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And this is where Hill tries to get all of her friends to engage in political action. Prove Putnam wrong, use the internet as a force of good and get involved (and the bonus is that it takes almost no time at all if you don't want it to). The short version is that Obama lifted Bush's irrational restrictions on federal funding for embryonic stem cells, and asked the NIH to draft new regulations. NIH did, and they are now up for comment. The comments will then be reviewed, and the final regulations for federally funded stem cell research will be announced. Although much better than the Bush restrictions, the draft regulations have a few serious problems that have my stem cell scientist friends very concerned. Also, apparently, the NIH has received a lot of comments from "STEM CELL RESEARCH IS MURDER!" type folks, and almost no comments from people supportive of stem cell research and more permissive regulations.
Thus, the goal:
The "STEM CELL RESEARCH IS MURDER!" folks should not be the only non-scientist comments filed in this rulemaking. The NIH needs concerned non-scientists in favor of stem cell research, otherwise it has to deal with one-sided comments that make it hard to justify a contrary conclusion in the rulemaking.
You can easily file comments online, it only takes a few seconds (deadline May 26, 11pm EST), just click on this link:
http://nihoerextra.nih.gov/stem_cells/add.htm
If you agree with the text below and don't have time to draft your own comments, you can copy and paste my comments.
If you just want to write "I support stem cell research" in your comment, that's fine-- it will still help.
If you want to research this issue yourself and write your own comments, I've provided some resources below.
Please feel free to pass this along to anyone/everyone.
**begin text to copy**
It has come to my attention that, following President Obama’s laudable lifting of the Bush “Presidential ESC Lines” funding restrictions, that the National Institute of Health has issued draft guidelines for future regulation of embryonic stem cell research funded with public monies. I applaud the NIH’s concern for both best scientific practice and the moral implications that arise with ESC. Recent articles in scientific journals, however, and their coverage in the news has led me to be concerned about a few of the draft provisions. I provide these comments as a non-scientist taxpayer interested in providing scientists with the guidelines and support necessary for the efficient and enlightened conduct of their research.
I urge the National Institute of Health to carefully consider the question of retroactivity raised by Patrick L. Taylor in his Cell Stem Cell article “Retroactive Ethics in Rapidly Developing Scientific Fields,” published June 5, 2009 (and released prior to that date on the internet). The potential benefits from performing research on existing stem cell lines should not be discarded on the basis of new ethics regulation requiring forms or documentation that for practical or other reasons simply could not be completed for these older lines.
I also urge the National Institute of Health to allow funding for embryos developed outside the reproductive context, specifically for research purposes. IVF embryos, while doubtless essential, are not representative of the US population. Restricting NIH funding to IVF embryos would make it difficult for researchers to gain access to a variety of disease-prone genotypes, especially those associated with minority and economically disadvantaged populations that are underrepresented in the IVF pool. NIH stem cell funding (and the medical advancements therefore achieved) should not be restricted to the genes of wealthy Americans.
Thank you for your time and attention.
**End text to copy**
For further information:
http://www.sciencefriday.com/program/archives/200905221
http://www.nature.com/news/2009/090419/full/458950a.html
http://stemcells.nih.gov/policy/2009draft.htm
I also have several articles I'd be happy to send you via email.Tags: politics
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well, how bad could the south of France ever possibly be? The weather was beautiful, the housing was the lap of luxury, the wine was cheaper than water, and the company was kind and interesting. It wasn't the trip I would have planned had I been doing the planning, and I appear to be more tied to my sense of student responsibility than I really would care to be considering my feelings about my program, but it was a beautiful trip. Pictures (unedited, as yet) are on my flickr site, but mine can't begin to compare with those of one of the other guests, so I will link his flickr site here. http://www.flickr.com/photos/transultimate/sets/72157602680143902/Tags: france, travel
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So, I wrote this and somehow it disappeared, and now has reappeared magically from LJ, so I guess I'll post it. Yesterday [um, I guess that should say "last Saturday"] ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) wolftone and I went to the Isles of Shoals, a set of islands about 6-7 miles off the coast of New Hampshire (which are actually half Maine and half New Hampshire). Much less technical than our Martha's paddle (see entry of a few weeks ago), this was nonetheless conceivably difficult, as it was a very long open water crossing with no bail-out points. I believe this is my longest paddle to date, with wolftone guessing that the total distance was 17 miles (via a combination of GPS and google maps). There is nothing off the coast of New Hampshire and extreme southern Maine other than the Isles. We were concerned about conditions before heading up, determining that high winds, especially ones that would leave us returning from the islands with a more difficult paddle than the trip out would result in the formation of a "Plan B" paddle somewhere along the coast. The kindness of a New Hampshire park ranger moved our put-in spot from Rye Harbor (where we would have had to pay $30 to launch 2 boats and park) to a boat launch at Odiorne Point, a few miles up the road. This made our trip a little longer than planned... but cheaper. While gearing up at Odiorne, there was a bit of somewhat troubling wind, but once free of the breakwater, it was a beautiful day. There had also been a few predictions of "isolated thunderstorms" that were to roll in after 6 pm, but they didn't worry me all that much. The good thing about paddling around here (from a safety standpoint, if not from a pristine nature standpoint) is that there are always lots of boaters around happy to help should the conditions turn seriously ugly.  We quickly covered enough distance that there was no thought of formulating a "Plan B", and the Isles pulled into view. The total outbound trip of about 8.5 miles took about 2.5 hours.  We were met at the dock of Star Island by a very friendly greeter dressed like a character from Dune (who, I'll admit made my day when she expressed disbelief that we had paddled all the way from the mainland), we passed a very pleasant few hours having a civilized picnic lunch in an oceanside gazebo and exploring the island. Just before 2 pm, we headed back to the mainland, with a following wind to help us along (although due to its direction, it was unable to provide much cooling relief). The wind shifted as the front came through (with about two or three miles left to paddle), and the ambient air temperature dropped a good 5-7 degrees. Mind you, it was still very warm, but I was no longer sweating, and had the pleasant feeling that my muscles were keeping my body warm, not the conditions. Had it cooled more, I would have needed to stop to add a layer of clothing.  Serendipitously, as I was thinking about this, the wind shifted and a light breeze (that nonetheless was stronger than we had been dealing with for the day) came from the shore. This breeze was HOT and served two wonderful purposes 1) made me no longer consider additional layers and 2) made me profoundly thankful that I had spent the day on the water (where I put on a long sleeve shirt at lunch), and not on land. My body felt good, my mind felt good, and the mournful rhythmic low moaning of a navigational aid combined with the lapping water (and an amazing absence of motorboats) lulled me into a paddling zen that made me feel like the last 15 miles had been nothing, and ready for (if not willing to organize and propose) another 15. Wolftone, I suspect, had a rather later Friday night than I, and despite being in much better physical shape than I, was not a happy camper so the final approach to the car was slow... which was not aided by the fact that the weather chose that time to send us a microburst thunderstorm with strong, gusty winds, and ominous looking lightening in the distance. What should have been a dawdle (certainly earned after such a long trip) needed to be a strong finish in case the weather decided to turn worse.  We made it to the car only to find that the boat ramp did not end at the low tide line, but about 50 feet below the low-tide line, with the space between a lovely mudflat. Wetsuit booties are my friend, but wolfetone's teva was not quite so lucky, and has been swallowed by the mud and the sea. Mud isn't my favorite thing to slog around in, but after a day on the ocean, cleanliness is hardly my highest priority, so such endings are neither here nor there for me (of course, I didn't lose a shoe). All in all, yesterday will go down as one of my more enjoyable paddles so far. It wasn't overly technical, like Martha, which leaves you feeling beat upon by the ocean and feeling like you've just gotten away with something that perhaps human beings weren't meant to do... cheated, somehow, and next time you won't be so lucky. No, this was just a beautiful, long day, with a lovely destination and overall very favorable conditions (even the squall at the end was nothing to worry about). I was tired but not beaten upon. There was never a time I wasn't having fun. There was never a time that I just wanted it over. At the end of many other beautiful condition paddles I've done, I end thinking, "well, that was fun... not sure it was an accomplishment of any type, but it was a great day." At the end of Martha, I was feeling accomplished but that maybe it hadn't been entirely fun. Yesterday left me at the end of the day feeling that I accomplished something during a fun day on the water. I'm really going to miss kayaking season when it ends. Tags: kayak, why life doesn't suck
Current Location: the isles of shoals, NH/ME
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On Saturday wolftone and I went for a paddle… to Martha’s Vineyard from Falmouth. High tide was at about 9:00 am, placing low tide at about 3:00 pm. We put in at about 10:15, conditions thoroughly overcast, foggy, and with a steady 15 knot (ish) wind out of the southwest. We decided to head into the wind (and the waves it created) for a while, and then tack and come down with the wind at our backs for a while—roughly forming an equilateral triangle with the most direct route from point A to point B being the side not traveled. Sounded like a good idea at the time, so off we go.  Into the wind isn’t ideal, but it can be fun, as the bow of the boat gets buried in waves and the up-down roll and challenge of staying facing the right direction (if the wind is less strong than you are) is invigorating. So we head up toward Wood’s Hole with this plan in mind. After wolftone decides we’ve gone far enough, we tack and head (mostly) downwind toward our “Point B” land feature, which we knew ahead of time was called “West Chop.” The waves coming up our sterns are enough to give us a little surfing kick, but they are thoroughly manageable, and we start making good time—the bluff of West Chop appears in front of us, and we start feeling like we’re actually approaching land. Wolftone says to me “it’s nice to feel like we’re making progress.” It’s about 12:15, and within 15 minutes, all progress has stopped.  photo taken before it got rough-- no sparing hands for a camera once over the ledge.
As we approached West Chop, out of sight below us we crossed over a ledge on the sea floor, still more than a half mile from shore. Instead of being over 50 feet deep, the water was a mere 12-15 feet below us. It was mid-tide, and the water was running away from Martha’s Vineyard as fast as it could, at an angle approximately perpendicular to the waves we had been surfing toward the island. At that same time, those waves we had been surfing met the newly shallow sea floor, and started breaking. The current wanted our boats turned one direction, the wind wanted our boats turned a different direction, and we wanted our boats turned a third direction. This, we decided, was what the “Chop” part of the “West Chop” name was about. For the non-boaters out there: Rules of the ocean 101: as waves come up on you, they hit the stern or bow of a boat and try to swing it broadside to the wave—whether the boat swings or not is related to many things, but in general can be reduced to the question of “is the propulsion of the boat is stronger than the wave, or the wave is stronger than the propulsion of the boat?” A boat that wants to stay upright does not want to be broadside to the waves. Broadside to the waves, it has much less stability. The water comes upon the length of the boat and starts to pick it up—and it picks up only one side at a time. The boat is now on the wave at an angle, and if the majority of the boat’s weight is above the level of the water (for example, if it doesn’t have a weighted keel) the sea is going to roll that boat. These rules are true for pretty much any boat, but especially true for little one-man kayaks—seriously top-heavy boats, with a long broadside and virtually no keel. Current, unlike waves, moves boats so that they are as streamlined as possible. If you’ve seen photos of marinas, you’ll notice that often all the boat point the same direction…. The moving water has swung them around so that the bow (the smallest point) is pointing into the direction the water is coming from. The stronger the current, the harder it is to keep your boat pointed in the direction you want it. A strong tide broadside to a kayak fairly easily flips it unless the kayaker is always leaning the edge of the boat away from the direction of the current, even a 1 second failure to lean the boat can flip it in a very strong current. Tidal currents tend to be strongest in the middle of the cycle (i.e. at the time halfway between high tide and low tide). Although wolftone and I have the same model boat, he’s a 6+ foot male, and I’m… not. As a result, our boats handle very differently. In these conditions, we quickly separated a little too far for comfort (or verbal communication), and stock needed to be taken of our situation separately. My primary thought was “Shit, this isn’t really very good.” Followed by “it must be the shelf that’s causing this sudden liquid insanity, I want off the shelf.” Continuing on the heading we were would keep us on the shelf the longest, heading toward shore would mean fighting the strength of the outgoing current and was a good distance away—the closest way out of the situation was to head out to sea, beyond the shelf, only 200-300 yards away. Unable to talk to wolftone (and heading toward him would have meant heading further into the danger zone), but figuring that he was keeping an eye on me as I was on him, and that he would figure out my plan, I turned in that direction and started paddling. Wolftone looked around to see what I was doing and where I was going, and promptly flipped over. A valiant attempt at two rolls later (while my heart was in my throat as I watched them miss, worried he would subsequently be unable to do a wet exit), he thankfully popped up next to his overturned boat. This is good. Kayaker in the water is much better than kayaker in upside down boat. So I smile, say “shit” into the wind, and turn back into the chop for a rescue. When I reach wolftone he’s in remarkably good spirits, and we think about how to best get him back into his boat. There is absolutely no chance of emptying his boat in the traditional rescue manner, as I would have been flipped easily by the waves while we did the maneuvering necessary. Wolftone’s boat was still floating (by virtue of the air in the watertight bow and stern hatches), but the entire cockpit was filled with water, so the boat was swamped, only 3 or 4 inches above the surface of the water. We got him back into the boat, and tried to pump the water out of the cockpit, but for every inch we took out a wave brought two into the cockpit... so this was clearly a losing battle. Wolftone would have to paddle the swamped boat to a calmer place where a traditional rescue could be performed and his boat could be emptied. This part I don’t envy, and in retrospect I could have helped more. Paddling a swamped boat is very difficult even in calm conditions, and these were not calm. I should have tethered myself and my boat to wolftone’s boat so as to keep him upright. We would have gone slower, but the subsequent two rescues that were required when the partially submerged boat was flipped (and my need to rush back over to his boat for another rescue) would have been avoided. The second of these rescues happened in a slightly less rough area, and we decided to risk a traditional rescue to empty his boat of water. Wolftone successfully back into a (mostly) dry cockpit, we made it out of the chop, and into deeper water. Exhausted now, and still fighting the current and wind, but less intense current and wind, we rounded the point of West Chop and fully appreciated the appropriate naming of Vineyard Haven. By 2:15, we were pulled up on the beach, and by 2:30 had found our lodging for the evening, laboriously carried our kayaks above the tide line, and decided not to move for a while. Casualties of Saturday’s paddle: wolftone’s hat, my sunglasses, and a VHF radio that was both clipped and tied onto my lifejacket (how that came free is anyone’s guess). Wolftone’s new boat got its inaugural scratch from being unceremoniously hauled over my deck, flipped, and shoved back into the ocean; it also earned its name. Saturday evening consisted of a (very) slow walk to Vineyard Haven (in addition to the day’s activities, my thighs still ached from Thursday’s road race), a bus ride to a non-dry town (Oak Bluffs), and wolftone’s long awaited (and well deserved) margarita(s). Food was consumed. The obligatory look into the Black Dog was performed. I fell asleep on the porch swing while our host was showing his other guests the beach. I went to bed at 9:30, and slept fairly well until 5:30 the next morning, when the resident dog (Ben), barked at the newspaper delivery. Another hour or so of restless sleep, and tea, breakfast, and attempting to figure out when the United States had a pro-genocide movement later, we were back in the kayaks and headed out to sea. Sunday morning was phenomenally beautiful on the water. The sun was shining, it was warm but not hot, very little wind, little boat traffic, and the current at your back. A thoroughly glorious and uneventful trip back to Falmouth, a proper landing whereby we trespassed on private land for 1 minute before carrying our boats onto the public beach 2 feet away (it is forbidden to launch or land from the public beach, but not to have a boat on it). I discovered that, while I’m okay lifting a 55 pound dry, empty kayak, a kayak full of waterlogged gear and a good number of gallons of water, when it has already been picked up by a 6’+ man and placed on his shoulder (thus causing all the water inside the boat to flow into the stern that I’m trying to lift off the beach) is beyond the limits of my strength. The car was not towed. There was much rejoicing.  All in all, a thoroughly successful trip. A good test of technical skills that rarely get tested on the normal day trips I paddle, a real workout, and a learning experience about doing one’s research on water conditions before heading into the unknown. With flares in our PFDs and fishermen laughing at us from the safety of the other side of the sea floor shelf, there was never really a serious threat to our safety. Tags: kayak
Current Location: West Chop
Current Mood: accomplished
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wet
sick