Katie has been discussing how to write covering letters . I was always fascinated by how my previous boss managed to make our work sound of fundamental importance to . . . well, just about everyone, really.

A well-written covering letter at least shows respect for the Editor who is handling your opus, and might actually be useful in persuading them to send the manuscript out to review instead of laughing hollowly and consigning it to the ‘ach, I can’t be arsed’ pile. But — just like writing papers and giving seminars — cover-letter writing is one of those things that we are, as far as I can tell, supposed to acquire by osmosis.

But I wondered if you have hints or advice you’d like to share. If so, you should leave a comment.

So. Please. Leave a comment .

A couple of days ago I was talking with a friend about the graphic novel (no, not the ‘comic book’) Watchmen . In this story there is a character who at one stage is discorporated, yet somehow manages to reincarnate himself as a being closer to the angels than the apes.

This Dr Manhattan is a nuclear physicist — and a pawn of the US government. He has the ability to create duplicates of himself which can function independently of each other. The full implications of this become apparent when after an intimate moment with his girlfriend he goes back to the lab … and recombines with ‘himself’ who has been doing rather different sorts of experiments the whole time.

The thought sends a tingle down my spine. In the absence of an ‘intrinsic field’ deus ex machina, this is the best argument I’ve ever seen for human cloning (previous arguments on NN about what to do with excess bioinformaticians notwithstanding). I want a clone of myself. And I want the ability to imprint and transfer memories and experience.

Imagine.

I think I need three of me. One to work in the lab, one to write and do analysis and one to be a father/husband/social butterfly. At around 3 in the morning we’d all plug into the Neural Equalizer™ and synchronize our minds. The benefits – at an individual level – would be immeasurable. At a societal level imagine the progress we’d make. People would become essentially immortal, untiring — complete with ‘off-site’ backups.

All I have to do now is persuade the Wellcome to fund my research. I will of course be asking for volunteers to be experimental subjects, and as I can already see you rushing forward, I’d like you all to form an orderly queue behind Maxine.

Thank you.

There is an incredibly smart lecturer in our department (there are, indeed, several such; I’m concentrating on but one of them) who nonetheless managed to say in a lab-meeting

”... these four-helix bundles are designed to bind substrate …”

I have no reason to believe that the chap is a closet IDer, but please, won’t someone think of the children?

(I started replying to Rus Bowden’s comment , but decided I shouldn’t waste the opportunity to creat a new weblog post. I think we scientists can gain an insight into the gulf, at least):

Fun with ideas is (views the end of the sentence and chokes back the panic) fun.

However, in a place like this there’s no point in writing something unless you try to make yourself understood by the other person. When people are calling you a troll, or thinking “What the blazes are you trying to say, man?”, there’s a problem.

It’s called ‘communication’. Poetry is not communication in this sense — it does not invite dialogue. Not here on NN (and I disagree slightly with the sentiment that the audience should only be scientists).

But the rest of Rus’s comment deserves a civil response.

Scientists tend not to talk about ‘truth’. They prefer to think of things as ‘correct’, or ‘consistent with the evidence’. Evolutionary theory is consistent with the evidence, and is consistent with the philosophy of a rational, understandable Universe. It’s pretty difficult, these days, to think of an alternative to evolution that is scientific.

At least out-and-out Creationists don’t claim to be doing science, or have scientific backing for their (appalling) theology. I’ll grudgingly respect that position, as long as they don’t try to defend it scientifically.

Scientists do not study “the world poets have bequeathed to us”. Poetry is not amenable to measurement, to testing of hypotheses. Do we ask ee cummings to test his thankfulness? Since when did trees have leaping green spirits that could be observed with a microscope, or a LHC?

The thing, the real thing about science as a system is that it works. It makes predictions that can be tested, and gives us technology that does what we designed it to. The earth goes around the sun in a predictable fashion. All this talk of ‘dogma’ in context of something you don’t like probably reflects a failing of the public school system to get across the point that science is not about facts, but rather process. Talking about an “Age of Evolution” probably reflects a further failure — one of scientists to effectively engage poets (and sometimes the two come together in the one person).

I am not one of those who believes that science is the be-all and end-all. It is no substitute, and can not inform the things, the messy, sticky things like love and justice that make us human.

Science tells us how things work. Poetry (literature, faith) can tell us who we are.

“and your chicks for free”.

Big money. Big science . A good example of why we need to explain ourselves:

“These scientists could trim $10 million if they would just cut out some of the purple and blue spheres,” said Rep. Roscoe Bartlett (R-MD), explaining that he understood the need for an abundance of reds and greens. “With all of those molecules and atoms going in every direction, the whole thing looks a bit unorganized, especially for science.”

This guy’s ignorance is shocking:

“Fifty billion dollars to buy atoms is too much,” Rep. Tom Feeney (R-FL) said. “Frankly, I don’t understand why they don’t just gather up all the leftover atoms in their test tubes and Bunsen burners. I think the scientists should have to use those up before getting new ones.”

(HT: Ian )

I think I’m going to make myself unpopular.

Over at Popsci, Henry advocates the murder of a reasonable percentage of the population. Elsewhere on the web this week I have read how over a million Londoners are quite obviously stupid for voting in Boris Johnson as Mayor of London. And just about everywhere we see nasturtians cast at the mental prowess of millions of people who — often through no fault of their own — fail to accept evolutionary theory as a mechanistic explanation for the immense beauty and variety of life around us.

This is a disturbing trend.

The biggest failure of (shudder) the blogosphere is the people behind it.

If you think Boris Johnson is bad for London or Gordon (is a moron) Brown is the worse thing since France, then calling people who voted for them stupid, or taxi-drivers, or Daily Mail readers, or pinko lefty commies is not actually going to win you many converts.

Equally, I seriously doubt for example that sciencey weblogs, especially those over at a certain place , are doing the perception of science and scientists any good at all when their major message seems to be “Creationists are stupid, and I’m a scientist, so you’d better shut up and believe me.”

Leave name-calling to the tabloids. We scientists are people, and we get things wrong — gloriously so with any luck. We are not intrinsically better than anyone else — maybe blessed with more neurons or lucky enough to get the right teachers at the right time — but not better, not more worthy of not being put up against a wall and shot. Those with whom we disagree, even if they are demonstrably wrong in some areas, are as worthy of respect as we are.

The sooner those of us who have this opportunity to spout off in public realize the immense harm we do in so many ways, maybe the sooner we’ll be able to have meaningful arguments — ones that actually persuade rather than beat down (and I am by no means holding myself guiltess).

Please excuse the rant. Maybe it’s just the excellent homebrew , and I’m feeling more expansive and loving today. Except towards hairy-footed, croc-wearing, male Nature editors, of course. (I’m sorry if I seem to be picking on you, Henry. This attitude has been niggling me for a while and your comments have merely lowered the activation barrier. You’re curmudgeonly but I love you.)

In Australia, chartered accountants (Number 1 in Numbers) have their own magazine. In an amazing display of creativity it is called Charter .

I know this because there was a chap on the train this morning, reading a magazine that had a picture of a rather sad-looking bovine on the front. The cover story was titled A world of alternatives. For a moment I thought, maybe even hoped, that here was a story about mad cow disease, or antibiotics in milk, or growth hormones or GMOs or any of a thousand and three things that might have made me try to get a closer look.

Nope. It was about defensive assets. As it says on the website (that I actually bothered googling it should be clear evidence of my dedication, or insanity (or both)),

When sharemarkets are volatile, investors run to defensive assets. These days there are plenty of alternatives to the more traditional fixed interest and bonds.

Cows as defensive assets? Hang on, this is thrill a minute stuff. Forget Star Wars , how about a “Ring of Beef” protecting our freedom? Sub-orbital Bovine Defence platforms, maybe? ICBMs (Inter-continental ballistic moo-ers)?

But sadly, no. Scrolling down I read

There are very good reasons for investing in agriculture. As the global population grows and wealth increases, demand for food is also on the rise, especially for premium products such as red meat, dairy products and grains such as wheat.

Expect all chartered accountants of your acquaintance to be investing in defensive livestock. Bah. Can’t even get a decent steak out of it.

In a move that is bound to put Felix among the Columbidae the Journal of Cell Biology has come up with an interesting way of licensing its content.

Emma Hill and Mike Rossner take us on a journey that begins in 1787 and ends with the rather extraordinary statement (from a major scientific journal, at least) that they have now decided to return copyright to our authors, in return for the authors (that is, those of us who manage to publish in JCB) making the work available to the public.

In other words, article authors — scientists like you and me — grant JCB a licence to publish their work for six months.

There is a lot to think about in here, and I encourage you to read the entire statement . There is the thesis that six months is the monetary lifetime of a paper. There is the possibility that real data-mining will be made possible, a move that should make the likes of Peter Murray-Rust very happy (although the matter of format now becomes more pressing).

There is the intriguing thought that what appears to be a reclamation of the original premise of copyright might jump across to patents . Now that would be exciting, and good for science.

So it appears that nature.com has been nominated in the People’s Voice section of the annual Webby Awards , the ‘Oscars of the Internet’.

The vote closes today, but I don’t at all recommend that we all register and unduly influence proceedings.

Coffee gets cold.

There is a world of philosophy in that simple statement.