has been a very busy morning.  It turns out the woman who was kidnapped from her bed last night, and the woman who washed up on the shore, are one and the same!  Police have now released the details of her identity: Dr. Bianca Rose, a researcher at a local hospital.  The coroner has said that a cause of death is not known, but the mutilation of the body was done during or shortly after time of death.  He also noted that the mutilation of the body was a direct result of organ theft.  Which organs were stolen, remained confidential.  We’ll have more on this story as it develops.  Next: Sports!

Dr. Rose … I could not believe it.  Before I could understand what was going on, I turned the radio off, slipped onto the side of the road and stared into the distance.

I had just seen her a few days ago, at a MENSA cocktail party, where we agreed to meet in a few days for lunch.  I just could not believe it.  Someone I knew was not only kidnapped, but mutilated?  It was disturbing, to put it bluntly.

But, a small part of me wondered: how was her body mutilated?  And, most important, what did the killers take?

Chapter 3 – The Boss

Finally making it into work, after spending almost 30 minutes by the side of the road, I was in a sort of haze.  Who would kill Dr. Rose and take one or more of her organs?  She had pioneered methods of preserving organs for transplant, and it seemed almost ironic that the murderer would take one of hers.  But, once they took it, what did they do with it? Sell it on the black market?

As I walked past security, I saw my one friend left in the entire organization: Benford (whose real name is Dr. Ben Ford, is was working on creating synthetic blood).  He looked awfully haggard, and was wringing his hands while mumbling to himself.  You can’t blame him, really, as he had worked with Dr. Rose for many, many years.  Their work on organ preservation and synthetic blood was a natural match.

“Hey, Benford, are you ok?  Did you hear about Bianca?”

“Hey John … yeah, I did. Terrible, terrible news.  Just awful.  I mean, there are a few up sides to her death, more funding, primarily.  But mostly it’s a terrible tragedy.  I mean, she was my partner …”

“You don’t seem ok, Benford.  You seem awfully distracted,” I said, with concern.  The concern was not purely altruistic, because he was my last friend here.  And, if he left, I’d truly be alone.

“Yeah, John. I’m fine. Just, you know, uhhh, concerned.  And also, you know how it is with work, very busy.  I’m on the cusp of a breakthrough on creating truly synthetic blood, which can keep tissue alive for decades, even after all organic blood has been depleted.”

“That’s amazing!” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Bianca would be so happy and proud”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Sorry Benford, that’s my phone.”

As I took out my phone, I saw I had received a one sentence text from my boss, Dr. Wilton.  “Don’t be late – W.”

“Sorry,” I said to Benford, “but I don’t want to upset W, especially on a day like today.  I’ll stop by later!”  And with that, I took off at a light jog to Wilton’s office.

But, as I was leaving, I heard Benford resume his mumbling.  I could have sworn he said something that sounded like “I guess I’ll need another jar …,” but I gave it no mind.

When I finally reached the boss’ office a few minutes later, I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Now, Dr. Wilton was a very large man, in every sense of the word.  He resembled something out of a weight loss ‘before’ picture. He was BIG.  He was so big that he needed to specially order a chair to support his weight.  And yet, when he moved, he did not seem to struggle at all – like he walked on a  cloud.  He also had a very loud voice, as if he had a microphone instead of a larynx.

“JOHN!” he bellowed.  “NICE OF YOU TO FINALLY SHOW UP.  WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?  THE MEETING HAS ALMOST BEGUN, AND YOU KNOW TODAY’S WAS ESPECIALLY IMPORTANT!”
 
“I know sir, but I just heard about Bianca …”

 “AHHHH YES, YES. DREADFUL NEWS,” he said, as he emerged from behind his desk.  After a forgiving squeak from his chair, he lumbered over to me, and placed a large hand on my shoulder.

“IT TRULY IS A SAD, SAD DAY FOR ALL WHO KNEW HER. BUT, SHE WOULD WANT US TO CARRY ON, AND NOT DWELL ON HER DEPARTURE.”

“How would you know what she would want?  You hardly knew her,” I blasted back at him, and moved to the other corner of his office.

“OHH, I KNEW HER BETTER THAN YOU THINK. AND I’M SURE SHE’D WANT US ALL TO BE HAPPY AND AT PEACE, AS SHE IS.”

“I suppose you are correct. No sense living in the past, right?” I said with a small smile.

“WHY DON’T WE HAVE A DRINK, TO CELEBRATE LIFE?” said Wilton, and he seemed to lope to his desk and bend down with a grunt.  When he emerged, he grasped two small glasses and a large bottle of scotch.

“FIFTY YEAR OLD SCOTCH, MADE IN 1959. SAME AS ME,” he said with a smirk.

As he poured the scotch, a knock was at the door, causing my attention to shift from Wilton to the door.

“COME BACK LATER, WE’RE DRINKING TO LIFE!” said Wilton with a booming laugh, as I turned back around.  In front of each of us was a glass filled with roughly two fingers of amber scotch.

“To Bianca,” I said softly, as I lifted my glass.

“TO THE PRESERVATION OF INTELLIGENCE,” said Wilton, as he raised his.

As the liquid gold touched my tongue, I immediately felt more relaxed.  I downed the entire glass and felt warmth rush into my stomach.

“Thanks,” I said with a large exhale.  “That was exactly what the doctor ordered.”

But Wilton didn’t say anything; he just stared with a large Cheshire cat-like smile, which began to drift in and out of focus.

 “Wha … what’s going on?” I said alarmingly.  “Wilton, something’s wrong. The room, it’s become all blurry, and I’m getting very dizzy and disoriented.  What was in that scotch?”

“What … what did you do?” I asked weakly, as I began to sink to the carpeted floor.  The last thing I remember was the squeak of Wilton’s chair, the buzz of an intercom and the words: “prep him.”

Chapter 4 – The Meeting

I awoke with a start, with the mother of all hangovers.

I tried to open my eyes but nothing happened.  I tried to speak, but my mouth did not respond.  I tried to move, but I was too weak.

“WELCOME JOHN,” a voice boomed from the distance.  It was the voice from the last man I had seen before I passed out.  “OPEN YOUR EYES, SO YOU CAN SEE WHERE YOU ARE.  OHH, I FORGOT. BENFORD, HELP THE POOR LAD.”

Benford?

There was the sound of switches flickering, followed by a loud hum.  And then my eyes shot open and my vision was filled with a cacophony of yellow light in some sort of liquid.

“The experience will be shocking to your system at first,” said Benford weakly.  “Just relax, and let your eyes adjust to the intensity of the light and the consistency of the water.”

After a few seconds, I could make out shapes through the yellow-tinted liquid.  One very large, and the other fairly skinny, beside what appeared to be several yellow lamps.

“AHHH, THERE YOU GO. WELCOME!” said Wilton, with a large amount of glee in his voice.  “IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU WOKE UP, AS I WAS BEGINNING TO DOUBT BENFORD’S SKILL AS A SURGEON UNDER PRESSURE.”

“I did what you asked,” said Benford.  “I did everything.  Now please, let me go.”

“VERY WELL, YOU DID WELL, DOCTOR.  YOU MAY GO HOME, BUT MENTION THIS TO NO ONE,” boomed Wilton with an air of authority.  “OR, YOU WILL END UP NO BETTER THAN YOUR FRIEND HERE!”

And with that, Benford left, leaving me alone with Wilton.

“Good, I’m glad he finally left,” said Wilton, in a voice much lower than what I was used to.  “All that shouting was beginning to hurt my throat.”

“I know you must have questions, but I’ll answer the two that must be at the forefront of your mind.” The first: Where am I?”

“You’re still in MENSA,” he said, “but in the sub-sub basement I had constructed for this specific purpose.  And, according to everyone above, you just jumped out a window and killed yourself over what happened to Bianca.  But don’t worry, John. I’ll console your wife,” said Wilton with a large smile.

This … this could not be true.  How could I have died?

I mean, I was drugged and woke up here.  I swear, if he touches my wife, I’ll kill him! I don’t know how I’ll get out of here, but I will!
 
“And the second question,” said Wilton, “What happened?”

“Well, I drugged you, which I bet you figured out already, and I brought you here.  I had Benford perform some ‘elective’ surgery, before I literally threw you out the window.  You died, you see, plain and simple.  Your entire body was liquefied,” he said, as he picked up one of the lamps and began walking to my location.

“And what was that surgery, you ask?  Well, take a look.”

And with that, he held up a lamp so I could see, and if I could have screamed, I would have.

It was a large capped jar, filled with yellow liquid.  At the bottom of the jar, was a tag that said, ‘B. Rose.’

And what was inside, I would never forget.

There was nothing but a brain, and two hovering eyes.

“Say hi to Bianca!” laughed Wilton, as he placed down Bianca’s jar and held up a mirror.

What was staring back at me?

My piercing blue eyes, submerged in my own jar of yellow liquid, attached by nerves to my brain. And a little tag at the bottom, which said, ‘J. Davis’

“Welcome John,” said Wilton, “to where you will spend eternity thinking about ways to better the world.  Isn’t that what you always wanted, to help people?”

Well, now you will.  Welcome to the real MENSA!”

“Welcome, to the Meeting of the Minds!”

Confessions of a science clown

Posted by :David Manly On : March 3, 2012
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Category: birthday parties, Dynamo Dave, entertainment, mad scientist, Science, science clown, Science Online 2012

In the weeks since Science Online 2012 ended, there has been a lot of discussion over different social media platforms about the experience, what could be done differently, the highs and lows and most importantly, what could be discussed next year.

I’ve made a lot of new friends since the conference, and have already started discussing topics for next year.

But, this post isn’t going to be about that. This will be about something that was mentioned during the conference at the banquet.

At the banquet, a number of attendees got up and shared stories under the theme of “connections,” and they were all fantastic.

One spoke about their career, another recounted a bizarre story involving pubic lice, and another told a personal story about their battle with depression. A fellow Canadian, however, spoke about teaching science to children and how it profoundly changed her perspective.

This tale of mine takes place a number of years ago, before I came to the decision to pursue my Masters of Journalism and was still set on becoming a professor of zoology, but I will refrain from mentioning the business by name.

When I was a kid and went to summer camp, every now and then, we’d have a special activity where a “scientist” (named so because he or she would be wearing a lab coat) would teach us something about science in a fun way. We’d learn about water pressure by making water rockets and about geometry by building bridges.

So, when I was looking for a part-time job, working for them seemed like a natural fit.

I applied, being ridiculously over-qualified, and I was quickly hired.

The first step was to be trained in their various experiments and how to explain them to children. Coming from science, I never once looked at the instruction booklet. I already knew the three pillars a fire needs, or why dry ice turns from solid to gas and did not need to re-learn it. In fact, I helped teach others why certain reactions or experiments worked, where the booklet did not explain it correctly (and there were more than a few instances of that).

The next step was creating a unique nickname that the kids could call you, such as Atomic Allison or Rocket Rose. Sadly, Dynamite David was taken, as was Dinosaur Dave.

So, I ended up being, after a process of elimination, “Dynamo Dave.”
I cannot tell you how many times kids asked what a dynamo was.

Dynamo Dave in all his glory at a Halloween party (blood is fake, just fyi)

Very quickly, I was being sent out to children’s birthday parties and running after-school activities. It was actually a lot of fun … at first.

However, there was no variation. You either did kit A, B or C. You could not vary and could not deviate from their approved lesson plans. But, where’s the fun in that, right?

So, I went Frankenstein on the lesson plans for birthday parties.

Taking the specifics that the parents ordered (such as rocketry, the take-home, cotton candy, etc…), I began to cobble together the most interesting and cool experiments that would entertain as well as educate.

I’d start off with a magic trick on the birthday boy or girl that always amazed. Following that, it was time for the cooler stuff – fire.

Being mindful of safety, I would use alcohol to set some paper money afire, as well as have a candle re-light after blowing it out.

The most important thing, to me, was to make sure they kids being entertained were also learning about how fire works, why something happens and what makes it that way.

Following that, if the parents ordered it, I’d move on to dry ice. If not, then I’d do more experiments with fire and chemicals, explaining as I went. I would make beakers and flasks bubble and boil, change colour and spurt out soap … all the while explaining the science behind it as I did.

The next step was always my favourite: rockets. If the parents paid the premium, I would talk about space flight, how rockets work, thrust and good old gravity. Then, we’d go outside, prepare mission control and count down to launch.

The birthday boy or girl would press the launch button, of course.

The final step would be to make the take-home activity, which varied from super-bouncy balls, to gooey slime or silly putty. It was messy and aggravating work, but I learned a valuable lesson – sometimes they don’t work, so you better have made some beforehand, or the kids will riot.

And that would be the end, after a short experiment that left them in awe and singing happy birthday. Once the kids left, I would pack up, collect my fee and drive to my next engagement.

It was the perfect job, except the transportation became an issue.

They would have me drive all over the city and surrounding townships with only a one-hour buffer (which was actually 30 minutes, since there was a 15 minute start-up and pack-up time needed).

So, after one disastrous Saturday where I crisscrossed the city and broke the speed limit multiple times in fear of missing the party, I had enough. While the job was fun and management loved me and wanted me to go full-time, I had to call it quits.

I had to make a decision between school and the job, and I chose school, and it was a decision I do not regret to this day.

I did pick up a few “valuable life skills” from working birthday parties and after-school programs, such as making balloon animals.

And, I am not ashamed to admit, that the job was not being a mad scientist or a science entertainer – no, I was a science clown … and proud of it!!

For those who just want a little bit more science nerdy-ness in their lives, check out the video below – shot by my good friend, Carin Bondar, at the Science Online 2012 conference!
Can you spot my cameo?

My name is David, and I Am Science (AKA my origin story)

Posted by :David Manly On : January 30, 2012
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Category: acting, careers, Dinosaurs, Journalism, musicals, Science, Science Journalism, Science Online 2012, zoology

In the week since Science Online 2012 ended, there has been a lot of discussion over different social media platforms about the experience, what could be done differently, the highs and lows and most importantly, what could be discussed next year.

I’ve made a lot of new friends since the conference, and have already started discussing topics for next year.

But, this post isn’t going to be about that. This will be about something that came up after the conference by Kevin Zelnio.

Kevin wrote a post on his blog here about how he ended up in science and called it #IAmScience. In the post, he outlined how he ended up where he is today, and that not everyone takes the standard A – B path to end up involved in science. This one post spawned a whole host of other people online to share their stories, and this is mine.

I’ve talked on my blog before about how, as a child, I was obsessed with dinosaurs. That was my first real exposure to science and that there were cool jobs involved in the study of living (or extinct) things.

I was always a smart kid, and this gave me an outlet to channel my love of information and learning. I would consume books about dinosaurs by the bucket-load, and would beg my parents to take me to the museum again and again, just on the off-chance I’d see something new or learn a cool tidbit.

My parents obliged more often than not, and bought me books, videos, wooden fossil duplicates and more.

This passion for paleontology sustained me for many years, but it eventually gave way to something else: acting.

All the world’s a stage

My family, especially my dad and older sister, are movie buffs. We have seen just as many classics as current movies, and I grew up with this love of film and theatre. So, it really came as no surprise that I eventually stumbled into acting.

And boy, did I love it, especially acting in musicals.

My first role ever was in a summer camp production of Beauty and the Beast, where I played Belle’s horse, Phillipe. Those of you who know your Disney movies know that it was not a major role, but it was enough.

The following few years, I acted in a bunch of musicals in school, camp and beyond, even landing the main roles in a few of them. For more on my acting, you can see my post on LabSpaces here.

But science was always there.

Throughout middle school and high school, I continued to be fascinated by science. I’d do experiments, learn whatever I could, absorb knowledge like a sponge and tell everyone I met about all the cool things I learned. My aptitude was in biology, specifically, animal biology.

I loved learning everything I could about animals, from weird facts to behaviors to ecology and diet.

However, like all things, my love for biology was almost extinguished.

In grade 10 Biology, my teacher was horrible and sucked all the fun out of science. He gave the class so many problems that parents complained, but nothing ever changed.

Once, during a group lab, one of my friend’s aunts passed away, so he went to Vancouver for the funeral. Unbeknownst to us, he took all the lab material with him, so we could not hand it in.

We all got a zero.

After much hubbub and calls by all of our parents, the teacher eventually relented and gave us all what we deserved. But, the whole experience with that class made me realize that science just wasn’t fun anymore.

My parents, however, convinced me to take grade 11, just to “keep my options open,” and I am glad they did.

The teacher, Mr. T, was fantastic. He was funny, energetic, passionate and not afraid to answer complex questions. And my marks skyrocketed along with my interest.

I still remember, after getting 100% on our genetic test, I asked him about variation in sex chromosomes from sex-linked disorders. And, after class, using nothing but a pencil and paper, he explained to me about “crossing over” (where chromosomes occasionally touch and exchange whole portions of their genomes with each other).

That one explanation opened my eyes to a world of science that I never even thought about.

It was then my future was decided: I was going to be a vet, combining my love of animals and passion for science.

The times, they are a changin’

Veterinary school was never really an option, though, after a visit to the allergist.

My sister was allergic to fish, so we never had any in the house. But, when she went backpacking through Europe, my parents thought it was the ideal time.
And, let’s just say it didn’t go well.

The allergist said I was allergic to fish and needed to carry an Epi-Pen, as well as dropped the bomb that I had a mild allergy to dogs and cats. It was nothing serious, but enough that could warrant medication and potentially wear off.

“And I don’t know about you,” he said in a somber tone, “but I wouldn’t want someone operating on my dog or cat who had watery eyes and was sniffling.”

So, as quickly as the dream popped into my head, it was gone.
But then, my dad mentioned pursing a PhD, becoming an expert in a field and working in that area.

“And what do you love?” he said.
“Animals!” I responded enthusiastically.
“Well, that would be zoology then, wouldn’t it?”

Animal obsessed

So, that was my goal.

I went to university for biology and zoology, and loved it (even when I said I didn’t, which was often).

In my second year, I took the “Animals” course, and met a new professor called Dr. K. He was bright, engaging and really funny, so he was perfect for such a dense subject.

As the semester went on we got talking about our likes, dislikes, the course, my future, etc… and he became a mentor of sorts. He introduced me to different professors, encouraged me to take a variety of courses and helped steer my education in the way I wanted.

I even took his fish biology class in fourth year (luckily, there was no lab component).

To boost my resume, also in second year, I also started writing for the school newspaper. Nothing permanent, but I would write on occasion about cool research at the university, interesting things that were happening in biology around the world, and more. My favourite piece I ever wrote was an In Memorium piece to a hero of mine, Steve “Crocodile Hunter” Irwin, who perished in an accident with a stingray.

But the writing was always secondary to biology.

Then, during my fourth year, Dr. K approached me about doing research work in his lab.
But how, I asked, since he worked in a fish lab and I was deathly allergic?
As it turned out, he was looking to branch out to other animals, and would start up a whole area of the lab, just for me, using frogs as test animals.

How could I say no?

So, for a year, I worked there, adapting fish procedures for frogs, under the guise of an amazing grad student named H, and I loved it.

THIS was what I was meant to do, I said.

But once the experiment was over and the analysis began, I became listless. I didn’t like the sedentary being I was slowly becoming, by being attached to the lab bench every day performing the same chemical tests on tissues again and again. I loved the science and what I was doing, but I felt that what I was doing was not what I wanted.

A subtle shift

I realized this, as fate would have it, around Christmas of that year, when my grandfather passed away.

There was a moment, sitting in a chair at the retirement home where he had been living, where I asked myself “if I don’t want this, what else can I do?”

And then my sister did something.

She pulled out the latest article I had written for the school paper, and said that I’ve greatly improved as a writer.

“Huh, a writer,” I said to myself. “No one ever called me a writer before.”

Sure, English teachers and professors had complimented me on my writing, and my lab reports were always well done, but I figured that was because I read a lot.

So I thought about it while I continued to work at the lab.

Writing was something I never considered before, so I spoke to some professors, relatives and parents about it, and “journalism” kept popping up.

I could still learn about science, which I loved with a passion, and share it with others, which I had been doing ever since I was a little kid in the museum – science journalism seemed like a good fit.

So, crossing my fingers, I applied to some journalism schools in Canada for the Masters program, and got accepted by the most reputable one in the country.

It was a struggle going from science writing to writing about science, but I learned a lot and never strayed from my love of science.

Even though I am no longer attached to a lab bench, I am still tethered to science. I read copious amount of material, I blog and I share my love of science with an enthusiasm that knows no bounds.

I Am Science.

I Am Science from Mindy Weisberger on Vimeo.

Science Online 2012: A Post-Mortem

Posted by :David Manly On : January 24, 2012
3

Category: Article, blogging, friends, memories, North Carolina, Science, Science Online 2012

For those of you unaware, last Wednesday I travelled to the mystical land of Raleigh, North Carolina and attended a really unique conference entitled Science Online 2012. It is what is known as an “unconference,” where there are no lectures or presentations, but sessions that encourage and are built on discussion.
I could talk about all the fun that was had over there, the people I met for the first time in person (but have been talking to for years online) or the exciting times that were had. But, people have already written marvelous posts on that already (such as Ed Yong, Sarah Chow and more). Therefore, I will focus on a few things at the conference that really surprised me.
On the first day of the conference, after meeting countless people I’ve been talking to on Twitter for years, I decided to attend a variety of sessions. Most surprisingly, practically right out of the gate, one immediately blew me away.
The session, entitled “Sex, gender and controversy: writing to educate, writing to titillate” was moderated by the amazing @KateClancy and the incredible @scicurious about a blogger’s identity, comment moderation and the difficulty of being outspoken and passionate about science.
Prior to the conference, both Kate and Sci had posted blogs that received a lot of flack. And not constructive criticism, mind you, but a variety of hateful and mean-spirited comments that insulted their intelligence, status and even gender.
Now, I’ve been lucky, the readers of my blog have been quite kind. And some have criticized me about mistakes or called me out on a few things, but it was always done with tact. But never like those two ladies described, and while others recounted their experiences with similar situations, I was struck by the courage writers have.
Yes, we get criticized a lot, that is just a fact of nature.
It is one thing to get in a discussion about a fact or opinion, but another to discredit a the thoroughly researched and hard-worked piece simply because of gender. That is not right, that is not appropriate and that is not the age I thought we lived in.
But then Kate said something.
“You just need to keep going. Wipe yourself off, make your next one better and show them you are better than they are.”
Now that takes balls for anyone for anyone to do.
Even after attending numerous different sessions throughout the conference that one sticks in my mind as a clear standout.
Another surprising element from the conference was that notable bloggers/writers were happy to talk to everyone. While some people knew who I was (and that was fantastic), I was really surprised just how nice everyone was, whether they were “famous” or not.
But the greatest thing about the conference was how easily the friendships cultivated online, through Twitter, Facebook or whatever other social media platforms, seamlessly moved into meeting in person.
There are a few shout outs I must make, to those who made my time at the conference just that much more memorable. I have already thanked some of them via Twitter, but it is still an incomplete list. However, I am pasting those I have done here for all to see.
Favourite #scio12 moments:
My session with @DrRubidium, where we made people laugh (and think) using Mel Brooks movie clips
Talking at great length with @sciencecomedian and actually making him laugh more than once!
Holding court with the almost too amazing for words @jeannegarb in the #DSN suite (and later during the endnote)
Helping out @DrBondar and @sciencegoddess with the film festival (technical glitches and all)
Spending time with the fascinating @astvintagespace and bonding over space, university and telling stories
Getting my armpits swabbed for microbes by @DrHolly … FOR SCIENCE
Meeting @experrinment and watching her draw & sketch fabulous works of art
@arikia and @hannahjwaters using very different “methods” to open my locked from the inside hotel room door
There are more wonderful people who I met that I’ve forgotten and others who aren’t on the list but deserve to be.
See you all next year!

Childhood joy

Posted by :David Manly On : January 13, 2012
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Category: Childhood, Dinosaurs, Passion, Reading, Royal Ontario Museum

When I was a child, I started reading later than most kids (or so my parents tell me).

From what they say, it wasn’t that I found it difficult, just that I did not feel like I needed to. They tried to engage me with a variety of books, and I’d do it for a while, but quickly get bored.

Then, they found some books that interested me: dinosaurs.

I took to reading about dinosaurs like nothing else. I read everything I could get my hands on, from children’s books with more pictures than words, to big anthologies with printing I had to squint to read.

I was so ravenous for information, that my twin brother and I would beg our parents to take us to our local museum (the Royal Ontario Museum or ROM) to see the dinosaur skeletons. But, there was a catch – to see the dinosaurs, you had to go through an area known as “the bat cave” … which had nothing to do with Batman.

The cave was a S-shaped dark tunnel that featured real and fake bats on display, and I was terrified, because what young child is not afraid of the dark? I would cover my eyes and ears and walk through as fast as I could to reach the terrible lizards.

Seeing the Tyrannosaurus Rex was always a highlight of the trip, as it was considered the “bad boy” of the dinosaur world. Who would mess with something that had teeth the size of steak knives?

But, as much as meat eaters were fun to look at and imagine having as a pet, I was always drawn to the herbivores more. I am not quite sure why, but maybe it was because that in the evolutionary arms race, they had to protect, as opposed to destroy.

Everyone has his or her list of favourite dinosaurs, and I was no exception. I would tell everyone I knew about Stegosaurus with the golf ball–sized brain, the intimidating-looking Ankylosaurus and Dimetrodon, with its trademark sail.

I was so obsessed with dinosaurs that my brother and I would check books out from our school library over and over again, as we just couldn’t get enough of the information and pictures! We checked them out so much, that when our librarian retired, she donated those two most checked-out books to us.

The obsession went even beyond that.

During our countless trips to the ROM, my brother and I would correct the tour guides on pronunciation of nomenclature, locations where the bones were found, the time frame and more. I almost feel bad for the tour guides, but they should have known that stuff, right?

Not surprisingly, my first “dream” job was to be a paleontologist and travel all over the world discovering new dinosaur species.
Honestly, how good would a dinosaur that was named “Manly” be?

Over the years, though, as I got older, that dream slowly faded. But the enthusiasm and passion still remains.

And yet, whenever I visit a museum, I always make a point to visit the dinosaurs and just marvel at them. I enjoy watching the kids staring at them in wonder, listening to the tour guides explain who is who, but most of all, I love remembering a long-forgotten fact and sharing it with a child. Because you know the first thing they will do is go back to their parent/guardian and ask if they knew that … and if they didn’t, that’s a great joy for a child to experience.

I still love learning about dinosaurs and staring at them with wonder and a huge smile on my face. I still get excited if I see a Stegosaur, Dimetrodon or T. Rex.

I still love them to this day, as that kind of fervent passion never dies – it always stays with you.

So, don’t be ashamed of a passion you still carry with you from when you were younger. Whether it is comic books, video games, magic tricks or a love of prehistoric animals, they are amazing and help make up the beautiful mosaic that is you.