Storms Within

Come
Take me
Cauterize my bleeding heart
Cover my silence with your mouth
My breath is yours
Your taste is mine
As you lose yourself
Inside me.

Close
The gap
The chasm widens deeper
Always reaching
And pulling back
Afraid to give each other
Echoes of yesterday foul
Our todays.

Touching
Not embracing
Fear dictates the tempest
The emptiness inside us
Fleeting whispers
Tentative words
Storms reflected in
our eyes.

My First Law

A friend suggested I post my Laws. So I shall.

First Law: Where there's a positive, there is a negative.

Everything operates in systems; everything is a trade-off. My first law parallels one of the most basic laws of nature: the conservation of energy. It cannot be created or destroyed. It simply flows from one system to another in a variety of forms.

As British scientist and author C. P. Snow interprets the First Law of Thermodynamics [1]:

"You cannot win (that is, you cannot get something for nothing, because matter and energy are conserved)."

This of course precludes its sibling, the Second Law of Thermodynamics, addressing the direction of that conservation. Again, in the words of Snow:

"You cannot break even (you cannot return to the same energy state, because there is always an increase in disorder; entropy always increases)."

Natural proccesses that involve energy transfer go in one direction and that process is irreversible. Steven Hawking explains it thusly using time as an example: when time moves in a foward direction and one breaks a cup of coffee on the floor, no matter what happens, in our universe, one will never see the cup reform. Cups are breaking all the time, but never reforming.

Another parallel is Newton's Third Law of Motion: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Forces always involve interactions and they always come in pairs - equal and opposite action-reaction force pairs. Examples of this law abound in nature: the wings of a bird push air downwards. In turn, the air reacts by pushing the bird upwards.

Thus the Tao of physics, the yin and yang. Yet it is not a simple Descartian duality for which there is an invisible division. Opposites are always in motion, transitioning from one to the other; it is the complementation of natural proccesses.

The natural order requires complementation between the harmonious rule of order and a continuing respect for the fertility of chaos. Order needs to be at all times suppliant and responsive to fertile transition so that new order can emerge from the natural ferment of chaos.

Our reality is a paradoxical complement of our subjective consciousness and the physical universe. That physical universe is itself a paradox of relativity and quantum uncertainty in which the future and the past become lost in probabilities. The description of physical reality is no more and no less than a narrative told about the stabilities and correspondences of our conscious experience.

Thus the philosophy that attempts to understand the fundamental nature of all reality, whether visible or invisible; it seeks a description so basic, so essentially simple, so all-inclusive that it applies to everything: metaphysics.

This is the First Law. It is the Tao.

Quantum physics will always be controversial, it hinges on the metaphysical thus it is almost like trying to describe God.

[1] The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution (1959)

Know Thine Enemy.....

...and you will know yourself. Are we our worst enemy? We don't have to be.

No, I think we are all bozos on this bus of life [1].

“Imagine a universe in which your feelings, thoughts, and memories are not your enemy. They are your history brought into the current context, and your own history is not your enemy.”
- Steven Hayes, psychologist

[1] Referencing Firesign Theater's last (1971) 'early' production , I Think We Are All Bozos On This Bus. For the underlying meaning of the reference, visit this website for the CD liner notes, especially those written by Phil Austin.

Who's Weird?

I never set out to be weird. It was always the other people who called me weird.
-- Frank Zappa, to The Baltimore Sun, October 12, 1986

Darwin's Challenge on Sex and Selection

And a challenge for all of us to think outside our boxes.

Joan Roughgarden, a Stanford University biologist, challenges classical Darwinian sexual selection theory with her book Evolution's Rainbow and paper, "Reproductive social behavior: cooperative games to replace sexual selection," published last February in Science. She and co-authors propose an alternative model based on game theory to replace Darwin's Venus and Mars sexual selection theory. The classic model of men want sex and women want to cuddle pervades our culture and perhaps it dictates our biology and what we are without questioning if it is the only valid model.

But what about the prevalence of 'aberrant' sex? Horny women, bi- and homosexuality, and polygamy.....Oh my!! Unquestionably branded as aberrant sexual behavior in human culture, it is not uncommon in other species. The current issue of SEED lists 450 species, as a matter of fact. Raising various mammalian specimens myself (rats, mice, dogs, cat, sheep, horses, rabbits...) over a lifetime, I questioned the omnipotence of the classical sexual selection model based on observation of these species, including our own.

Roughgarden's paper expectantly caused a disturbance in the arena of biologists with a barrage of rebuttals and letters to the editor (see link below) and elsewhere. While Roughgarden proposes to replace Darwin's classical theory, perhaps expanding upon it would be more productive and reflective of the real world.

In a discussion appearing in SEED of Roughgarden's proposed model and the controversy*, author Jonah Lehrer aptly writes:

"Roughgarden's cataloging of sexual diversity has challenged a fundamental biological theory. If Darwinian sexual selection -whatever its current variant- —is to survive, it must adapt to this new data and come up with convincing explanations for why a host of animals just aren't like peacocks."

Time for all biologists to step outside their box for a moment and consider Roughgarden's points.

* The Gay Animal Kingdom, online article and in the June/July 2006 printed issue.

Abstract for Roughgarden et. al. paper and listing of published rebuttals in Science .

Science Idol: the Scientific Integrity Editorial Cartoon Contest

Here's your chance, all you budding cartoonists!

The Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS) birthed a brainstorm for a contest to speak out. Using satire in the form of cartoons, contestants are invited to take meaningful pot shots at the current US administration's track record on science. Aptly named "Science Idol", contestants can make fun of the administration's attempts at control and distortion of science.

Two categories allow amateur and professional cartoonists to submit their entries which are due by July 31, 2006. Twelve finalists will be selected by celebrity judges and these will be judged by the public for the winners.

For more information on entries and prizes, visit the UCS website.

I hope Gahan Wilson submits an entry.

Blog cloning

In the spirit of yin and yang, I have two blog sites. Thinking back to little more than a year ago, this activity began reluctantly as an experiment recommended by a friend to help me overcome a bad case of writer's block. Being a freelance writer, such an obstruction can be deleterious to not only supplemental income but the mind. Writing is like singing, painting, dancing, and telling stories: it is a form of expression of the heart and soul. When a writer has writer’s block it is akin to “I have no mouth and I must scream”. *

My problem is I can't type fast enough or access to a medium is unavailable when needed the most. I am waiting for technology to develop a flash drive that can be inserted directly into the brain and to which I can download my thoughts, remove later and upload to my computer. Reading the weekly science and technology news, that may happen soon; I'll be the first to volunteer testing a prototype.

The experiment simultaneously succeeded and backfired. Writer's block is gone and my writing expression has evolved and blossomed. I've published several works since then, even delving into other genres under a pseudonym (don't ask; I'm not telling). Unfortunately deadlines continue to hover over me and I'm just as much a procrastinator as before. The two books I am working on still progress at a snail's pace.

My passion is life, although what you mostly read here in these two blogs are two special passions: science and riding motorcycles. In some ways the two are similar: journeys into the unknown. Both science and riding involve destinations, technology and processes. Yet a component of both many don’t consider is the journey; the journey of discovery. That is an important common denominator and a recurring feature that winds its way in and around these blog posts. (Did the word ‘cloning’ in the title give you a clue?)

Because the motorcycle posts have become more frequent, I decided to devote a new blog site to them: Meanderings on Two Wheels. Over time I will be moving the bike and riding content from the original blog site (Whose Reality is This?) to the newer bike site. I will leave some of the original bike posts where they were originally posted, but not all. As I move them I will post an update in the bike site. Otherwise they will be hidden in the archives. If any code monkeys out there know how I can add a function to a side bar for recently added posts independently from the date, help would be appreciated. Until then, watch for notices of posts moved from this site.

Recently moved:
My Zen of Motorcycle Riding
Walkabout
April's Fool Day

* Short story by the same name by science fiction and commentator Harlan Ellison. Be forewarned if you read this story; it is highly emotive and powerful. It may birth nightmares.

If I Were Head of State: Due Parte

I would proclaim and enforce a fee of a dime for every vehicle turning and not using their turn signal. I suspect the national deficit would be eliminated in one year.

Snot Rockets

I have of late spent most of my rare time at home mowing the flora on my five acres of Solitude in Central Texas. Thanks to modern technology and Sears, a tractor with a 48" mowing deck is my saviour. Despite my raging torment of unattaching and removing the deck to extract a wayward rope that had entwined itself around the blades, and then putting it all back together, I love my mower. Mowing the property serves as a relaxing activity while I play patterns and games with the terrain, mower heights, tractor speed and the obstacle course that I live on (thorny mesquite bushes, pond, etc). The challenge of mowing a pattern that is as efficient as possible is akin to a chess game. I lose sometimes.

A major obstacle is my allergy to grass pollen. Those tiny misshaped granules that help procreate the many species of grasses wreck havoc on my immune system. The little mast cells that are the soldiers in the first line of defence in the mucus membranes bombard my nose, eyes and skin with histamine, setting off a cascade of mucus production.

"Attack!!!!"

Membrane cells secrete that viscous sticky stuff called 'mucus', chock full of proteoglycans, salts and enzymes that trap and degrade small foreign particles and agents as a protective mechanism. Yet, a hypersensivity to certain allergens such as grass pollen can elicit mucus production like no tomorrow and the nose becomes a running faucet. In that instance, it becomes less of a friendly 'protective' evolutionary function and more a nuisance and downright pain in the nose. It rightly earns the name: 'snot'.

This leads to the question: What does one do when he/she encounters an attack on all fronts by enemy allergens and the battle wages to the point where you can't keep up with the mucus production by snuffling it back up your sinuses?

Well, the old remedy that all outdoorsy people are familiar with: the 'snot rocket'.
Just aim well.

I read the following this morning in my recent issue of New Scientist in the section: The Last Word, where readers submit questions which are answered by other readers. Here it was; the 'snot rocket'.

Is it coincidence a human finger fits exactly into a human nostril. If not, why does my mum tell me not to do it?

Your mother may not approve, but there is a way to clear your nose without sticking anything inside it. It's called the "snot rocket". Just push against the side of one nostril to close it off, take a deep breath, close your mouth and exhale as hard and sharply as you can through your other nostril. You'll be amazed how fast the contents shoot out. Just make sure you tilt your head away from your body to avoid peppering yourself.

Nose-clearing tactics like the snot rocket mean there is no life-or-death reason for the co-evolution of digging digits and large, inviting nostrils. After all, nose blockage is easily managed by breathing through your mouth. In fact, a blocked nose is really only a problem if something gets lodged near your nasal bones, where it is dangerously close to your brain. That is a region where human fingers are too podgy to be of any use. A rather thrilling story of a primatologist, some tweezers and an engorged Ugandan tick comes to mind.

Sexual selection might have favoured the relationship of finger to nostril if, say, females in the Pleistocene preferred mating with males who picked their noses, or if males and females picked each other's noses in a courtship ritual. However, that would be taking reciprocal grooming a little far.

So we must conclude that, yes, it is mere coincidence that your fingers fit so nicely into your nostrils. I doubt the made-for-each-other argument is going to change your mum's opinion of rhinotillexomania. I suggest you demonstrate the snot rocket instead and see what she says.

Holly Dunsworth, State College, Pennsylvania, US

Note: I recall commenting to a close friend once "You know how close and trusting we are when I can pick the buggers from your nose." Better all out of the nose than half out........

...and A View to the Sky

For all you fellow astronomy nerds out there, especially those with telescopes, here's your chance: Comet 73P. In 1995 this comet unexpectantly broke up into at least 58 pieces. Earlier part of this week, many pieces will have passed within 12 million miles of our planet. This is only 30 times as far away as our moon, thus the closest comet within the last 20 years.

A meteor shower is expected to be seen between May 19 and June 19 of this year as Earth passes through the edges of the comet's tail. The largest and brightest fragment (called Fragment C), and thought to be the main bulk of the comet, may be visible to the naked eye in dark skies. Fragment B, the next brightest comet fragment, may require binoculars.

You can read more about the history of and expected passing of Comet 73P's remains at the Comet Chasers website.

Wow, what a treat: a recent full moon and now comets!

View From the Table

I am an outlier amongst my own gender.

A bookstore-aholic, I often find solace in the bookstores amongst the book and magazine racks and the cafes. Once inside, like a lion scoping its prey, my focus is automatic and efficient, stratigically directed to those areas of the store that give me instant gratification. Gods forbid anyone who is in my way.

I head first to the science magazine section and peruse my favored magazines, New Scientist, SEED and American Scientist. Scanning the covers, one or two seem to magically appear in one hand before I move on. The first two are unquestionably worth perusing, even though I subscribe to the first. Odd that; the current issue adorns the store racks sometimes days before mine arrives in my departmental mail box.

Next, on to the motorcycle magazines. This is a hunting activity for they are rarely grouped by category of bikes or riding. Considering the variety of publication releases, from monthly, bimonthly to quarterly, finding good reading material has become a game of hide-and-seek and "What's on the stand today?" or "Where the hell is it now?". This time, I chose a British bike rag on the advice of a fellow adventure rider:

"If you really want to learn about the bike world, read the European rags. Bikes and riding are a way of life there. Here, bikes are recreation and show."

He's right. The real 'meat' of riding motorcycles is in Europe and Asia. Bikes and scooters are often the sole transportation of many people there. Riding for sport and pleasure is a close second. It's a very different perspective and grasp of being mobile there. It makes me wish I could live and move amongst them.

After plucking one, two motocycle magazines, I turn on my heel and head out of the magazine racks, glancing at the woodworking and homebuilding rags. Ah, the latest issue of Fine Homebuilding. Instantly plucking that issue, I round the corner and head into the cafe. Nodding a "Hello" at the clerk behind the counter and finding a table near the windows, I stack the magazines in the order of interest for the evening: homebuilding at the bottom, two science rags, a Texas riding issue, and the British bike rag on top. After spending an entire day entrenched in science, including reading papers on the train home, I crave a brief respite.

Returning to my table with a sandwich and a tall ice tea, I eat slowly and look around me. Two tables are occupied by women: two girls of college freshman age at one, two middle-aged women at the other. The two younger girls are chit chatting, leafing through celebrity rags with pictures of glamor men and women adorning the slick colored pages. They appear to be critiquing them judging from their fingers pointing at the figures on pages. I reminds me of the plastic paper people with stick-on and take-off clothes that kids play with.

The two older women are reading Cosmos, Home Journal and Good Housekeeping. Pages filled with "How to lose that fat butt in 6 days" or "How to keep the sex alive in your marriage", interspersed with magical decorations for home, husband and family. Here, cut this out and hang it on your wall and your life will be fulfilled and happy. All this interspersed with an hour-long discussion on what color to paint the dining room, who to hire to mow the lawn, and "Oh, by the way, did you hear about Isabel......"

I can't help but notice that I'm shaking my head, not understanding how such things can captivate their attention and time and grateful that my life is empty of similar occupations that could be better utilized contemplating Stephen Hawking's recent proclamation of multi-universes and reality existing in the eye's of the beholder. Or the many roads I want to travel on my bike.

I look down at my own table and I see magazines that reflect a very different pool of interest and past time than these other women. And I wonder how I ended up so different from others of my own gender. Yet quite satisfied with who I am.

In the line to pay, an older black man behind me strikes up a conversation:

"You know, in a moment, this moment will be gone. Forever gone."

After a moment's thought, I reply "Yes, but then there will be a new moment to replace the one that is gone."

[nodding] Mmhmm.... That is right. And then another moment will replace that one, too."

"Yes, and then another and another. And all those moments replaced will be memories."

"Yessah, and some of those memories may stay, some may be lost. "

"Very true. >And new ones will appear to replace those lost."

"Mmmhmm. Now I wonder if you will remember this conversation after several moments."

Smiling broadly, I reply, "Yes, sir. I will remember this conversation in several moments and for many more after that. And remember this: 'No matter where you go, there you are'."

"Hmm... yes, I like that. Well, young lady, you have a good evening. Yes, I like that...."

Now where else can you go and talk metaphysics to strangers but in a bookstore?

Battles

"When a shepherd goes to kill a wolf, and takes his dog to see the sport, he should take care to avoid mistakes. The dog has certain relationships to the wolf the shepherd may have forgotten."

- Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

We Are All Monkeys

Or more accurately, apes.

One of the most brilliant media commentaries on just who we really are: The Monkeys
..... are us.

"Attention! There are monkey boys in the facility!!"
(anyone know this movie reference? )

In the Age of Politically Correct

I watched with trepidation this Age blossom and pollinate over the last twenty-plus years. Now its seeds are growing all over the world. In several places, it has become a noxious weed.

Even the term ‘Politically Correct’ has been deemed politically incorrect. It’s “offensive’. I still haven’t quite determined who is offended by it and why. But I am astute enough to note the furrowed eyebrows and tight lips when it is mentioned.

Mick Hume, an editor of spiked online of the UK, aptly coined it “The Age of Intolerant Tolerance”.

“The pattern goes like this. Tony Blair says that we have to meet the extremist threat by 'championing our values of freedom, tolerance and respect for others'. Then his ministers announce new plans to criminalise 'indirect incitement' of terrorism, along with tougher proposals to outlaw 'incitement to religious hatred'.

The government must have a different dictionary than I do. Mine defines tolerance as 'broad-mindedness' or 'permitting free expression of views one does not share'. In the Whitehall Newspeak edition, however, tolerance appears to mean the opposite. In order to defend our tolerant society we apparently have to ban views that most people do not share. Welcome to the age of intolerant tolerance.”

Hume’s new label is apposite for this growing weed. The UK is not the only fertile soil for its growth. Pervasive here in the US, it permeates through every faction of our society, even in science. And our government condones or secretively encourages it, as long as it is to their advantage.

How do we turn the tide? Start with yourself, your neighbors, coworkers, friends, newspapers, local societies and committees. Start with the grass roots. Prolific, strong and healthy grass eventually chokes weeds which dwindle down to form a balanced ecology. And the pasture thrives.

“We need to tolerate the 'free expression of views one does not share', in order that we can sort out the truth in the open, instead of trying to bury difficult issues beneath a pile of bans. Let everybody freely express their views - and let us all have the freedom ruthlessly to question, criticise and interrogate everything that is said, about everything from religion to race, from suicide bombings to British values. Now more than ever we need freedom of speech for a frank and 'broad-minded' debate about the sort of society we live in and where it is heading.”

Reiterating a quote from Voltaire:

“'Think for yourselves, and let others enjoy the privilege of doing so too.”

Too bad we have forgotten how to think for ourselves.

If I were Head of State.......

1. Everyone would be permitted to voice their opinions. That’s what they are: opinions. If they offend you, debate them intelligently, learn to filter them, or pull your head into your shell.
2. Everyone will have the right to make wrong decisions. Learn from the consequences. Or be eliminated from the gene pool.
3. Everyone is not created equal. We are not clones. Deal with it.
4. There will be more than two political parties. There are more than two ideologies; let’s have better representation.
5. All science funding will be deposited into a central fund and disseminated based upon merit, not on sexy biotechnology. The Good Ole’ Boy’s Club will be replaced by representatives from qualifying committees and societies.
6. Science journal impact factors will be negative numbers only.
7. Birth control will be distributed free and without discrimination.
8. A Stupidity Test will be a mandatory component of marriage licenses. Applicants that fail will be required to complete a high school diploma and classes in “How to Be a Functioning and Responsible Human Being” before reapplying.
9. A requirement of living with a potential spouse for two years must be satisfactorily fulfilled before applying for a marriage license. Applicants must also prove an established household income.
10. Separation between religion and state will be strictly enforced. There is no debate.
11. I reserve the right to add more to this list.

Natural

Ending yesterday's ride, I rode up the ramp on Red into the shop, turned off the engine and sat in the saddle for a long moment.

Removing my helmet, I told my friend Chris that I find more and more as I ride that I don't want to get off. His smiling eyes and face reflected a knowing understanding.

While reading* on the train this morning, I came across a passage that explains it all:

"Being on the machine seems more natural than being off it."

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert Persig.

Ghost Riders in the Sky

Nothing is as impressive and electrifying as, well, a Texas electrical storm. Lightening between the clouds on the horizon teases with a hint of impending powerful elements or titillates the visual senses with a tame lightshow. Close observation of the swiftly moving clouds may reveal the direction of the storm, but they can deceive as well as promise. Winds can suddenly shift, temperatures plummet, and barometric pressure swing wildly as a storm passes near or approaches.

I awoke in the middle of the night to a strong palpable smell of moisture and earth in the air. Arising from bed I watched lightening dance between the blue-black clouds in the northwest horizon. The still air and the haunting contrast of darkness blanketing the ground with the subtle flickering of light in the clouds presented a surreal world around me. Silence betrayed the distance of the storm and I returned to my slumber.

I was awoken again later in the night by a furtive wind, sneaking through the open windows and rustling the curtains. Lying in bed I pondered if my guest was an edge of the storm passing by or a harbinger of elemental fury. As if deliberately answering my questions, sudden gusts of wind shook the house and whipped through the windows. Anything light enough in the house and in the wind’s path scattered the floor like fallen soldiers beset by an army of omnipotent invisible beings.

Jumping from my warm bed, I was greeted by relentless and imbricating lightening and thunder, the light flashing all around me like strobe lights. Streaks of lightening seared through my vision, superimposed on the ground and the sky as if they were umbilical cords. I struggled against the wind to close the windows in the direct line of assault, leaving the opposite windows open to delight in the elemental fury upon me.

Standing in the middle of the house with the onslaught and fury of wind, rain, thunder and lightening surrounding me, electricity crept up my body, my skin tingled, my heart pounded harder with every close clap of thunder. Lightening strikes were close enough to deliver a luminance brighter than daylight albeit in a fraction of time and space. I felt like an immortal in a vortex of Nature’s chaos as the elements engulfed my senses.

As quickly as it descended, the storm passed me by. A gentle cleansing rain was left behind to clear the air and quiet the senses and heart. With a rhythmic and soft pattering on the windows and roof, I returned to a deep sleep and dreams.

Sure enough, Nature’s wild horses left me a reminder of their presence in the morning. I suspected during the night several strikes of lightening were close. Sure enough, the circuit board in my truck was blown.

Ah well. Horses leave behind roadside apples. Wild horses riding on the storm can leave behind mementos, too. Shit happens.

Buttology

First Scatology, now Buttology.
What's next? Penisology? Hmm......

Rear Admirable
David Holmes, a psychologist at Manchester Metropolitan University, insists that a good bum is key to attractiveness, and he's devised a formula that describes the ideal female buttocks. According to Holmes, maximizing ^{(S + C) x (B + F)}/_T - V makes for gluteal greatness. S is overall shape of the bottom, C is circularity (how spherical the butt is), B is resilience to bouncing and wobbling, F is touch firmness, T is skin texture and V is the vertical ratio or "pertness." Holmes added that a hip to waist ratio—waist size divided by hip size—of 0.7 is ideal for framing a woman's posterior.

Holmes found the formula by getting 2,000 British women to rate their own bottoms. In the shape category, those with a "trodden doughnut" got only one point, whereas those with a "small peach" scored the maximum five points. After compiling all the factors, a total of 80 points was labeled "perfection," whereas booties earning fewer than zero points were told to "stay indoors." But don't fear, saggy bottom girls, Holmes writes, "Failing all else, confidence and good conversation can sometimes distract attention, if not compensate for a 'bum deal' in the buttock lottery."

"Borrowed" from online Seed Magazine, New and Notable

The Honesty Meme

I came across a passage in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig that was an echo from my own past.

A brief converstaion between Pirsig's son, Chris, and he:
"Dad?"

"What?"

"What should I be when I grow up?"

I don't know what to say. "Honest," I finally say.

I recall asking my father the same question. I clearly remember his response:
"Whatever you want to do, whatever you want to be. But always be honest to yourself and to others."

I've tried hard to do just that, Dad. I've changed my mind a few times, but at least I'm honest about that.

If my daughter reads this, I want to tell her the same: always be honest with yourself and with others. And follow the path that has heart.

"Paranoia strikes deep.......

.....into your heart it will creep. Starts when you're always afraid. Step out of line, the Man comes and takes you away."

A flashback from the '60's. Yet history has a nasty habit of repeating itself.

The event of 911 evoked a rekindling of community, cooperation, altruism and cohesiveness amongst not only a city but a nation. It even expanded globally.

For a short time.

Then we 'reacted'. Since then, our country has degenerated into a nation of paranoia and fear in the guise of 'patriotism' and 'right'. Without an honest definition of each. In essence, the terrorists were successful. Look around you; read the papers, watch television, watch and talk to people. We are all afraid of ghosts. Mostly our own.

I mourn what we have lost, what we have become and what we could be.

The following is a small example that trickles down like acid rain on marble:
As a researcher in the medical field, disposable sterile scalpels are used in our labs for grossing tissues. I called to order a box of disposable scalpels from one of the largest scientific vendors in the country that has supplied most of the medical research and hospital labs here for years. Their reputation is impeccable.

I was informed that they were suddenly prohibited from shipping disposable scalpels by the federal government. They were waiting for 'approval' and I was encouraged to call back in 7-10 days. Two weeks later when I called to place the order, I was informed that the responsible federal bureau still had not released an 'approval' to ship disposable scalpels. With detectable frustration and apologies, they could offer no prediction of when that approval would be forthcoming.

I called another vendor that sells and ships medical supplies and was greeted with the same scenario.

We have become a nation of fear. We are afraid of ourselves.
We see ghosts and they don't even know they are ghosts.