...keepin it real Thursdays

In keeping with this week's dorkiness-theme, I thought I'd relay this charming little snippet of intrigue that is unfortunately born of some hardcore real-ness.


Remember back in 2003 when space shuttle Columbia disintegrated on reentry (depicted above in all its sparkling horror)? Well, when it happened, lots of pieces of shuttle and crew rained down on Earth's surface as opposed to burning up as most earthly matter would. However, among the items recovered from Columbia's wreckage was, amazingly, the flight diary of an Israeli Astronaut named Ilan Ramon.


I haven't quite figured out how a bunch of paper managed to survive a 100km fall from just beyond the Kármán line at speeds approaching mach 7 (5,328.5 mph). Regardless, a group of astronauts and oragami masters in Japan have decided that based on this evidence, they will fold up about thirty miniature paper planes and release them from the a box on the exterior of the International Space Station, where they will begin a lazy descent back to Earth that is expected to take several months.

The planes will be printed with instructions in several languages requesting that the finder kindly notify Mr. Shinji Suzuki of the University of Tokyo's aerospace engineering program about when and where the plane was found.


I like this "expirement" because unlike the shuttle's violent and abrupt end while attempting to return home, the quiet and slow glide of the paper plane speaks of peace and moderation. Of course it is only possible due to its extreme lightness of construction, though it is a beautiful metaphor for the calmness and composure we should all strive for amid swirling social atmospheres that take us this way and that, unknowing and uncaring of our desired destination.

Speaking of strange things falling from the sky, in Greenpoint recently, two young perigrine falcons were rescued from gangs of pidgeons that were preemptively attacking their future predators. As I've heard, the adorable lil flappers are ok, as one is now at the Animal Medical Center and the other is apparently hiding in a bush near McGorlick park.


It most be something about New York City that fosters a gang mentality amongs the local animal populations. As I had noted a while back, dolphins were seen forming rival pods and established "turf" in our tidal estuaries.

Anywho, fly safe friends...

...the weekend madness (installment 3)

Well-known people have been dropping like flies this past weekend; aside from MJ and FF dying last week, Billy Mays, the boisterous infomercial king died on Sunday, much to the dismay of couch potatoes, budding entrepreneurs, and television execs everywhere.


Also newly dead is the former women's road racing world champion and frequent olympian, Zinauda Stagurskaya. She was hit by a truck riding on a highway in her native Belarus, training for the national road championships slated to take place later this week. I think it is simultaneously ironic and fitting that a road racing world champion dies on their bike, though the fact that it was due to the carelessnes of a motorist and not the result of an epic battle between professional cyclists pushin' it to the limit.

Of course nothing is going to change with traffic-law enforcement because bicycles are viewed as toys by the government, not as viable alternatives to gas-powered transportation. You could rest assured that if some fat-ass was horsin' around in a pool and accidentally drowned Michael Phelps, the ratio of fat-people-per-pool (FPPP) would decrease significantly from the perceived threat of a blubbery, bubbling demise.


Anyway, not all news from this weekend is so depressing; Gothamist has been tracking a pod of dolphins swimming around in long island sound! Apparently they're going to be here for a while hunting for herring in New York's tidal estuaries, and have already broken off into two gangs; the "City Island crew" and the "Long Island Sound crew" to take control of the herring game up north. Local fisherman have understandibly kept their distance from the pod, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of a maritime version of New Jack City.