(Here is a column Mr. na Gopaleen, Jr. wrote in the distant past; that is, sometime in 2004.)
 
BBC News recently announced that on January 13 past some members of the scientific community were concerned that an object approximately 30 meters in width was hurtling toward the Northern Hemisphere of the globe we fondly still call home. According to their calculations, this object, presumably an asteroid, had a one-in-four chance of hitting its presumptive target, thus inflicting inestimable damage.
 
Confronted with this data, these astronomers considered the possibility of putting in a call to the president, who, they surmised, would issue a general alert.
 
Instead, they chose to call the Myles Junior Think Tank and ask our opinion concerning the options. I replied that, in the jargon of our trade, I would “get back to them.”
 
“We’ve got 36 hours,” said the near-frantic voice on the other end of the line
 
“Posthaste,” I replied confidently.
 
After hanging up, I calmly finished my mug of Guiness while considering the options. Then, posthaste, I strolled briskly into the lounge, where my most brilliant and trusted colleagues were sipping their afternoon ports and sherries while engaged in technical talk concerning a plan we at MJTT are devising to send highly-trained polar bears to the nether side of Mars to report on the presence or absence of other furry mammals in that tiny corner of the Milky Way.
 
Tersely but coolly, I reported the substance of my recent conversation with a certain highly-placed NASA official.
 
My colleagues continued to sip, though this time with furrowed brows.
 
“Perhaps,” replied one of my most brilliant lieutenants, “we should send a contingent of recent winners of the Nobel Peace Prize out there to meet their people. Negotiate with them. Appeal to their peace-loving instincts. Suggest that they aim the missile on which they are perched in another direction. Suggest Pluto as an alternative.”
 
More sipping. More deeply-furrowed eyebrows.
 
Then a few skeptical voices voiced their objections to this plan.
 
“Could we get the Peace Prizers to agree on this strategy on such short notice? Wouldn’t they have to negotiate among themselves on a command structure?”
 
“Is the asteroid manned? If so, with creatures capable of communication?”
 
More sipping.
 
“Suppose their instincts are not, like ours, peace-loving?”
 
All heads shook from side to side in token of a recognition of a forbidden heresy.
 
“I was only trying to think outside the box,” apologized the heretic.
 
Continued sipping.
 
“Is there life on Pluto?”
 
“Pluto is a rock,” came the reply.
 
“Either that or a bag of gas,” replied a voice from behind a cloud of cigar smoke.
 
“Look it up,” suggested another hidden voice.
 
The thinkers simultaneously depleted their sherry glasses. “Either way,” one of them pointed out, “it’s not thought of as capable of sustaining life as we know it.”
 
All heads nodded in agreement.
 
With nothing left to sip, several heads nodded off.
 
“What were those odds again?” inquired a head, still alert to the problem.
 
“One in four.”
 
“Ah.”
 
A long silence.
 
“Anyone for a game of badminton?”
 
“It’s a little cool outside.”
 
“Chess?”
 
While three or four chessboards were being peopled with kings, queens, bishops, knights, rooks, and pawns in preparation for figurative battle, I withdrew to my office and placed a call to my contact at NASA.
 
“Well?” asked the frantic voice. “What did you come up with?”
 
“Our calculations show,” I said soothingly, “that this object, which we are calling 2004 AS1, is in fact 500 meters wide, and that it will miss us by 12 million kilometers.”
 
“Thank God!” replied my Humanist friend.
 
And so, the crises averted, we continued to chat about this and that project in which NASA and MJTT are in serious collaboration.

​The MJTT wishes to confirm that it intends to comply with the request of our colleague and editor, Arthur Unknown, or Arthur, as he is known to his subordinates, to show a sense of urgency concerning a recent report on the disappearance of the hole in the Antarctic ozone layer—a report, he insists, that requires that the MJTT should rethink its earlier theory and recommendations concerning this vital matter.
 
The World Meteorological Organization (WMO), a specialized agency of the U.N. viewing itself as the “authoritative scientific voice on the state and behavior of the Earth’s atmosphere and climate” since 1951, reported that the seasonal ozone hole hovering over Antarctica has, in its words, “disappeared again after reaching record size earlier this year.”
 
The word that catches one’s attention in this brief missive is “again.” The assumption behind this nomenclature becomes clear as we read on: like our lunar companion, the moon, the ozone layer waxes and wanes in a highly predictable “seasonal manner,” and has done so since the mid-1980s.
 
“Scientists have said,” the WMO report goes on, that “the phenomenon [of waxing] results from destruction of the gas in the atmosphere by chemical compounds such as chlorofluorocarbons released in some aerosols and refrigerants. The hole refills [i.e., wanes] with surrounding ozone-rich air as temperatures rise.”
 
Oh?
 
“Scientists have said . . .” The use of the passive voice is often a telltale sign of a weak theory, propped up by a reference to an anonymous self-proclaimed authority. Such, we suspect, is the case here.
 
“[S]ince the mid-1980s . . .” One wonders whether this phenomenon of waxing and waning has been in effect only from the time when the devices for ozone measurement were first put in place, or whether this hide-and-seek act has been at work since the split-up of the original Pangaea into the present system of multiple land masses. If it has been around since before the appearance of homo sapiens, we humans are off the hook; no one should be urged to feel guilty for brandishing a can of air freshener after a trip to the bathroom.
 
Are these quibbles? Perhaps. Let it be understood that the MJTT does not question the measurements of the WMO. For example, we are in no position to question its statement that the ozone cavity peaked at a record-matching 28 million square kilometers in mid-September. And we certainly have no wish to dispute its contention that the cavity has recently disappeared.
 
No. What we wish to dispute is the WMO’s dogmatic assertions concerning the causes of both the appearance of the cavity (“chemical pollution”) and its disappearance (“The hole refills with surrounding ozone-rich air as temperatures rise.”).
 
These assertions rule out ab ovo (Latin: literally, from the egg; or better, from the outset) the original though controversial theories carefully set forth by the MJTT: (1) that the cause of the ozone depletion is the excess of penguin droppings over millennia; (2) that a simple though politically unpalatable solution to the problem would be to issue penguin hunting licenses to wealthy American sportsmen; and (3) that a more prudent solution would be to fill the ozone cavity via the technologically feasible feats of either shipping Hummers to Antarctica and pointing their ozone-creating tailpipes at the sky, and/or creating an ozonaduct that would ship the excess Southern California ozone to that beautiful but dreary continent.
 
Again, an agency of the U.N. has dropped the ball. Wedded to the orthodox theory concerning ozone depletion, the WMO has nearsightedly missed seeing what we at the MJTT have been monitoring since August 10.
 
We are now in the position to report that the American government, in conjunction with its British counterpart, has been secretly selling penguin hunting licenses to avid hunters, especially members of the NRA and the fox-hunters of Merry Olde England. Though we cannot yet quantify the effects of this politically-motivated move on the disappearance of the ozone cavity, we have no doubt that this astute but morally-questionable act has contributed significantly to the repair of the offending hole.
 
More, we have obtained access to classified information that General Motors has signed a lucrative contract with the Sierra Club for the sale of 10,000 Hummers for the environmentally-sound purpose outlined above. To date, over seven thousand of the machines have arrived at their various destinations on and surrounding Antarctica; the remaining are en route.
 
As for the ozonaduct, our moles at the DOD (Department of Defense) report that the U.S. Government has let unbid contracts for its construction. Some sources say that this has already begun at an isolated spot above Antarctica.
 
These pieces of intelligence, when dot has been connected to dot, leave no doubt that our original theory of the ozone problem and its solution competes on more-than-equal terms with that of the anonymous “scientists” to whom the WMO makes constant reference.

​I have received several e-mails from offended perusers of our column pointing out that our latest project, the blueprint for the neo-modern museum, takes no account of the tastes of the lower- and middle-brow habitués of museums. While our blueprint would no doubt be stunningly successful at the Art Institute of Chicago, one observer noted, it would fail miserably at that city’s Museum of Science and Industry, which boasts an attendance figure at least three or four times that of its downtown rival.
 
What is called for, it is clear, is a blueprint for just such a museum, in which easily two-thirds of the patrons are under the age of 16.
 
The solution to the problem of upgrading a museum of this sort to neo status is so simple that I blush to suggest it.
 
Bumper cars.
 
I am referring, of course, to the popular ride common to amusement parks—small vehicles equipped with thick rubber bumpers, the better to absorb the jolts they suffer and dish out as they scurry about the specially-designed arena in a spirit of glee. Not that the idea is to turn such family-oriented institutions into raucous amusement parks. No. The purpose of these miniature autos will be much the same as the purpose of the small railroad that MJTT envisions for the more upscale art museum: to save wear and tear on the feet and lower back and thus enhance the patron’s enjoyment. In fact, scattered among the customers will be traffic police riding unmarked vehicles, apprehending the occasional belligerent who drives around with evil intent.
 
Naturally, such a museum must be retrofitted to preserve the exhibits. These exhibits will be protected by railings that, when touched by the rubber bumpers, will blow a horn, thus attracting the attention of the traffic police, who will arrive with ticket pads at the ready.
 
There will of course be a rental fee, to be determined by the size and number of the renters. Fathers accompanied by two children will pay more, for example. Very large persons will be charged double. The rare slender person will receive a discount. All this is predicated, naturally, on the assumption that there will be a variety of choices of vehicles available to the connoisseur of such museums.
 
 

MJTT is always on the lookout for significant, socially responsible problems on which we can exercise our not-inconsiderable intellects.
 
I recently rode about an art museum disguised as an invalid. As others have discovered, the museum as we know it is an antiquated institution that is, among its other faults, hard on the feet.
 
MJTT has resolved to right that and other wrongs by envisioning a new form of art museum.
 
In the neo-modern museum, the pictures are all spaced the same distance apart, regardless of their size and aesthetic appeal. Ten feet distant from the wall runs a small battery-run railroad track. On the track is placed a continuous set of chairs facing the walls at intervals of, say, fifteen (15) feet. The chairs are, of course, for the use of the patrons. This train of chairs will not move continuously but will start and stop every fifteen feet, for exactly one minute. Thus the patrons will be allowed to see each exhibit once, after which they will be swiftly moved to the next, so that no exhibit goes unseen by any art lover. Opera glasses are provided to each patron for a small rental fee, this for the purpose of reading the fine print on the wall explaining each exhibit. Alternatively: the patron may purchase a brochure with the same information. A third option. The patron may rent an earphones/recorder combo providing an aural explanation of each exhibit; this will save him/her the trouble of reading. The combo may be rented in four colors (mauve, forest green, gunpowder gray, forest-fire orange) and listened to in any of the six standard voices: soprano, mezzo, alto, tenor, baritone, bass, all recited by a singer who has performed a leading role at the Met a minimum of three times.
 
The chairs are equipped with a small foldout table for the use of those who wish to have purchased foodstuffs from the museum cafeteria. Indeed, the cafeteria is to be the first stop on the line. Those who prefer not to eat while engaged in art-loving may rent a small TV set providing a full panoply of channels in order to dispose of the time others will be spending in the cafeteria. The set may also be retained, at a modest extra cost, for possible use within the museum proper. This for the convenience of those whose tastes are repelled, for example, by the Late Impressionists or who are incapable of understanding why a large spray-painted canvas or a men’s urinal, however tastefully wrought, would be considered as art.
 
What about the problem of restrooms? Though the time it takes for the train to traverse the entire museum will be 75 minutes at the most, the Miles Junior Think Tank takes into account the sudden urges to which a substantial majority of flesh is heir. Thus each chair comes equipped with a button that, when depressed, allows the chair and the patron it bears to leave the train and descend into a basement, which is occupied by a variety of restrooms, each festooned with the early works of an up-and-coming artist. There are stalls at the door of each restroom. For a small fee, the patron may convey his/her chair to that stall. And of course the chair is also equipped with a button that, when again depressed, returns the patron to his/her proper position on the train. (The technical details of this arrangement are being outsourced to a group of brilliant but unemployed mechanical engineers.)
 
At the end of the line stands the art bookstore. It is here that the museum realizes a healthy cash flow. Each of the abovementioned chairs is equipped with a small computer that allows the individual patron to select from a menu of books he/she wishes to purchase; the decisions re purchases are to be made during the general pilgrimage through the museum proper. The problem of overstocked books is obviated by the use of the POD (print-on-demand) technology, which allows the book to be printed immediately after the avid patron has placed an order.
 
The neo-modern museum is the answer to the prayers not only of the soft-footed, but of those who have learned to live and thrive in contemporary times while maintaining their taste for the exquisite arts.

​We at the Myles Junior Think Tank are never surprised by blackouts, whether they appear in New York, California, or the vast prairies of Canada. In fact, we are near completion of our study of the problem of the world’s inadequate power supplies.
                          
Here, in a word, is our long-range plan for solving this nettlesome difficulty: lunar power.
 
Solar power has, of course, received a great deal of attention by other seers and think tanks. It has had modest success, beginning with the powering of tiny student-made autos from coast to coast and, more recently, large solar farms sitting serenely in the southwestern desert.
 
Though in principle solar power is the definitive solution, far outstripping its major competitor, wind-generated electricity (nobody minds having the sun around, but most of us would take to the streets to protest the construction of a huge windmill in our own back yards), there is, sadly, only one sun, which shines on any given spot on earth less than fifty percent of the time. Given the nature of things, it cannot be expected to provide energy (1) all of the time and (2) in sufficient quantities for our growing energy needs.
 
In proposing lunar power as the solution, we are not so simple as to believe that the present moon, as constituted, has not carried its fair share of the energy burden. What we propose is a change in the moon itself.
 
Inspired by the example of the artist Christo (1935-  ), who has draped Australia’s coast, a Colorado valley, two California counties, several Florida islands, and Berlin’s Reichstag, in fashionable cloth, we are suggesting that the moon—or at least that part of it that faces the earth—be wrapped in tinfoil. Thus the rays of the sun that hit the moon would be reflected onto the earth, increasing our solar power by as much as ten percent.
 
A quick phone call to our colleagues at NASA confirmed our surmise that this project is feasible within two years, given adequate federal funding; moreover, the folks there agreed that this plan seems to be an efficient, environmentally responsible use of the discarded tinfoil that presently litters our garbage dumps. However, they pointed out that the moon goes through phases. In the jargon of the energy industry, it does not always run at full capacity.
 
After this conversation, we at MJTT repaired to the drawing boards and, working feverishly yet coolly, came up with what we dare say is a brilliant reformulation of our theory. Is there any reason or intergalactic law to prevent us from borrowing a moon or two from our more plentifully endowed fellow planet, Jupiter?
 
To our knowledge, there is none. In fact, there is a precedent for just such action. Astronomers now believe it likely that eons ago, Neptune snatched its renowned moon Triton from empty space.
 
Another quick phone call to the folks at NASA again bore fruit. They referred us to their co-workers at the JPL (Jet Propulsion Laboratory), who were near-ecstatic about this general schema and, after only a moment’s hesitation, promised to come up with the technology for sending a space vehicle to the far side of Io and pushing it out of its orbit around Jupiter and into an orbit around us, this in such a way that when our native unnamed moon is in its new phase, Io will be in full mode, and vice versa.
 
The rest would be easy. After plastering our borrowed moon with used tinfoil, we would, by our mutual rough calculation, have enough energy to last the entire earth for the remainder of this century. This would provide humankind with plenty of time to filch at least half of Jupiter’s remaining moons.
 
Scoffers will undoubtedly scorn this plan on the grounds that it would deprive us of night and thus of romance. But let it never be said that we at MJTT are behind the curve. Research assistants at the University of Alaska have verified our guess that the mating habits of moose, elk, and caribou are not affected by the long summer days in that part of the world. We have every reason to believe that this behavior will be replicated among humans.
 
If this surmise proves to be erroneous, the problem of unmanageable population growth will be resolved, and with it, that of insufficient energy.

Ozone: An Immodest Proposal

There is no such thing as pure science. It is always contaminated by politics, and thus, in the last analysis, by humans.
 
This is the conclusion we at MJTT were forced to arrive at soon after my last report. Our proposal that American tourists be allowed to purchase hunting licenses for the purpose of shooting Antarctic penguins elicited such a spate of letters, most of them replete with vile obscenities and highly personal insults, that we have had to consider other ways to solve the real problem of the depletion of the ozone layer overlaying Antarctica.
 
We of course stand firmly behind our initial hypothesis, that the cause of this hole in the sky is the accumulation of penguin droppings. We still consider our aforementioned proposal eminently practical. And we wonder why the protestors did not accept our challenge to research an alternative to this proposal, that is, concocting a diet that would make the penguin dung environmentally sound.
 
But we are no fools. At the present time, our proposal is, despite its scientific brilliance, politically unpalatable. We are left to consider an alternate scheme.
 
We begin by calling attention to a fundamental difference. Just as medical science recognizes a distinction between HDL (the so-called “good” cholesterol) and LDL (“bad” cholesterol), so meteorological science posits a distinction between “good” ozone and “bad” ozone. Or, to put it more accurately (since ozone is ozone, a triatomic form of oxygen), the ozone layer in the sky is good, while the ozone that is a chief ingredient in the smog we breathe is unhealthy for photographers and other living beings.
 
Given this fact, we at MJTT spent two weeks devising plans for replenishing the Antarctic ozone layer.
 
Our first suggestion is the soul of modesty: simply purchase one hundred Hummers, ship them to McMurdo station, along with millions of barrels of gasoline, aim their tailpipes at the sky, and let them loose. We estimate that the hole in the ozone layer will be patched in 73.9 days. (This assumes, of course, that the penguin population remains stable, that there be no outbreak of diarrhea among those stately birds, etc.)
 
This solves one problem. A bolder move, however, would solve two. Inspired by the idea behind the construction of the California aqueduct system, we are in a position to propose the construction of a wide, long, flexible pipe extending from the Los Angeles vicinity to the heavens above McMurdo. The purpose of this engineering marvel would be, of course, to transport the smog (consisting primarily of the “bad” ozone) of Southern California to the currently-depleted ozonosphere, where it would serve a useful purpose.
 
At the Southern California end of this ozonaduct, there would be a series of smaller feeder pipes into which the smog would be forced by the evening westerly winds or, during the daytime, by powerful fans. On leaving California, the ozonaduct would be held aloft by a long string of hot air balloons stationed at, say, 5,000 meters above sea level. The Antarctic end of this ozonaduct would extend upwards, held in place by a bevy of Army helicopters, converted from their original military purpose for use at high altitudes.
 
Politically feasible? We think so. This solution should please environmentalists, the construction industry, and animal rights activists.