The reasons for this are obvious, chief among those are budgetary. CGI still costs money today, and these things were made in the late 90s. Beside, why spend the money on background dinosaurs? It would only confuse viewers anyway. It does, however, deprive viewers of the notion. Still, this isn’t a post to review a decade-old documentary, no matter how watchable it remains. (If updated, I’m sure it would simply feature more feathers, which seems to be the way our notions of dinosaurs are evolving.)

Besides, the kids love Dinosaur Train and we felt it was time to show them the truth about dinosaurs, that Laura the Giganotosaurus wouldn’t necessarily get along with little Ned the Brachiosaurus…and not just because they come from different ends of the Cretaceous.

Last night we watched the Cruel Sea episode, featuring gigantic liopleurodons — the big nasties of their day — and plesiousaur-like cryptoclidus. Certainly, the Jurassic seas would be teeming with more than just five or six species of beast. Most of which, I’m sure would kill you if you were there, much like I perceive anything off the coast of Australia, from salt water crocs (who would be at home in the Cretaceous) to great white sharks (ditto) to teeny cute little octopuses that will kill you if you accidentally step on them.

The truth is that it took a vast ecosystem to support apex predators like liopleurodons and smaller fish-eaters like cryptoclidus. That’s why I am always fascinated with people who claim that the various lake and river monsters around the world are plesiosaurs. And they never see small plesiousaurs either, like cryptoclidus, which measured in at about three meters. But even at three meters, a herd or pod or whatever the hell you call a group of these things would require a lot of fish to eat. And there would have to be more than one. Even if this particular lake monster was the last of its long-lived kind, one would think you’d find fossil evidence of recent critters of its kind around.

Take this story for example, the Hawkesbury River beastie. Now, color me a judgmental skeptic (which would be chartreuse, perhaps?), but I’m going to go off the bat with doubts that they have a dinosaur in their river.

Descriptions of the Hawkesbury River Monster liken it to the prehistoric plesiosaur, an aquatic dinosaur 70 million years extinct.

The Loch Ness monster is also said to be related to the same extinct creature. How the Nessie myth is similar to our own, HERE

Mr Jones said plesiosaurs did exist in Australia, but ther was no evidence of them inhabiting the Hawkesbury River.

However both Mr Gilroy and Mr Jones describe the aquatic dinosaur as grey and mottled in colour, with a large bulky body, two sets of paddle-like flippers, a long neck and serpent-like head and thick, eel-like tail.

Sighting reports describe it as about 24m long. Mr Jones said the plesiosaur grew up to 10m long.

Mr Gilroy said he and his field assistant Greg Foster may have sighted the creature last August, from a high bank near Wiseman’s Ferry.

They described seeing a dark, bulky shape with a long neck about a metre from the surface.

Its movements caused surface disturbance which appeared to suggest a marine creature with two sets of flippers and a tail, Mr Gilroy said.

The Mr. Jones quoted here Robert Jones, a paleontologist from the Australia Museum, and if you notice here that the reporter suggests that Jones and the cryptophile Gilroy are describing similar creatures, although at no point does he mention Gilroy seeing anything more than a long-neck. All of this sounds familiar. In fact, it sounds like Nessie and Champie, both lake creatures purported to be plesiosaurs and also purported to be among the legendary creatures of the local natives. I’m just going to through this out there and say that, perhaps, they are not seeing similar creatures but, instead, they are seeing similar phenomena, whether it is an animal or just a convincing mixture of logs and currents.

Ben Radford, editor of Skeptical Inquirer, wrote a great book with Joe Nickell about lake monsters, called Lake Monster Mysteries, in fact. In it, they investigate a number of the world’s great lake monsters and generally find sincere, thoughtful people, like Gilroy, who are absolutely convinced that they see a plesiosaur.

From their conclusion:

Although many sane and sincere people think they are seeing lake leviathans, in all likelihood they are encountering something they misperceive as such. We have given many examples in this book, including otters, eels, logs, and beavers. These eyewitnesses are not foolish; they are subject to the same psychological and perceptive errors that plague all of us from time to time.

I don’t doubt that these people think that they’re seeing something in Hawkesbury river. They’re not crazy, although their conclusions are more than a little premature. And I don’t doubt that Aborigines, Native Americans and ancient Celts all saw something similar in Hawkesbury, Lake Champlain and Loch Ness, respectively. (Of course, they interpreted these things as dragons and serpents and whatever a moolyewonk is, since they didn’t know about plesiosaurs.) Something like a 24 meter plesiosaur, however, would be awfully tough to hide. They’re air breathers, they need to eat a lot of fish, and they laid eggs on land.

Having one of these in your lake or river, no matter how well it hides, would have some affect on the local environment. It would be like having JD Salinger in your neighborhood. He may not be available for interviews and photographs, but the neighbors have seen him and he still gets mail delivery.

The baby teeth are still nothing to sneeze at

But this isn’t that story. No, this is a story about how these gigantic predatory, be-toothed demon creatures loved their babies.

Yes, gentle reader, scientists publishing in the Public Library of Science describe the discovery of Megalodon nurseries (awww!) where hatchling sharks were protected by their enormous mothers until they themselves were big enough to swallow an entire Grateful Dead cover band in one go (including their van, most likely). How sweet.

(via Everyone PLoS ONE’s community blog)

In Sweden, even the sea life is flat pack.

The Regalecus glesne, known as the King of Herrings or Giant Oarfish, was found dead in the small fishing village of Bovallstrand on Sweden’s west coast, about 140 miles from the Norwegian border.

In less sensational terms, this is an oarfish, which normally makes its home in the Eastern Atlantic/Mediterranean. While rare for Sweden, I gather, this isn’t a very large specimen, as they seem to grow to 50 feet. So, for the King of Herrings, this one’s a bit of a pike(r). Here’s an entry from SeaSky, for the wikipedia-averse:

The most noticeable feature of the oarfish is its extremely long, ribbon-like body. These fish can reach a length of over 50 feet (15 meters) and weigh as much as 600 pounds (272 kilograms). Its scaleless body is covered with a silver to silvery blue skin and is topped with an ornate, red dorsal fin that resembles a decorative headdress. This dorsal fin runs the entire length of the fish, with a tiny spine projecting above each of over 400 individual fin rays. The pelvic fins of this fish are elongated and similarly colored. The oarfish has a small mouth with no visible teeth. Their diet consists mainly of plankton, small crustaceans, and small squid that they strain from the water using specially formed gill rakes in their mouth. In turn, the oarfish may be a food source for larger ocean carnivores such as sharks.

Oh, and SeaSky, green and yellow text on black? Really?

So, to sum up. Not really a herring. Not really that big (as far as these things go). And, while it is a plankton eater, I would not be terribly happy to see one swim past. (I’d get bored after the first 30 feet, for one thing.)

(via Museum of the Weird, one of my favorite places in Austin.)

It is a great start to a list in need of expansion (great blog, too). I’ve read most of these, but the list suggests a few I hadn’t heard of or gotten around to.

My favorite book is on the list, De Kruif’s Microbe Hunters, which is still very readable.

Both Popper and Kuhn are there, although neither are very fun reading. (I favor Kuhn, but I’ve always felt that he Kuhn missed the mark in some ways. Paradigm shifts happen rarely — and entire fields will only ever get one or two — but most progress in science is through relentless incrementalism. It seems to me the whole observation is in some ways reflective of a particular moment in time, as the various disciplines matured. Also, it is a fairly Western-oriented look at science. Also, also, I hold a grudge against Kuhn for popularizing the term “paradigm shift,” damn him.)

As I said, the list needs to grow some. Off the top of my head, here are a few that I’d consider candidates:
The Lives of a Cell by Lewis Thomas
Six Easy Pieces by Richard Feynman (or maybe Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman…tough call…)
Innumeracy: Mathematical Illiteracy and its Consequences by John Allen Paulos
Consciousness Explained by Daniel Dennett (It marks a particular moment in time when scientists really began to talk frankly and openly about consciousness. His Darwin’s Dangerous Idea is great as well.)

I’m sure there are more, but I’ll post them as I think of them.

One seal brought a penguin over to me. I didn’t touch it; I just sat there and photographed. The penguin took off, and the seal grabbed it, brought it back to me, and put it on my camera dome again.

Eventually the seal got upset and started blowing bubbles at me. It was the most fascinating interaction I’ve ever had.

Watch the full video here. And another version here:

Part of me is amazed that an enormous leopard seal could be so kind to another creature…and the other part is annoyed on behalf of the leopard seal. All of me would have been paralyzed with fear.

Still…if someone offers you a penguin, eat it. We are talking common manners here.

Paranormalists often point to the commonalities of near death and out-of-body experiences as evidence of the proof of an afterlife or astral projection. Turns out there is a more mundane — though fascinating — explanation. These experiences are common because that’s how we’re all wired in the noodle:

The doctors believe they are seeing the brain’s neurons discharge as they lose oxygen from lack of blood pressure.

“All the neurons are connected together and when they lose oxygen, their ability to maintain electrical potential goes away,” Chawla said. “I think when people lose all their blood flow, their neurons all fire in very close proximity and you get a big domino effect. We think this could explain the spike.”

It’s possible a cutoff of oxygen would trigger a similar but recoverable event that becomes seared into memory.

“Not everyone reports this light sort of business. What you hear most often reported (in near-death experiences) is just a vivid memory,” Chawla said.

You see, when the carcass lands on the bottom of the sea, a whole host of unpleasant critters come out to eat it in a process that can take months — or even years if the whale lands in deep, deep water. Among those critters are members of the genus Osedax, bone-eating worms related to tubeworms or those guys you see hanging out by thermal vents…if you happen to go past a lot of thermal vents, that is.

Robert Vrijenhoek of the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute first discovered these little red bone-munching guys while out in the ROV Tiburon, which is a vehicle with just an awesome name. Their press release provides a great read. (And, doesn’t he look like something out of central casting for ocean explorer?)

Sure, unless your diet has really slipped and you’ve reached blue whale proportions, you don’t have much to worry about from these critters (aside from the fact that you’d be dead and lacking cares, in general). But the fact that these guys are down there waiting…just waiting…gives me the creeps.

Even creepier is that all those little red wigglers you see in the picture above are all females. They’re not hermaphrodites. Oh no, that would be normal in comparison. All of these worms are actually giant masters over their microscopic male concubines. That’s right, mini sex slaves. Invertebrates with a dwarf fetish.

But, according to Vrijenhoek, “That was not the end of the weirdness. In looking at the worms under a microscope, we discovered that every one of them was a female. We didn’t find any males until I got another call from Greg Rouse. He said, ‘Bob, it’s worse than you think.’ I said, ‘What now, Greg?’ He said ‘There really are males, but they are microscopic. They are dwarfs!’”

Sure enough, living within the tube that enclosed each female were 30 to 100 microscopic male worms, each only about a millimeter long. Not only that, but the male worms were still in a larval stage of development. They were making sperm in one part of their bodies, while other parts of the bodies still contained the yolk droplets. As Vrijenhoek put it, “These males don’t feed. A male lives its entire life off the yolk that was provisioned by the egg from which it hatched. This is one of the few cases in the animal world where sexually reproducing individuals are barely more developed than eggs. It’s weird.”

Last night, I did the somewhat unthinkable (or at least, unreasonable) for a self-avowed skeptic: I bought a Powerball ticket. I lost, of course, as do the vast, vast majority of people who buy these tickets. It isn’t a good investment of even one measly greenback — but hey, it’s a vice.

And speaking of vices, I also realize I drink too much coffee. I’m going to try to quit — or at least drastically cut back — and I reckon I’d easily spend at leat $100 over a given four months for coffee and other caffeinated beverages.

Still, my loss is your gain — provided you have actual psychic powers. For this month only, if you can guess all six numbers — originally chosen by the Powerball machine — I will give your favorite charity $100. If nobody successfully guesses, I’ll donate the money to the James Randi Educational Foundation.

Here’s how Powerball works, from their site:

Powerball® is a combined large jackpot game and a cash game. Every Wednesday and Saturday night at 10:59 p.m. Eastern Time, we draw five white balls out of a drum with 59 balls and one red ball out of a drum with 39 red balls.

I’ve been told that many psychics refrain from playing the lottery as it would be a crass abuse of their powers. Fortunately for you, I have a guilt-free method with which you can demonstrate your powers and be assured that a deserving charity gets the full total of the award in your name. In the very least, you’ll be able to keep that Randi guy from getting another benjamin.

I’m sorry that it couldn’t be more, but if I were rich — or good with money — I wouldn’t be buying lottery tickets.

Here are the rules:

1) You have until 11:59 PM (Eastern Time) on October 31, 2009 to post your guess of six Powerball numbers to this blog entry.
2) You must provide your e-mail address. One guess per person. (I’ll check IPs/emails).
3) You must indicate a 501(c)(3) charity in your post. Otherwise, I’ll donate it to JREF in your name.
4) The lottery ticket will be kept in my wallet. If my wallet becomes lost/stolen over this month, the contest will end. Void. Kaput.
5) Your sole hint: the Powerball ticket was purchased September 30, 2009
6) If, for some reason, I lose my main source of income this month, i.e., “my freakin’ job,” the psychic challenge will stand, but I will hold off on donating to JREF. Sorry Randi, Phil.
7) Payments will be made in four monthly installments, since this is coming out of my coffee money.

UPDATE (30 seconds later): A few quick edits for typos.

UPDATE 2 (1.5 hrs later, or so): Just to be clear, I am in no way affiliated with the James Randi Educational Fund. They neither sponsor nor sanction this brutal test of paranormal abilities.

UPDATE 3: Damn. I lost the ticket. It must have slipped out of my wallet. We’ll try again later. Skeptifail!

Sometimes I think it you are less likely to see an exaggeration in a corporate release about a clinical trial than in an academic press release. The corporate flack is beholden to a separate set of rules much stricter than those seen in non-profit academic centers. (In general, however, they overcompensate their bland, corporate releases by being complete PsITAs when it comes to pitching their stories. What isn’t generally well known is how hard they try leaning on academic flacks to do their dirty work for them. In my experience, at least. )

According to Goldacre, among the chief flack crimes is not correctly depicting the size and quality of the research described. I know from experience that some press release editors frown on including such materials, assuming that good journalists would follow up and actually read the study and speak to the reporters. That might have been a safe assumption at one point, but no longer, since many press releases get picked up and used online (and often in print) verbatim.

Researchers at Dartmouth Medical School in New Hampshire took one year’s worth of press releases from 10 medical research centres {The Annals tipsheet, quoted below, mentions 20, hmmm… –Greg}, a mixture of the most eminent universities and the most humble, as measured by their US News & World Report ranking. These centres each put out around one press release a week, so 200 were selected at random and analysed in detail.

Half of them covered research done in humans, and as an early clue to their quality, 23% didn’t bother to mention the number of participants – it’s hard to imagine anything more basic – and 34% failed to quantify their results. But what kinds of study were covered? In medical research we talk about the “hierarchies of evidence”, ranked by quality and type. Systematic reviews of randomised trials are the most reliable: because they ensure that conclusions are based on all of the information, rather than just some of it; and because – when conducted properly – they are the least vulnerable to bias.

He is absolutely right of course, depicting the quality of the study is every bit as important as spelling the lead researchers name correctly. (To be totally honest, I’ve probably failed on both accounts in the course of the hundreds of clinical science releases I’ve written.) And I couldn’t imagine writing a release that didn’t report the number of people in a study. However, it is entirely appropriate for such information to be placed further down in the release. Not buried, mind you, along with the boilerplate and the acknowledgments-you-know-people-won’t-read-but-you-add-anyway-to-appease-the-scientist’s-collaborators. It is also very tricky to explain studies in terms lay audiences might understand without including a few extra paragraphs explaining what a P value means. Again, there is a middle ground, but it behooves flacks to mention the statistical significance of the study they’re promoting. Even a small study with few people can be significant, a fact lost on most folks, flacks especially.

Probably a bigger crime, one that Goldacre doesn’t address directly and is probably not part of the study, is the inability to distinguish between animal and human trials. Many institutions shy away from mentioning animal models as a rule, since people often react angrily — even violently — to the shocking news that you may be working on lab rats. In the past, I’ve used the term “animal model” instead of specifying rat or mouse, which were usually the animal involved. If the study involved a primate, I would have to say something and risk the reaction.

I haven’t read the Dartmouth study myself, but it doesn’t appear that the sin of omission isn’t the only source of exaggeration noted in releases. Here is how the Annals of Internal Medicine’s press tipsheet summarized it:

The news media is often criticized for exaggerating science stories and deliberately sensationalizing the news. However, researchers argue that sensationalism may begin with the journalists’ sources. The researchers reviewed 200 press releases from 20 academic medical centers. They concluded that academic press releases often promote research with uncertain relevance to human health without acknowledging important cautions or limitations. However, since the researchers did not analyze news coverage stemming from the press releases, they could not directly link problems with press releases with exaggerated or sensational reporting. The study authors suggest that academic centers issue fewer releases about preliminary research, especially unpublished scientific meeting presentations. By issuing fewer press releases, academic centers could help reduce the chance that journalists and the public are misled about the importance or implications of medical research.

The problem is that the act of sending out a press release fundamentally risks exaggeration by calling attention to something. Even if you are perfectly clear that the study is small and adds but an incremental bit of information to the larger scientific world, the very fact you are writing a release is calling attention to it. And, of course, you can write the least sensational press release in the world and still have it taken out of context by a reporter looking for lurid headlines.

I’d also like to know what the researchers consider cautions or limitations. According to the Goldacre piece, 58% of releases lack these sorts of things. That’s a fairly high number that, doing the gut check, might be a matter of perspective. Would an un-read disclaimer — in the “forward-looking views”-sense — be viewed as proper caution? Were some releases entirely “cautious” while others not so complete in their cautioning?

So, should institutions send out fewer releases? Some, perhaps, but that’s a superficial answer. I know some places that have instituted a quota system on public relations people and use press releases as a measure of productivity. I think that is a poor practice that practically guarantees shoddy releases, of course. Then again, I’ve worked in places where I would have sent out twice the amount of news releases if I had the time, because the science there was just that plentiful and interesting. It isn’t all that cut and dry.

Press officers are always told to look for clinical relevance in basic science stories. They are told that journalists won’t write about it otherwise. This has a certain bit of truth to it, of course. The journalist you pitch must often, in turn, pitch an editor, who will generally ask about “the point of it all.” The horror.

The majority of biomedical press releases I have written have been about laboratory results. Basic science stuff, molecules bopping into each other, and all. And here you must work hard not to exaggerate the potential clinical use of those findings. Releases like these are often written with the trade press in mind as often — if not more often — than the popular press.

Why? Because, when done well, it helps establish researchers and their institutions as productive and interesting. Because basic science does, in fact, lead to advanced medicine. Because the noise beats signal out there and someone must shepherd the good science around the din.

Still, it is up to the press officer to be an advocate for their institution as well as responsibly advocate the science. That’s where it helps to find a useful story angle to pitch…which, when done thoughtlessly, inevitably leads to the use of the words “holy grail” or, worse, a reference to Star Trek. The trick is to pitch the story behind the science as well as the science itself in order to find the relevance, a feat that is far easier said than done.

With fewer science reporters out there it has become — for better or worse — incumbent upon public affairs people (PIOs, Flacks) to tell the story right the first time.