The computer is rewarded with less uncertainty as the trials approach perfection. Surely, for deterministic calculating machines, there is no finer goal.
In all honesty, that's unnecessary. There are more than enough legitimately rare animals now that need protection. Not that it doesn't happen—the story Crowdsourcing and Scientific Truth from last month led to this gem, regarding the extinct ivory-billed woodpecker:
The weirdest part of the ivory-bill's resurrection is that if you look back through the past four decades, it turns out the bird has come back to life many times before. The ivory-bill seems to rise like a phoenix at times of environmental anxiety. And each time the sighting has been debunked, and then afterward some great section of wilderness has been declared protected and everyone feels better for a while.
After a 1966 disputed sighting in Texas, 84,550 acres became the Big Thicket National Preserve. When the ivory-bill was sighted/not sighted in a South Carolina swamp in 1971, the outcome was the creation of Congaree National Park. Alex Sanders, who as a member of South Carolina's House of Representatives fought to preserve the land, told me that when people ask him where the ivory-bill is, he says, "I don’t know where he is now, but I know where he was when we needed him."
At least for box turtles (the most frequently-discussed species) it looks like the "young" constraint comes from wear-and tear. I think you might be able to tell the age of an older one if you were looking at a cross section—but if there's one thing this story has taught me, it's that my expectations and assumptions regarding reptiles are completely unreliable, so don't quote me on that.
See the timestamp on my comment? Yeah, I shouldn't be posting at 4 AM. You're right; the number I was taught was one in two thousand. I have no idea why I wrote that.
I just sorta had my butt handed to me on that question, so I may not be the best person to consult about the basics of taxonomy. I do however believe there ought to be a disclaimer somewhere at the start of every genetics textbook that goes something to the tune of "don't ask about plants and ploidy, you'll never be satisfied with the answer."
But to make a long story short, I would actually map the different ploidies of dandelions to something like sexes. Organisms adopt some heinously bizarre techniques for managing population size when they're wildly successful, and it sounds to me like this is a reproductive strategy that's working quite handsomely for them. It kinda reminds me of C. elegans, which is a 95% self-fertilizing hermaphrodite, 5% male species; the males exist to jumble things up now and then. (And there are certainly plenty of species with infertile members, like social insects!)
Interestingly, there are ample parallels to be drawn in computing with various techniques for jiggling neural networks to get them out of local minima.
In the species question. I'm pretty sure that the content of the chromosomes is considered a factor as well. Wikipedia has an article on the species problem (if you aren't holding the answer behind your back, since you clearly know your Mendelian genetics!) which I am probably not yet qualified to comment on the reliability of. The hard truth, though, is that the word is archaic fluff, and that organisms fall in and out of style (mostly out) with each other all the time. A slightly better concept is this thing, but that has more to do with population flow than anything rightly concrete.
I was waiting for that to come along. Did I ever mention how lousy my ecology professor was? Taxonomy always seemed like a really fun area, but I never got around to a population genetics course. Time to crack open one of the fifty-ish books I have that covers it, I guess.
Shh! You're ruining my gig! These people think I know something!
At least one news site made the same mistake. I inferred it from there, after giving up my hunt for an answer to that exact question and assuming they knew something. Clearly trusting journalists was a mistake.
Yes, but you don't suddenly drop dead from being old. There's generally a specific medical cause.
...also, another point of pedantry: it was suspected he was at least a hundred. It was theorized that may have been much older, perhaps closer to 200 than 100. Turtles are so damn rugged and scaly that it's impossible to really tell just by observation. Dying at the age of one hundred would actually have been a little premature for a Galapagos tortoise, equivalent to probably 60 or 65ish for a human, I think.
The official classification is that they were subspecies, actually. However, especially in modernity, the term "species" is reserved for groups that definitely can't be interbred with viable offspring (for whatever reason), so we might as well apply that here, although it's all still hazy.
I believe they were separated by about ten million years; to put that in perspective, humans and chimps split 4–8 million years ago. Since one of the major limitations in cross-reproduction between two isolated species comes directly from the molecular clock of nucleotide change (specifically: different patterns of DNA hairpinning cause the paired chromosomes to be unable to recognize each other during gamete formation), even if they had managed to reproduce, it's almost certain the offspring would've been infertile.
It looks like DNA from Lonesome George (along with many other specimens from the archipelago) were collected a few years ago and used in some analyses, suggesting they were at least partially sequenced. That article mentions sequencing of the full genome of Galapagos tortoises in general, but not necessarily George in particular. I would expect that it would be under way now if it wasn't already, however, especially with the recent affordability of sequencing.
Let's get the pedantic train started early: George was the last of his subspecies (Canoe gets this right... in one of two mentions.) A lot of other sources have been saying species incorrectly. Here's the corresponding Wikipedia page. There are still giant tortoises on Galapagos, just not any of the ones native to the island of La Pinta.
Sure, they had impact, but the fears were unfounded. All of the videotex networks except France's fell apart, Japan never gained the market dominance they sought in the US, and the fifth-generation computer was as unpopular as its American and European contemporaries.
Slashdot Mirror
The computer is rewarded with less uncertainty as the trials approach perfection. Surely, for deterministic calculating machines, there is no finer goal.
It's actually pretty well defined; the problem you describe only exists in the United States. Sorry.
Instead it will accomplish a far more noble goal: it will kill off OEMs.
In all honesty, that's unnecessary. There are more than enough legitimately rare animals now that need protection. Not that it doesn't happen—the story Crowdsourcing and Scientific Truth from last month led to this gem, regarding the extinct ivory-billed woodpecker:
The weirdest part of the ivory-bill's resurrection is that if you look back through the past four decades, it turns out the bird has come back to life many times before. The ivory-bill seems to rise like a phoenix at times of environmental anxiety. And each time the sighting has been debunked, and then afterward some great section of wilderness has been declared protected and everyone feels better for a while.
After a 1966 disputed sighting in Texas, 84,550 acres became the Big Thicket National Preserve. When the ivory-bill was sighted/not sighted in a South Carolina swamp in 1971, the outcome was the creation of Congaree National Park. Alex Sanders, who as a member of South Carolina's House of Representatives fought to preserve the land, told me that when people ask him where the ivory-bill is, he says, "I don’t know where he is now, but I know where he was when we needed him."
At least for box turtles (the most frequently-discussed species) it looks like the "young" constraint comes from wear-and tear. I think you might be able to tell the age of an older one if you were looking at a cross section—but if there's one thing this story has taught me, it's that my expectations and assumptions regarding reptiles are completely unreliable, so don't quote me on that.
See the timestamp on my comment? Yeah, I shouldn't be posting at 4 AM. You're right; the number I was taught was one in two thousand. I have no idea why I wrote that.
That would probably offend the Pratchett fans!
The solution to that is clearly a mesh network of mothers' basements, not any of the above.
That's where it gets messy...
I just sorta had my butt handed to me on that question, so I may not be the best person to consult about the basics of taxonomy. I do however believe there ought to be a disclaimer somewhere at the start of every genetics textbook that goes something to the tune of "don't ask about plants and ploidy, you'll never be satisfied with the answer."
But to make a long story short, I would actually map the different ploidies of dandelions to something like sexes. Organisms adopt some heinously bizarre techniques for managing population size when they're wildly successful, and it sounds to me like this is a reproductive strategy that's working quite handsomely for them. It kinda reminds me of C. elegans, which is a 95% self-fertilizing hermaphrodite, 5% male species; the males exist to jumble things up now and then. (And there are certainly plenty of species with infertile members, like social insects!)
Interestingly, there are ample parallels to be drawn in computing with various techniques for jiggling neural networks to get them out of local minima.
In the species question. I'm pretty sure that the content of the chromosomes is considered a factor as well. Wikipedia has an article on the species problem (if you aren't holding the answer behind your back, since you clearly know your Mendelian genetics!) which I am probably not yet qualified to comment on the reliability of. The hard truth, though, is that the word is archaic fluff, and that organisms fall in and out of style (mostly out) with each other all the time. A slightly better concept is this thing, but that has more to do with population flow than anything rightly concrete.
I was waiting for that to come along. Did I ever mention how lousy my ecology professor was? Taxonomy always seemed like a really fun area, but I never got around to a population genetics course. Time to crack open one of the fifty-ish books I have that covers it, I guess.
Shh! You're ruining my gig! These people think I know something!
At least one news site made the same mistake. I inferred it from there, after giving up my hunt for an answer to that exact question and assuming they knew something. Clearly trusting journalists was a mistake.
I'm pretty sure that only works on elephants and investment bankers.
Your signature does more to compromise your neutrality than your post's text. I'm impressed!
Informative karma is the cheapest karma. O, were it only that these words might be found insightful or interesting! (But I'll settle for funny.)
I think you may have misunderstood my delivery; that's what I meant.
That theory is out; turtles don't lay eggs unless mating has occurred, and three clutches were found.
Yes, but you don't suddenly drop dead from being old. There's generally a specific medical cause.
...also, another point of pedantry: it was suspected he was at least a hundred. It was theorized that may have been much older, perhaps closer to 200 than 100. Turtles are so damn rugged and scaly that it's impossible to really tell just by observation. Dying at the age of one hundred would actually have been a little premature for a Galapagos tortoise, equivalent to probably 60 or 65ish for a human, I think.
The official classification is that they were subspecies, actually. However, especially in modernity, the term "species" is reserved for groups that definitely can't be interbred with viable offspring (for whatever reason), so we might as well apply that here, although it's all still hazy.
I believe they were separated by about ten million years; to put that in perspective, humans and chimps split 4–8 million years ago. Since one of the major limitations in cross-reproduction between two isolated species comes directly from the molecular clock of nucleotide change (specifically: different patterns of DNA hairpinning cause the paired chromosomes to be unable to recognize each other during gamete formation), even if they had managed to reproduce, it's almost certain the offspring would've been infertile.
It looks like DNA from Lonesome George (along with many other specimens from the archipelago) were collected a few years ago and used in some analyses, suggesting they were at least partially sequenced. That article mentions sequencing of the full genome of Galapagos tortoises in general, but not necessarily George in particular. I would expect that it would be under way now if it wasn't already, however, especially with the recent affordability of sequencing.
He did; three times with two females from a different island a few years ago. The eggs were infertile.
Let's get the pedantic train started early: George was the last of his subspecies (Canoe gets this right... in one of two mentions.) A lot of other sources have been saying species incorrectly. Here's the corresponding Wikipedia page. There are still giant tortoises on Galapagos, just not any of the ones native to the island of La Pinta.
Want a PhD? :)
I think the surest way to get something done is to swear it'll happen in 5 years and not be disappointed when it takes 15.
Sure, they had impact, but the fears were unfounded. All of the videotex networks except France's fell apart, Japan never gained the market dominance they sought in the US, and the fifth-generation computer was as unpopular as its American and European contemporaries.
Some of us still call it OpenVMS/2 Warp, thank you very much.