
The order of not things
Cambridge â of Cambridgeshire, not Massachusetts, before anyone jumps in â is famed as the academic home of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell and G. E. Moore, three philosophers who did much to elucidate, not to say obfuscate, language, logic and meaning. It is very much in their spirit, we assume, that Cambridge City Council recently advertised an extra rubbish bin collection following staff absences, stating âbins will be collected in the order in which they were previously not collectedâ.
âIs it quantum mechanics then that enables us to determine the order in which things donât happen?â asks Alison Litherland, we imagine hovering indecisively over her bins. Quite possibly. Our starting point must be the following question: if a bin isnât collected, but no one sees it not collected, has it been not collected at all?
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In purely practical terms, the only way of finding out is by looking in the bin, making this a particularly pure instantiation of Erwin Schrödingerâs cat paradox. Maybe Schrödingerâs trash didnât have quite the same ring to it. As far as your problem goes, Alison, we fear that repeated measurement of identical bins may allow you to build up a picture of when it wasnât collected, but this will only have statistical validity.
Poet didnât know it
Feedback is delighted to find, while searching for something else, that the physicist James Clerk Maxwell (died 1879) is listed as an author on the 51¶ŻÂț website (born circa 1996).
Further investigation reveals a series of poems published by Maxwell in these pages in 2011. We are somewhat lacking context, but his Valentine By a Telegraph Clerk (Male) to a Telegraph Clerk (Female) bears rereading, with its culminating verse: âThrough many a volt the weber flew,/And clicked this answer back to me;/I am thy farad staunch and true,/Charged to a volt with love for thee.â
Sweet, if of its time. Following our musings on how old the internet thinks you can be (26 February), at 180, we may have found our oldest contributor.
Standard elephants
Metrologists at the International Bureau of Weights and Measures in Paris may still be basking in the replacement, in 2019, of the international prototype kilogram â a platinum-iridium hulk that would feel exactly like 1 kilogram if dropped on your foot â by a fancy-schmantzy definition in terms of various physical constants. But as regular Feedback readers know, they are missing the⊠in the room. The elephant is well-established as the actual international standard unit of mass.
Proof positive, a report from The Hamilton Spectator in Ontario, Canada, sent in by Doug Thomson. A clean-up after storms there in January required the removal of , frozen elephants worthâ. We can only imagine the difficulties of dealing with these homesick and discomfited beasts. The icing on the elephants clearly adds something to their weight, as we conventionally take an adult male African bush elephant to weigh about 6 tonnes.
Even as we hear calls for a standard prototype elephant kept under glass somewhere growing louder, news reaches us of a breakaway movement in New South Wales, Australia. Many of you highlight news of the seizure of 9.7 hectaresâ worth of illicitly grown tobacco at Koraleigh .
How many bulldozers of tobacco fit into Sydney Harbour, we wonder. Meanwhile, Brian Horton consults the delightful website . Suffice to say, the amount of tobacco seized at Koraleigh was some 42 standard elephants.
His mummyâs voice
The interwebs have delighted themselves recently at a story first reported by 51¶ŻÂț in 2020, that researchers have recreated the voice of an Egyptian mummy held at Leeds City Museum, UK.
The experience is slightly hard to reproduce on the printed page, but oddly, in some of the clips now circulating, , whereas two years ago it was a far more refined âEEEEERGHâ. Mummies could presumably have made more than one sound, says a colleague â not unreasonably, with the qualification âwhen aliveâ. âThis is the replication crisis writ large,â says another, damningly.
Vive la résistance!
Much as we try to stop buttered toast falling on our pages, right side up or no, still it rains down. But we are in a philosophical frame of mind, so we are grateful to J. Feralco for the reminder of a corollary to Murphyâs Law, first established by humorist Paul Jennings in the 1940s: âThe chance of the bread falling with the buttered side down is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet.â
This came as part of his Report on Resistentialism, a school of philosophy encapsulated by the phrase âLes choses sont contre nousâ â âthings are against usâ â established on Parisâs Left Bank by âbespectacled, betrousered, two-eyedâ thinker Pierre-Marie Ventre. Resistentialism holds that there are limits to the sway humans can hold in a world of largely hostile, uncooperative things. It is worth .
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