The real identity of Spanish Prime Minister and EU President, Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, has been revealed: when the clouds of hot air that surround all politicians finally clear, underneath he’s really Mr Bean.

Okay, so not really. And while I can’t condone hacking the website of the EU Presidency, replacing Mr Zapatero’s image with that of Mr Bean tickles me, given my love of seeing politicians brought down a peg or two.

The reason for the hacker’s character of choice lies in the fact that the physical similarity between Mr Zapatero and Rowan Atkinson’s character is a long-standing joke in Spain. But I’m guessing that there’s a tad more to the resemblance – after all, the phrase ‘bumbling fool’ may describe Mr Bean, but is surely far more apt for many of our esteemed politicians. In fact, Mr Bean may do a better job than many of the folk currently in office worldwide….

Santa Claus is coming to town. Yes, folks, Christmas is nearly upon us, and the rotund bearded man in red will soon be making his rounds, bearing gifts for those who’ve been good for goodness’ sake.

But, what if you’ve watched out, made sure not to cry, definitely not pouted, been way more nice than naughty… and yet, on the night that Santa comes to town, you’re not there? What if you miss the jolly gentleman who started his career advertising a certain soft drink, before branching out into the Christmas gift distribution arena?

Well, the good news is: you can at least still get the t-shirt. This is one Christmas present that you won’t want to return after the holiday.

If a tree falls in a forest, and there’s no-one around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Well, we can debate that till the cows come home, and bore ourselves to death in the process. Perhaps then, when we reach the pearly gates, St Peter will finally be able to answer all those metaphysical questions that us humans have about the nature of existence and reality.

In the meantime, being a tad on the geeky side of the continuum, let’s look at the scientific answer, as best we’re able, since a random Googling of the question appears to reveal some disagreement among the scientists too.

One thing seems clear: when a tree falls, it creates vibrations in the air surrounding it. In other words, it creates sound waves. But then opinion seems to diverge.

For some people, this seems to be enough. If sound waves are present, then sound exists. Ergo (yup, that’s some fancy Latin inserted for this special scientific-like post), the tree always makes a sound when it falls, regardless of whether anyone’s in the vicinity or not.

On the other hand, some people argue vociferously that sound waves require a receiver in order for them to actually be perceived as sound. So, without an ear drum to interpret the sound waves created by the falling tree, it dies a silent death. This particular answer seems to partly rely on human arrogance which assumes that only human eardrums count. What about the birds and small furry creatures and bugs that abound in forest settings? Do bugs even have eardrums? How about ents? What if the tree is an ent? Enquiring minds want to know.

And while enquiring minds are waiting on the answers, they can buy the t-shirt instead:

Tree Falling In Forest T-Shirt (White)

More colors and sizes are available in our online store.

Despite over 7 000 people claiming to have attended the Sex Pistols’ legendary gig at Manchester’s Lesser Free Trade Hall on 4 June 1976, only about 40 people were actually in the audience that night.

To a large extent, those 40 or so people were not even that impressed with what they saw. They were shocked, they were amused, they were disdainful, and they were disinterested. But, most importantly, the Sex Pistols’ music challenged their assumptions of what rock should sound like and look like.

And that’s why a live performance that, by all accounts, could have been called a failure at the time, has, in retrospect become known as “the gig that changed the world”.

The audience may have been small, but it contained some people who would go on to have a large influence on the independent music scene – Morrisey (who later formed The Smiths), Bernard Sumner, Ian Curtis and Peter Hook (who went on to form Joy Divisionand New Order), Mark E Smith (who would later form The Fall), and Pete Shelley and Howard Devoto, from The Buzzcocks. It was the latter two who organised the Sex Pistols’ gig, hiring the Lesser Free Trade Hall for the grand sum of £32 for the night.

The Sex Pistols’ catalytical effect on the British music industry propelled them into mythical status. Not bad for a band that only ever produced 1 studio album and 4 singles during a short two and a half year career.

Like all catalysts, however, the Sex Pistols burned bright and hot for a brief period before self-destructing. They courted controversy with their behaviour and songs, like the classic God Save The Queen, which was banned by radio stations across the UK and refused shelf-space by most record shops. Their gigs were chaotic and iconoclastic. The names Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious are synonymous with nonconformity and irreverence.

It’s no wonder that so many people claim to have been at the Sex Pistols’ Manchester gig. Who can blame them? It’s hard to accept that you missed out on the moment the world changed.

… when the Eagle landed on the moon, neither was Michael Collins.

Monday 20 July 2009 marks the 40th anniversary of the first manned moon landing. And, in honour of the occasion, we’ve decided to dedicate this blog post to the man who has the ultimate “I Wasn’t There” story related to the event: Major General Michael Collins.

By virtue of being the Apollo 11 mission pilot, Collins had to remain in the command shuttle, orbiting the moon while Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin got to go down and leave footprints on its surface.

“Far from feeling lonely or abandoned, I feel very much a part of what is taking place on the lunar surface. I know that I would be a liar or a fool if I said that I have the best of the three Apollo 11 seats, but I can say with truth and equanimity that I am perfectly satisfied with the one I have.”
Michael Collins, in Carrying the Fire: An Astronaut’s Journeys.

Piloting Apollo 11 to the moon was actually Collins’ second space flight. His first was aboard Gemini 10 in 1966, when he and John W Young were tasked with (amongst others) retrieving a cosmic dust-collecting panel from the side of a dormant Agena Target Vehicle, left drifting in space after the aborted Gemini 8 mission. This task required Collins to complete a 15 meter space-walk. So, no footprints on the moon, but Michael Collins at least got to float among the stars.

“I really believe that if the political leaders of the world could see their planet from a distance of 100,000 miles their outlook could be fundamentally changed. That all-important border would be invisible, that noisy argument silenced. The tiny globe would continue to turn, serenely ignoring its subdivisions, presenting a unified facade that would cry out for unified understanding, for homogeneous treatment. The earth must become as it appears: blue and white, not capitalist or Communist; blue and white, not rich or poor; blue and white, not envious or envied.”
Michael Collins, in Carrying the Fire: An Astronaut’s Journeys.

Collins was born on 31 October 1930 in Rome, Italy, where his father, a Major General in the US Army, was stationed at the time. Prior to becoming an astronaut, Collins followed his father into a military career, joining the US Air Force as a test pilot.

It was John Glenn’s 1962 flight around the earth that inspired Michael Collins to become an astronaut. Although he was rejected upon his first application to NASA in 1962, he was accepted into their ranks the following year.

Collins retired from NASA in 1970, just a year after flying to the moon. He had been offered and accepted the position of Assistant Secretary For Public Affairs in the Department Of State. After a year, he left to become the Director of the National Air And Space Museum, a role he held until 1978 when he moved to the Smithsonian Institute as Undersecretary. In 1980, he became Vice-President of LTV Aerospace, until resigning in 1985 to start his own engineering consulting business.

A devoted family man, Collins (now 78) is still married to his wife Patricia, with whom he had three children – Kate, Ann and Michael Jr. Kate, an actress, appeared in the soapie All My Children as Janet Marlowe Green Dillon.

If you can remember the 60s, then you weren’t really there. Or so they say, “they” in this case allegedly being Robin Williams, though it seems most people are a bit hazy on this too. Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll will do this to you. Well, the drugs will, at least. Or so they say.

The Swinging Sixties has achieved iconic status. Its music lives on, as do, against all odds, most of the musicians who gave us some of the greatest songs of all time. Bob Dylan is still going strong, as are members of The Rolling Stones (Keith Richards, by now, is pickled and will live forever more, amen), The Beatles, The Who, Pink Floyd, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

The fashion of the 60s keeps making a comeback. The fashion industry, it would seem, is one of the best at recycling, bringing back Mary Quant’s mini skirts and the hippie chic of the late 60s every time they run out of ideas. If you want my opinion (and even if you don’t, you’ll get it anyway, since this is my blog and I will opine if I want to), the Sixties styles are infinitely preferable to those of the 80s, which didn’t look good then and certainly don’t now.

From descriptions of the 60s, the decade sounds like one long psychedelic party that morphed into the summer of love, saw men walking on the moon, and culminated at Woodstock, the music festival that set the bar for all festivals since. But, since those waxing lyrical about the decade obviously remember it well, it stands to reason that they weren’t actually there. Which is why, when the history books are consulted, the dark heart of the 60s emerges.

The Cold War and its constant threat of nuclear attacks meant that bomb shelters became as standard as garden furniture. The Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 was the closest the world ever came to full on nuclear war. Thank God someone blinked. The Berlin Wall was built and a city divided, America took on Vietnam, and Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison. John F Kennedy was assassinated, as was Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr and Robert F Kennedy.

Whichever way you look at it, the Sixties was certainly memorable. But, I can’t possibly comment. I wasn’t there.

Buy our “I remember the 60s” t-shirt:

Remember The 60s White T-Shirt

The first manned moon landing took place on 20 July 1969. Or maybe it didn’t.

According to conspiracy theorists, all that occurred was the filming of another Stanley Kubrick movie, albeit one designed to fool the world into thinking that the USA had won the Space Race. Think of it as the first reality show, if you will.

So what’s the truth? Are we celebrating the 40th anniversary of this historic occasion? Or not?

I love conspiracy theories. Some of them are exceptionally well crafted and plant little seeds of doubt in my mind. Others, perhaps not so convincing, but I marvel at the theorists’ creativity and dedication nonetheless, and applaud their courage in standing up for what they believe in the face of much critical opposition.

In my heart of hearts, I want to believe that Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin walked on the surface of the moon. I want to feel for their fellow crew member, Michael Collins, who somehow drew the short straw of having to stay behind in the command shuttle. I mean, that’s surely got to suck big time right? To go all that way and then not even to get a little moon dust on your boots?

But maybe I shouldn’t feel too sorry for him… after all, say conspiracy theorists, there’s something just a tad suspicious about that moon dust and those boot prints left up there. How on earth (er, moon?) did those prints stay so perfect when there’s no water up there to bond the sand together? And why wasn’t there more moon dust flying about all over the place when the Eagle landed? Valid points perhaps, though to give them some credit, the scientists have also been able to dazzle my mind with their technical explanations about the special properties of moon dust and vacuums that creates effects like that.

But then, you know, alarm bells start ringing at the mention of effects… special effects to be precise. The lunar module looks like it’s made from cardboard and tin foil, stuck together with scotch tape – your classic 1960s film prop. Some of the footage appears to show the astronauts jumping around matrix like with the help of wires, the mountains in the background are the same in photos supposedly taken miles apart, and the lighting is clearly from spotlights.

And then there’s the American flag that proudly waves in the breeze. Wait, hang on, what? No breeze on the moon? Ah, right. Vacuum. Yes.

Add in the original high quality footage that has conveniently gone “missing”, the stars that have all “disappeared” from the sky, and the continuity errors in the footage, and what you end up with is a lot of question marks. Not very scientific, all that uncertainty, is it?

To be sure, there are explanations for some of the conspiracy theorists’ accusations. Some very good explanations. Quite convincing, most of them.

And they’ve nearly swayed me. Now all I need is an explanation of how NASA got Apollo 11 all the way to the moon using the equivalent of a pocket calculator in computing power. Yup, you heard me. It takes 1GB of RAM to play a computer game these days. Heck, it even takes 210MB to run MS Office so that you can type a letter to someone. But it took a mere 152kb to send men all the way to the moon. Kilobytes. Kilo. Bytes. That’s not even a full floppy disk. Remember those?