April 22nd, 2011

angry

Matters Matrimonial


The tip of my pinky finger is approximately one centimetre across.

This is subdivided into 10 millimetres. A millimetre is approximately the width of a grain of rice.

A micrometer is about the size of a pore on a surgical mask - viruses can still get through, though bacteria can't - to give you some idea.

A nanometre is approximately the same size as one end of a carbon nano-tube, those useful things that we're going to use building tiny machines. Calling them nano-machines is a bit of a misnomer as - obviously - they're going to have to be bigger than that.

A picometre is roughly the same size as the wavelength of a gamma ray.

A femtometre is roughly the same size as a proton, or thereabouts. Some theorise we could build machines at this scale, rather than nano scale, and this would be 'alchemy' in a sense.

An attometre? Well, we descent further into the subatomic here and that's the size of quarks.

The zeptometre is even smaller, now we're talking about preons, the building blocks OF quarks.

Now we're down to a yoctometre, that's about the size of neutrinos, they sleet through most matter without being detected.

Way down, much further than this, down several powers of ten we arrive at the planck scale. This is theoretically as small as anything in the physical universe can get. This is the realm of 'quantum foam' and 'superstrings'.

Some go further and posit that on some deeper level still the universe is 'information' and information can be expressed as ones and zeros, its presence and its absence.

That zero.

That absence.

THAT is how much of a fuck I give about the Royal wedding.

Oh, of course I give a fuck about the things surrounding it. I give a fuck that the country is grinding to a halt for the sake of a meaningless toff to get hitched and pump out more blueblood babies post-haste. I give a fuck that people are being given another day off (nice). I definitely give a fuck that I can't watch the news these days without seeing Nicholas - bloody - Witchall toadying up. I give a fuck that we seem to have stepped back 100 years in time in terms of deference to a bunch of stuck-up Germans with no more claim to real fame than Paris - fucking - Hilton.

Oh yes. I give a fuck about it that way, tangentially. Just not the thing itself.

Of course, we all know the real reason they're making a big deal of it and they're doing it now. It takes more than a single dose of commoner genes to correct the damage of centuries and William is losing his boyish good looks so fast it looks like he's melting. It seems Charles' 'lizard' DNA is rapidly asserting itself so we've had to sacrifice a princess to the dragon post-haste. Perhaps in another ten generations of them marrying relative commoners they'll produce some offspring that DOESN'T look like the progeny of a misguided attempt to breed dumbo and an angler fish, but I'm not holding out hope.

If you want me on wedding day I'll be drowning my screams in console games and work.