The Ash Creek Papers

From an address to the Royal Academy of Sciences by Stephen Hawking, distinguished Theoretical Physicist and Cosmologist, Member of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences, Honorary Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge and a Fellow Waiting to Cross the Road.

Yes, yes… thank you, thank you very much. It is an honor to be here addressing you on a topic that has perplexed scientists and ethical humanitarians for hundreds hundreds and hundreds of years. This includes my barber, who just the other day asked me, “Doctor Hawking, do you think that there is life on other planets… I mean Doctor, life as we know it?”  To which I replied, “don’t take too much off the sides.”  But, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Royal Academy, Felix… that is the name of my barber, I believe his Father was a barber before him, as well… raises a point of key subtlety… not just is there life, which we might take to mean a rock-like looking object that could inexplicably jiggle like bowl of cherry jell-o… cherry being my favorite flavour; but rather, is there life as we know it, which we might take to mean is there something on Neptune, as an example, that could put on spikes and play goalie for Manchester United.  Now granted, this may at first glance sound far fetched, although I put to you that it is more probable that a life form looking like Admiral Ackbar is far better equipped to play for Manchester United, rather than some variation of a slime mold.  Now I do not mean to suggest to this distinguished audience, that we should completely discount the possibility that a mold possessing considerable gifts could and would indeed be a welcome addition to Manchester United, or to Arsenal, for that matter.   But I digress. The point is we should be on guard about assuming too much of what we think is the norm for life as we know it.  First, who is the “we”?  I mean, was Felix including me in the we… or maybe he was including just his family and other barbers, to include his Father.  Truly, what can their assumption of life be?  Maybe it’s just primates, or other mammals… and perhaps some broad leaf ferns. Or maybe it’s just barbers, beauticians and sales clerks.  Do you understand my point? And what did Felix mean by “know”? Is it possible that his frame of reference was the Bible.  And we all know what “know” means in the Bible. *ahem* I hope I haven’t offended anyone.  But there are “racey” parts in the Good Book.  So there you are… even the very question “is there life as we know it?”, creates questions. Rather, we should be open, not to the possibility; but to the likelihood that life does exist on other planets… probably all the planets!  Consider Neptune with an atmosphere of 80% Hydrogen and 19% Helium with trace amounts of methane. So?  Just because it’s not particularly good for human habitation, does that exclude the possibility that there is life that might prefer that atmosphere “recipe”… that it would be the “perfect cup of tea” for them.  And the air temperature of -218 c., which we would find exceedingly cold, although we wouldn’t have to worry about food spoiling, or using sun screen; but the inhabitants there would be perfectly equipped and adapted to that environment.  If we could develop velcro and the three-way light bulb here, what is to preclude the inhabitants on Neptune from manufacturing layers of protection to withstand the frigid temperatures?  And not the bulky and silly looking space suits that we have developed; but a micro layer that fits like a pair of pantyhose.  And the inhabitants could move about Neptune as freely as we take a stroll in Kensington Gardens, only without the swans and warning signs to stay off the grass. The inhabitants would be perfectly tuned into their life, absorbing “healthy” methane into their systems, processing it without difficulty and converting it into a fuel appropriate for launching vehicles into space… just like we do.  Although the gas that we create on a personal level can have a foul smell, it isn’t really strong enough to launch craft into space, at least in most cases. Remember, there are always exceptions… and this reminds me of an amusing joke that Carl Sagan told me, he had read it in the National Lampoon… Question: What is the difference between a Martian fart and a sandstorm? Answer: A sandstorm doesn’t glow in the dark! Hah, hah, hah. I love that joke! Ah, Carl… qui ferunt sed nung ad astra! But let us return to Neptune.  We will not only learn that there is life as we know it; but we will find that we have more in common with those life forms, than that which differentiates us.  In fact we may have more in common with inhabitants of Neptune than we do with Americans… hah, hah, hah. Just kidding. Which brings me back to an earlier point… the reason why I love cherry jell-o so much is because when you squish it thru your teeth and then smile it makes you look real scary and like maybe you come from Neptune, although I really come from Oxford.  In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen, when you step outside and cast your eyes to the heavens you may ask “is there life there as we know it?” at the same time across a gazillion miles of space there is a Neptunian looking at the same heavens and asking, “si herte elfi herte sa ew wonk ti?”  Thank you, thank you very much.

Emperor Penguins will stay with the same mate for the duration of their lives.  Each year the female penguin transfers her egg to her mate for an incubation period that lasts for sixty-four days.  While the female heads to the sea to forage, the male keeps the single egg balanced on the tops of its feet and off the pack ice.  When the female returns to the colony, she picks up the distinctive “call” of her mate, and they then share in taking care of their chick, until it fledges before the following breeding season.  For adult penguins this cycle repeats, and repeats, and repeats… and repeats.

PAIGE: Hey, where the hell are you going?  It’s almost time for me to pass our egg over to you!

MILTON: Great!  I have to go the john.

PAIGE: Now?  Now you have to go to the john?

MILTON: Yeah, easy for you!  You’ll be off swimming with your girl friends in the pristine open ocean… stuffing yourself on squid and such… having a grand ‘ol time. Yeah… me? I have to stand up in sub-zero temperatures, impossible winds, in the dark, next to 150 other guys in the “huddle” for sixty-four straight days.  Oh… did I mention: no bathroom breaks!  You better believe I’m going!  Last year Bartlett couldn’t hold it in!

PAIGE: Couldn’t hold it in?

MILTON: Whatta foul smelling mess!! And when the huddle moved around we all had to step in it!  Keeping in mind that we have to balance that damn egg on our feet… oh, and did I mention that it was in the dark?  And what does Crawford say?  Him with that phony British accent of his, “I say, this is dreadful, a chap should take better care of his physical needs.”

PAIGE: Well…

MILTON: Well nothing! I’m going to the john.  Where’s my copy of Sports Illustrated?  I might be a while.

PAIGE: The swim suit issue?

MILTON: No one likes a smart ass Paige.  You know… I hate to say it… but we have to be the laughing stock of the animal kingdom!  Sixty-four days standing up in the freezing cold… in the dark with an egg on your feet… and they call us Emperor Penguins!  I hear there are other penguins… happy penguins, called Galactic Ruler Penguins… they bask in tropical waters, the guys wear Bermuda shorts and sport shirts with small embroidered alligators and they sip mai tai’s, read the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Issue, and watch the sun setting over emerald lagoons.  That’s for me!  A Galactic Ruler Penguin!

PAIGE: OK Mr. Galactic Ruler Penguin… I don’t hear anyone else complaining.  Not Bartlett, not Crawford… NO ONE!  Just you Milton!  When it comes to grousing and griping you take the gold medal.  Milton: The Galactic Gripe King! 

MILTON: Oh you’re asking for it Paige!  Boom, zoom to the moon!  Remind me to get the pages of this SI laminated.  Oh, and one more thing: Sixty-four days Paige. SIXTY-FOUR DAYS… that’s it!  On day sixty-five and you’re not here… I’m stepping on the egg!

PAIGE: Stop dragging your feet Milton, it’s time for me to give you our egg. And don’t even think about stepping on our egg… unless you never want to see your sacred issue of Sports Illustrated ever again!

From the previous meeting.

Resolved: The date of the New Year will be moved from January 1 to a date in September.  It is recognized that choosing a date near either Solstice is unjust to the Hemisphere who has to labor either in intense heat, or frigid cold.  Further, the choice of a date near the Vernal Equinox is also out because it would interfere with St. Patrick’s Day. The date in September near the Autumnal Equinox, will be arbitrarily selected each year after we have consulted with the Oracle at Delphi.

The Finance Report.

It is agreed that someone has to pay for all this learning and wisdom that we are providing.  After all, Sages can’t be expected to hold a regular job.  To make up the shortfall, we will appoint a “Sage For The Day” from the ranks of our benefactors.  Our first honoree will be Ephraim the Drooler.

New Business. 

A resolution proposed by a group of Sage Reformers to reduce the length of the Yom Kippur Fast from 24 hours to 90 minutes was narrowly defeated.

A resolution by the Sage Reformers (hereinafter referred to as the Four Meshugahs, or the Gang of Four) to define that the fast only applies to kosher food, meaning that eating lobster quiche with a side of Jimmy Dean Sausage was permitted, was passed.  On a technicality, discussion on the nature of the fast was reopened.  The technicality: Chaim the Wise (aka He Who Only Owns One Garment, and everyone knows it!),  Avram the Prudent and Ruven the Goniff were all out of the room, arguing about a card playing debt, when the resolution came up for a vote.  When the Sages returned to the room, with Chaim the Wise sporting a black eye and a cut lip, they sided with the Sages in voting down the Gang of Four’s proposal.

Discussion on the length of High Holiday Services was opened. One of the Gang of Four observed that they were far too long.  Citing the great Hillel, who summed up the contents of the Torah, “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your buddy. That is the whole Torah; the rest is commentary; go study.” as an indication of the need to be brief.  Others viewed that the length of the Service should be increased; but maybe with a catered lunch break included, or a social hour.  The discussion became heated and threatened to descend into physical force when Chaim the Wise said that it was Avram the Prudent who had peeked at the discard pile in the card game. And besides Ruven the Goniff is known to keep extra cards under the table.  Ruven questioned how wise Chaim the Wise was, saying “You ain’t so smart!”, and poked Chaim in the chest.  Avram the Prudent made peace by suggesting that it was time to enjoy the prune danish with a glass of tea.

Further discussion on the length of the High Holiday Services was tabled to the next meeting; but the Gang of Four said they were cutting out after 45 minutes regardless, claiming they needed time to study for the medical boards.  And then Chaim the Wise gestured to Ruven the Goniff, “oh yeah? I’m smarter than you!  You big Lug!!” {editor’s note: A lug, big or otherwise, is a rarity among the Sages, which is why Ruven has been so admired by the likes of Meyer Lansky, Bernie Madoff and Joe Lieberman.}

Postponement.

It was agreed that since the move of the New Year from January 1 to September, it will have to be reviewed whether it is permissible to pitch in the World Series on Yom Kippur, or whether the opposing team should simply be compelled to forfeit the game.

Adjournment.

With no further bloodshed or harsh words, although Ruven threw two shekels at Chaim and said, “here! give everyone a break and go buy yourself another garment!”, the Council of Sages concluded this session.

Next meeting.

In two weeks at the home of Ephraim the Jeweler, referred to earlier in error as “Drooler”, although it was pointed out by Avram that Ephraim does indeed drool.

To those who it is appropriate: L’Shana Tovah.  To those who it is not appropriate… whatever.