IKEA MonkeyYou just say no and smile. No and smile. No and smile. We did this and got our free gift, but also had a good laugh at how far they kept trying to go to make the (very expensive) timeshare more "affordable", dropping the cost again and again, from like $40K to $15K by the end.
There’s a reason the words timeshare and scam often go together: in most cases, buying a timeshare is a bad financial decision. Because of their notorious reputation, timeshare companies tempt you with freebies like dinner vouchers, concert tickets, or awesome vacations. All you have to do is survive a grueling, high-pressure presentation. If you like playing with fire, here are some tips for making it to the other side without caving—and with your free gift.
IKEA MonkeyObama Derangement Syndrome is the best way to describe the frothing madness of the right
It looks like the months-long dominance of Donald Trump may finally be over. The leader in the race for the Republican nomination is now, according to some polls, Dr. Ben Carson. In Iowa, Carson now leads by a significant margin, according to a new Monmouth poll that puts his support among Republican voters at 32 percent, compared to 18 percent for Trump. Nationally, a fresh New York Times/CBS News poll shows Carson leading Trump 26 percent to 22 percent. This is Carson's moment, and a great performance at Wednesday's GOP primary debate could push him higher, pulling support from voters who want an outsider candidate but have tired of the Trump Show.
But before we get too far on the Carson train, I have to step back and confess that the rise of the former pediatric neurosurgeon has me perplexed. Why is Carson resonating? What is it that people like about him? What exactly is his brand?
Much has been said about how Trump's pompous brashness flows from the id of very angry people on the right. So then what does it mean to have Carson supplant Trump? This is a massive cultural shift. If Trump were music he'd be some arrogant, abrasive, look-at-me, late-career Kanye; the soft-spoken Carson, would be some Kenny G-style, Muzakified smooth jazz. He talks like he's trying to lull you to sleep—although the content of what he says is so extreme, in a sense he's shouting just as loud as Trump.
Carson has a way with analogies. He likes to stretch them out to the nth degree, a habit that often destroys his point, inadvertently shifting the discussion toward him and his lack of judgment. Case in point: Carson's political star shot into the stratosphere when compared Obamacare to slavery. "Obamacare is really I think the worst thing that has happened in this nation since slavery," Carson told the Values Voter Summit in 2013. "And it is in a way, it is slavery in a way, because it is making all of us subservient to the government." It's a sentiment he's repeated many times since.
More from Toure: Talking to White People About Their White Privilege
And the slavery analogies aren't limited to Obamacare. In an appearance on Meet the Press Sunday, he compared women who get abortions to slave owners, saying that both believe they can "do whatever they want" to another person. In the past few weeks alone, he's said that the Jews might have prevented the Holocaust if they'd had guns, that Muslims should be disqualified from the presidency, and that Obama signed an executive order on immigration reform in order to create new Democratic voters. He also thought Congress should remove federal judges who ruled in favor marriage equality. I could go on, but you get the picture.
So Carson is, among other things, anti-abortion, anti-Obamacare, anti-immigrant, Islamophobic, and LGBT-intolerant. Which means that for people on the right who long for a world without abortion, immigrants, Obamacare, and Obama, Carson is a dream. In that respect, his rise in popularity, like that of Trump, relates directly to Obama Derangement Syndrome: His attacks on the president— sometimes to his face—are highly seductive to that group of Americans who remain so angry about Obama's election that they oppose everything he stands for, and even oppose governing itself, cheering for shutdowns and endless obstruction and endless attacks on Obamacare and Benghazi! that put the country's ability to function in real danger.
Related: Ben Carson Reminds Us Why America Loves to Hate Muslims
Carson does have an inspiring personal story. He grew up poor in Detroit but made it to Yale University and eventually to the neurosurgery team at Johns Hopkins, where he made medical history. The "I-got-here-all-by-myself" narrative is appealing, particularly to a conservative electorate. His success seems to attack the notion that race holds people back, and appears to prove the right's tightly held argument that anyone can make it in the US, if only they try hard enough.
There is, of course, a deeper psychological aspect of this. While Obama Derangement Syndrome is not entirely fueled by racism, such vehement opposition to the president can lead to charges that one is a racist. Whether or not that's fair is a question for another essay. In the case of Carson, though, a black man's life story seems to repudiate liberal ideas about race in America— specifically that people of color struggle to succeed in this country and that policies should be formulated to help these communities. Thus supporting Carson may somehow seem to obliterate the sense that racism is an inherent part of hating Obama.
But while Carson's journey is definitely impressive, the insistence that he did it without help is farcical. He attended public schools, lived on food stamps, and even got free glasses from a government program. He's the product of a world with safety nets that helped him in significant ways throughout his early life.
Conservatives conveniently ignore that fact, preferring to see a man who came from nothing and made it to the top of an elite medical field—a glittering backstory filled with real tangible achievements that gives Carson an advantage over Jeb and Marco and other career politicians who've spent their adult lives in statehouses or on Capitol Hill. Carson's story separates him from almost all of the other Republican candidates, save Trump, whose backstory as a successful businessman in a party that reveres business success, similarly warms conservative hearts.
Related: Toure on Why Donald Trump Will Never Be President
We assume the brother is extraordinarily intelligent, because he's a pioneering surgeon, but when Carson speaks he says dumb—or, uh, unintelligent—things. But don't be fooled by the way Carson seems to be less quick-witted than the other candidates, or the way he seems to have less of a grasp of the nuances of policy or government. The truth is, Republicans like that: The party has a deep anti-intellectual streak and is quick to fall in love with strong people who project a disdain of intellectualism and studies and facts.
This is a party that has been in love with Trump since June, and whose past trysts include Sarah Palin and George W. Bush. Carson's apparent slowness is something that separates him from the sharper political minds in the GOP presidential field, but don't be fooled: As with Trump, anti-intellectualism is part of Carson's appeal.
The thing that separates Carson from Trump, however, is his religion. Trump is lost on questions relating to faith, and his arrogance may be off-putting to many of the evangelical voters who make up a sizable chunk of the GOP's base. Carson, on the other hand, is deeply religious—he's a Seventh Day Adventist— and conducts himself in such a calm way, it seems like he just finished a nice, quiet church service. Or just finished a nice nap—but I digress. The NYT/CBS poll shows among evangelicals, Carson leads Trump by over 20 points, and other recent polls have shown a similar gap.
My friend, the political science professor Sam Popkin, author The Candidate: What It Takes to Win—and Hold—the White House, points out that this difference could be critical in a state like Iowa, where evangelicals make up a key voting bloc in the GOP. "Carson is more like Jimmy Carter than like Obama," said Popkin. "The polite, pure, dedicated outsider." Like Carter, Carson is a soft-spoken, calming, deeply religious man. Take that religious core and that nice guy mien and add in a deep hatred for Obama and you've got a dream candidate for a GOP who's pro-God and anti-Obama.
So ok, I understand that Carson's appeal flows from his ability to express Tea Party talking points in the calm voice of a political outsider. But I'm still not sure what Carson's brand slogan would be. At the last Republican debate, when it came time for candidates to give their closing statements, Carson spoke simply about being a surgeon. It seemed like he'd wandered in from a medical convention and decided to stay. But perhaps that's it. In this climate where being a political outsider is cherished, perhaps Carson's brand is "I was a surgeon." I'm not sure though. Because I've thought a lot about Ben and his appeal and I still don't entirely get it.
But maybe that's not my fault. If you can't clearly discern the central message of a campaign it usually means that campaign has done a bad job of explaining itself. So while Carson might be leading the GOP field for now, he's still got a lot of work to do to explain to America who he is.
Toure wants to know what you think about Ben Carson. Tell him on Twitter.
IKEA MonkeyCOREY we were just talking about this
Every day, Watch This offers staff recommendations inspired by a new movie coming out that week. This week: Get in the holiday spirit with these horror anthology films, which offer several scary stories for the price of one.
For most of the ’80s, Stephen King adaptations were coming to theaters at a rate of several per year; the existence of Cat’s Eye is a testament to the degree to which King on film had become more or less its own franchise by 1985. An anthology film (like 1982’s Creepshow) directed by Lewis Teague (like 1983’s Cujo) and starring Drew Barrymore (like 1984’s Firestarter), Cat’s Eye combines two King short story adaptations from his Night Shift collection with one original. (King wrote the screenplay himself.) As a horror anthology, it’s not as ghoulish as Creepshow; at least two of the stories ...
IKEA MonkeyThat thing is a mess
IKEA MonkeyThe GOP should be tired of losing, yet they keep digging their heels into the same wrong shit again and again. And they keep losing. The definition of insanity is...
IKEA MonkeyI had no idea
Invention, reinvention, and fantasy are Joan Crawford's legacies—and all made possible by one strange contest.
IKEA MonkeyToday in bear news
After a bear cub died mysteriously during a fall festival in a pumpkin patch, people are calling for a boycott of Goebbert's Farm in South Barrington. [ more › ]
IKEA MonkeyTHE BEST
If engagement photos are meant to reflect an entire relationship, then it’s no surprise that so many people include their adorable pets in the shoot. Most of the time, the animals just chill (as animals do when stuff is boring and you’ve given them a snack), but sometimes they forget they’re not the star of the show and roll right into the action, turning the camera on themselves and demanding their closeup. Like Louie, the Norma Desmond of a Minnesota couple’s expensive photo day.
Sometimes it’s easy to get wrapped up in FIFA’s more bureaucratic forms of corruption and forget that the biggest crime by far that soccer’s governing body has committed was aiding and abetting the workplace atrocities that are so prevalent in Qatar.
IKEA MonkeyI had no idea Marco Rubio was, relatively, so low on the income scale. He's practically middle-class.
Tonight, at 8pm, the top 10 Republican candidates for President of the United States will, once again, send Twitter into a frenzy as they brawl on stage for the third (fourth? eighth?) time. But this time, these ten (mostly) wildly wealthy clowns will fight over what makes the world go round: tech policy! And of course, money.
IKEA MonkeyHow scary, especially considering it happened in my neighborhood. Brave of her to fight back.
"I am sharing my story because I think there are things to be learned from my experience." [ more › ]
IKEA Monkeyburn down the Fox set
Would you let your daughter wear leggings out? I wouldn’t, but that’s because I don’t let my daughter leave her coat closet.
IKEA MonkeyIt is disturbing that the reaction of men angry that women are saying "hey, we're being harassed" is to double-down on the viciousness of their harassment rather than, say, not actually harassing women
After approving several panels dealing with online gaming and harassment, including one featuring several known supporters of the movement for “ethics in video-game journalism” that shall not be named, the South by Southwest festival in Austin realized it had a problem on its hands.
You see, when you tacitly encourage harassers, they tend to harass.
So, faced with mounting threats, SXSW canceled several panels at once — including one that involved figures targeted by harassment and another that featured proponents of that would-be “movement.” The organizers then released the following, rather milquetoast statement: “If people can not agree, disagree and embrace new ways of thinking in a safe and secure place that is free of online and offline harassment, then this marketplace of ideas is inevitably compromised.”
Panelists who were the actual targets of the harassment the festival was receiving were not impressed:
I've been receiving constant threats for a little over a year now. SXSW dealt with it for a week
— Randi Lee Harper (@randileeharper) October 27, 2015
Neither were big media firms like BuzzFeed and Vox, which both threatened to withdraw from the major tech and culture conference entirely unless the panels were reinstated or alternate programming addressing online harassment was provided.
The blunders the conference committed were manifold: the suppression of speech, the blithe naïveté regarding what has become an increasingly catastrophic problem in the tech field, the seeming victim-blaming that implicated those voices who spoke out against harassment in their own harassment, and the false equivalence SXSW’s statement made between both sides of an issue where only one side has been getting death threats and hounded into hiding.
Online advocate Briana Wu, no stranger to serious death threats, told CNNMoney that she and others had contacted organizers to talk about security before the event cancellation, but the organizers gave them the brush-off, responding to their offers to help brainstorm solutions in a “very patronizing manner.” “I’ve had death threats at events a fraction of the size, with a fraction of the budget. [They’ve] been able to handle it,” said Wu, who reportedly attended the BlogHer conference with a bodyguard.
As part of the backlash, a barnstorming letter to the SXSW brass from The Cauldron’s Chris Kluwe began circulating on social media. “First off, the panel was not on Gamergate, did not mention Gamergate, and the only tangential relation it had with Gamergate was that the odorous denizens of that particular hashtag have made it their mission to try and ruin the lives of the women involved in the panel (among others),” wrote Kluwe, adding: ” You run a festival that features A-list celebrities and tech magnates worth collective billions, superstar athletes, and some of the biggest music acts in the world, and you’re telling me you can’t provide security for a panel of three women? ”
SXSW’s organizers have come across as incredibly timid, allowing the buck to stop with the violent horde rather than taking charge themselves. It’s clear to any onlooker that those who threaten violence should not be the arbiters of who deserves a platform. And Kluwe’s pieces further underscores why SXSW’s decision was so embarrassing for the festival: the apolitical positioning and mainstream appeal that have likely made the event hesitant to attract controversy have also given it the resources, wherewithal, and power to provide adequate security for its participants. If SXSW can create an atmosphere where Kanye West can perform secret shows and Bruce Springsteen and Snoop Dogg can give keynotes, where movie stars and tech gurus can rub elbows at secret afterparties, then there’s no reason it can’t also do what it takes to ensure panelists’ safety.
Knowing how bad they look has probably influenced SXSW to backtrack, to an extent. The festival is now “considering an all-day event that focuses primarily on combatting online harassment” and has reinstated one panel, “Level Up: Overcoming Harassment in Games,” although the participants have not yet been reconfirmed.
The situation remains something of a mess. But, going forward, the question isn’t just: “Were SXSW wrong in how they handled this entire ordeal?” (yes, they were). It is: “How do you fight harassment without making participants in that fight even more vulnerable?” On the one hand, we’ve seen that if you merely give people a platform without protecting them in any way, you’re not facilitating speech but opening a conduit for harassment. On the other, if you give up and shut down discussion, the would-be silencers will have achieved their goals.
This isn’t that different from the problem faced by online platforms like Twitter, which want to be conduits for free and unfettered speech but also accidentally provided the mechanism for much of the initial Gamergate harassment. The problem is this: A forum isn’t open, a platform isn’t free, if some people are so scared they can’t participate, or if threats of violence shut down the conversation.
The critique SXSW has faced this week forces the realization that if the targets of well-publicized harassment campaigns were powerful and famous, they wouldn’t be blamed or punished for their own predicament, and everyone involved would find a way to make the show go on. Because they are simply women who have spoken out, they’re not taken as seriously. But the reality we’ve witnessed over the past several years is that any woman who speaks up about sexism in tech or gaming is vulnerable to threats. If they want to be seen as the vanguard and the future, it’s time for the titans of the tech world to accept this as the status quo and start doing something about it.
IKEA MonkeyI *love* thredup. My entire work warddrobe came from Thredup. I couldn't afford the clothes I'm wearing otherwise.
Well, at the moment, it’s not that consumers are into the marketplaces as much as investors are. After some initial resistance and confusion from venture capitalists, now investors are throwing money at used-clothing marketplaces. While there might be plenty of Lululemon flippers, they’re meant for regular people who want to sell their old clothes quickly and easily. The catch: they might lout on some money on thee deal.
The marketplaces offer varying levels of help and automation and market niches, and eventually the Old Clothes Wars will end and a few sites will emerge victorious. What they have in common is that they’re filling a gap in both the used-stuff market and the fashion market.
Because of the variety of sizes, colors, and styles, standard e-commerce marketing doesn’t work so well, especially when inventory coming from sellers can be erratic.
Why Is Silicon Valley Pouring Millions of Dollars Into Old Clothes? [Bloomberg]
IKEA MonkeySriracha meats
IKEA MonkeyI remember this video game!
As a child, video games were my main pastime. There were few things that my younger nerd enjoyed more than a journey into a virtual world that was as vivid as my imagination would come to be. I wasn't lonely; I had many friends with whom I played at school and occasionally in the street, but, for the most part, the non-educational hours of the day were me time with my consoles.
For some reason, however, that had to involve deflecting the nagging of family, whose constant urging me to play outside suggested that our house stood in the middle of fucking Disney World. Sonic didn't pester me like that. The only way he would ever judge me was tapping his foot impatiently while I stopped playing to get more juice. All Mario ever had to say was "wa-hoo!" as we leapt into another adventure, never, "It's a lovely day outside, get off the computer." They understood me.
My mother then—perhaps reluctantly—bought me a game for my birthday, a recommendation from her friend's son. Little did I know he was a long-haired, dope-smoking recluse, and death metal aficionado. I hasten to add that I have nothing against such types—they're just not necessarily ideal role models for childhood recreation. Considering my interest in sea life and a vague ambition of becoming a marine biologist (it didn't materialize in later life—if I could be snorkeling for a living, I wouldn't be sitting here writing), she took his advice and purchased a copy of Ecco the Dolphin for the SEGA Mega Drive. It was to be one of the most memorable games I would play in my life.
"You're a wee dolphin," she offered as I was handed the box and surveyed the cover art. "You swim around in the sea with the fish. It will be just like the aquarium."
The calm before the storm
I excitedly popped in the cartridge and, within moments, was at the title screen. Games had next to no loading times back then, so no sooner had my mom closed the door on her way out than I started the first level. I got a feel for the controls and, before long, was merrily darting around Home Bay, talking to my dolphin chums via sonar and leaping out of the water like I didn't have a care in the world. One huge jump, however, would prove to be disastrous. Breaching a certain height triggered a violent hurricane that instantly sucked all of the wildlife out of the sea and into the sky with a frightening cacophony. I stared in disbelief as I was suddenly alone in the water, and a strange, mournful tune filtered in. If anything, the game was starting as it meant to go on.
Two things happened recently to inspire this tale of seafaring woe. No sooner had I found the eldritch abomination of an original cartridge in a cellar-clearing spree than Ecco's creator Ed Annunziata followed me on Twitter. While I wait for a 140-character apology to restore the fractured pieces of my childhood, I'll share with you some of the aspects of this game that terrified me after that initial introduction.
Having also seen it added to the Nintendo eShop (in 3D no less—like I want to be closer to what's happening), perhaps I can dissuade—or at least mentally prepare—a generation who didn't experience Ecco the first time around. Normally, I would feel a bit crazy and exposed talking about a 16bit game in this way but, judging by YouTube comments and replies to a recent Facebook post I made on this very matter, it would seem that I'm not alone. Just like Ecco wasn't...
I realize that I've been fairly cagey in detailing these horrors, so let's dive in, if you'll pardon the expression. Introductory levels see you face a huge octopus whose arms you need to slowly pass or face a sting, as well as the odd easily avoided shark. Those I can live with. The rest, I still struggle to.
The first major jump comes at a quarter of the way through the game in the Open Ocean level. The urgency with which it starts, by dropping Ecco from the sky (wait, what?) into the Pacific (although it isn't so specific) as screeching, soaring music mercilessly floods out. It's the most linear course in the game, with no walls or floor, just more sharks than a dodgy pool house, all of whom are intent on lining their stomachs with our cetacean pal. Surviving that prime example of the fight-or-flight response eventually leads you to the Big Blue, a monolithic whale and perhaps the biggest piece of sprite artwork to grace a 90s console. He was, thank fuck, a friendly creature, but the way he appeared from the vast nothingness of the Arctic waters with a low, echoing drone was enough to guarantee that the controller hadn't even hit the floor by the time I was out of the room.
After that came the Asterite. He wasn't particularly fearsome, but he did set the precedent for the game being weird on a Gary Busey level. A DNA double helix of orbs, he was an undiscovered life-form and a being of higher consciousness that would guide Ecco in his quest. He sends us to the ruins of Atlantis, where things take a notable leap from realism. Learning of aliens that feed upon the planet every five hundred years and using a time machine built by the humans to accordingly flee, Ecco warps back millions of years into the past. Terrific, dinosaurs ahoy.
Ironically, this is the safest part of the stage.
Here's a little scenario that would often happen in the prehistoric arc. Having been dropped into the water by a pterodactyl that helps you navigate the Carboniferous landscape, you decide to swim slowly as the path guides you downwards into dark caverns. Suddenly, a trilobite that can inexplicably swim faster than a dolphin gives chase from nowhere and attacks relentlessly, Ecco doing that piercing screech like he's being electrocuted every time. You're soon forced to reconsider your wary approach to exploration and dash off, invariably swimming right into the titanium jaws of a Dunkleosteus, a monstrous, thankfully now-extinct armored fish. All of this while you're technically drowning.
Article continues after the video below
Related: Watch VICE's documentary on LARPing
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Returning through time to the first level of our Lovecraftian childhood adventure, Ecco follows his pod into the intergalactic tube that claimed half of the ocean and flies across the universe into some kind of industrial space station. At this point, everything is entirely fucking mental. The penultimate level is a lurching, biomechanical hell in which one wrong turn will compress Ecco into an economy brand of canned tuna in a flash of scarlet red, forcing you to start from the beginning. Couple that with the fact there are mini-Cthulhus coming at you from all angles, and it's perhaps one of the most frustrating levels in gaming history—a deliberate decision on the creator's part to increase the likelihood of purchases over weekend rentals. The final boss, Vortex Queen, is potent nightmare fuel; a gargantuan, disembodied H.R. Giger Alien-like head against a backdrop of complete blackness. Being sucked into her gaping, razor-lined void of a mouth will send you back to the previous stage, ensuring that if the fear didn't get to you, the anger would.
FUCK THIS. DONE.
It's difficult to pinpoint exactly what makes Ecco such an unsettling experience. It's as much these things happening as it is the instilled sense that they could happen at any moment. Music is an obvious factor: the throbbing bass lines that beat like a heart as you search frantically for air pockets; the whimpers over the plaintive, prehistoric themes; the idiosyncratic ambience and playful melodies that undermined your struggle. These Pink Floydian soundscapes create a perpetual sense of mystery and, subsequently, a merciless sonic backdrop against which an enemy could spring at you from thin H2O. Strangely, for levels so full of life, there's a sense of loneliness. The underwater world is unknown to us to begin with but, here, it's further turned into a barren dystopia, with in-game clues suggesting humans no longer inhabit the planet and the initial high degree of realism conjuring up a palpable feeling of abandonment.
The sharks get sexier around the halfway point.
I've shot and slashed my fair share of monsters—I finished ZombiU with few repercussions, I can just about play Resident Evil 4 with the lights off, and closing the bedroom door firmly keeps Five Nights At Freddy's out of my dreams. Why does Ecco scare me more than most straight-up horror games? I think it's ultimately down to context. You go into a survival shoot 'em up knowing that you'll be spending the majority of your time feeling jolts in your viscera as you fight for your life against whatever unholiness may come. Abandoned mansions, claps of thunder, and bumps in the night are created with the intention of filling underwear. You go into a relatively realistic game about a dolphin, however, with expectations of flipping joviality, interaction with other marine creatures, and perhaps the odd-run in with a shark at most.
Related on Munchies: Sharks Could Be the Future of the Seafood Industry
Looking at it retrospectively only serves to add to the wonder of what now-defunct developers Novotrade achieved. Fitting so much atmosphere and so many disparate elements into a cartridge game in 1992 is, in a way, a much more impressive feat than giving a Hollywood shine and deliberate scares to the horror games of today. The anachronistic, subtle discomfort plays on the mind more and has undoubtedly led to a demographic of 90s kids who never learned to swim. A 1994 sequel, The Tides of Time, didn't so much take the sci-fi baton as bludgeon the original to death with it and run off with its wallet, but it's the pseudo-realism of the first that keeps the crown on its head.
I feel that I might be coming down with an acute case of Stockholm Syndrome as, even after all of this, I can't begrudge Ecco the title of something of a masterpiece. Atmosphere is woven into every pixel of its being, and it rarely lets up. It's a completely immersive game and, in its own way, unlike any other I've ever played. Despite a fair portion of the memories it holds being unpleasant (to the extent that I still do a semi-conscious psych-up every time I see the glistening SEGA logo upon starting), that's pretty special.
Or perhaps mom knew all along, and it was a ploy to scare me into getting some fresh air.
Follow Andy on Twitter.
IKEA Monkeywat
IKEA MonkeyThis guy is a total idiot, politically. He could be a great surgeon, but he says the most insane, stupid, insipid things.
IKEA MonkeyYikes
The sun setting over Dubai. Photo via The_Dead_Pixel
There's an old Jon Stewart stand-up bit about spending time in Arizona during the height of summer, and the cooling nozzles built into some buildings there that go off intermittently to spray a cooling mist on the unlucky bastards stuck outside in the desert heat. Steam rises from the streets as the water hits them, and Stewart wonders—while walking through the hot, red, sun-burnt city during the blistering midday heat—if he's even still on planet earth. How do people live here?, he asks himself.
Well, soon, at least in some cities on the Persian Gulf, people may not be able to anymore. A new study released Monday in the journal Nature Climate Change suggests that some cities there will "exceed a threshold for human adaptability," possibly by as early as 2100. They will, as the Washington Post succinctly put it, "literally be too hot for human survival."
Many metropolises in the region—Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Doha, and, perhaps most distressingly, the Saudi holy city of Mecca—could be affected. Critically, they might exceed a "wet bulb" temperature—a measure of actual air temp and the moisture the air contains—of 95 degrees Fahrenheit during summer months, or a heat index of 170, according to the authors of the study. That's important, because when "wet bulb" temps rise to that extent, the body can lose the ability to cool itself by getting rid of excess heat via sweat, or even by seeking shade. At these temps, the body takes on the excess heat instead of shedding it, and those outside risk heat stroke, hyperthermia, and, ultimately, death.
The report was authored by a pair of scientists—Jeremy Pal and Elfatih A. B. Eltahir, from Loyola Marymount University and Massachusetts Institute of Technology, respectively—who write, "Our results expose a regional hotspot where climate change, in the absence of significant mitigation, is likely to severely impact human habitability in the future."
The study projects "an ensemble of high-resolution regional climate model simulations that extremes of wet-bulb temperature in the region around the Arabian Gulf are likely to approach and exceed this critical threshold under the business-as-usual scenario of future greenhouse gas concentrations." That's a science-y way of saying unless we curb carbon emissions soon, before too long the sun in the Persian Gulf will be hot enough to actually murder you.
Most concerning to Pal and Eltahir are the potential ramifications for the Hajj, the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca undertaken by millions each year.
"This necessary outdoor Muslim ritual is likely to become hazardous to human health, especially for the many elderly pilgrims, when the Hajj occurs during the boreal summer."
The Persian Gulf is built for extreme heat. It regularly has clear skies, and sports relatively shallow seas, which absorb heat and release water vapor that retains heat near the ground. This past summer Bandar Mahshahr in Iran came close to experiencing a wet-bulb temp of 95 F, falling just short at 94.28—an anomaly Pal and Eltahir's study shows could soon become the norm.
Luckily, as the quote from the report above illustrates, these possibly lethal temperatures predicted in the Persian Gulf will only occur if we continue "business as usual," and steps aren't taken to curb carbon emissions. Countries like India have pledged to reduce their carbon emissions 33 to 35 percent by 2030, and President Obama has urged large US companies to commit to cutting emissions, and has also announced historic carbon pollution standards for power plants. With the annual United Nations Climate Change Conference scheduled to begin on November 30 in Paris with the stated objective of achieving a "legally binding and universal agreement on climate" from all nations, there may still be some hope for future generations to stand outside in Dubai without dying.
Follow Brian on Twitter.
IKEA MonkeyIs Gamergate still a thing?
A South by Southwest Interactive panel scheduled for March 2016 called “Level Up: Overcoming Harassment in Games” has been canceled, with the panelists saying they were told by SXSW organizers it was due to “numerous threats of violence.” A panel featuring pro-Gamergate speakers has also disappeared from the schedule. SXSW has released a statement confirming both events were canceled.
IKEA MonkeyIts the quiet car FOR A REASON
IKEA MonkeyBobby Jindal's still running for president?
Bobby Jindal, in his 3,574th last-ditch bid for attention, briefly threatened to walk away from Wednesday’s second-tier who-cares smelly losers debate on CNBC, which many suspect may not even be a real cable network. Despite his campaign having no money and no support, Jindal’s people, of whom he still has some, contended that if the
The post Bobby Jindal Never Wanted To Be In Your Stupid Kids’ Table Debate, May Just Stay Home appeared first on Wonkette.
In July 2014, my husband Daniel, our two young boys, and I took a full U-Haul from Cleveland, TN to Richmond, VA for Daniel’s new job as a teacher at a Christian private school. The move had pushed us past broke, into donations from relatives, but we were eager nonetheless. After many years, my husband had finally figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He was thrilled for the opportunity to become a teacher, and I—coming off of a year nursing my youngest son, who would not take bottles—was excited to look for work in a new town.
IKEA MonkeyToday in (sad) bear news
After 21 years of cohabiting peacefully, Florida’s residents have turned on their most majestic of neighbors: the bears.
IKEA MonkeyThis guy has crazy eyes
After his last public meltdown, Christian vlogger Sam Rader announced that he was taking a “small break” from YouTube. That break, it appears, is over.
IKEA MonkeyOHH YEAAAAH
IKEA MonkeyThe government did something right??
Currently, making a 15-minute phone call from jail might cost you or the person you’re calling as much as $17. Those dollars add up: make three calls per week and you’re paying over $2600 per year just to talk to your loved ones. This week, the FCC ruled to put a stop to the price gouging.
IKEA MonkeyGOOD
The Associated Press is reporting that a maker of compounded drugs will begin selling Daraprim, whose price was famously jacked up to $750 per pill by one of history’s greatest assholes , for the whopping price of $0.99 per pill.
IKEA MonkeyJust let the Cubs win ONCE so we can stop with the curse nonsense
USA TODAY Sports
It’s well-known that the Chicago Cubs have not won the World Series since 1908, nor have even been to one since 1945. The streak will continue for at least another year after the New York Mets finished them off by sweeping the NLCS after winning 8-3 on Wednesday night at Wrigley Field.
Some Cubs fans have also had a long-running history of blaming their team’s century-old losing streak on such things as curses, witchcraft, black magic, and spells. And goblins. They’ve blamed goblins, right? You can’t trust a goblin, in my opinion.
The team’s main curse has been called the billy goat curse, or if you’d prefer, its lesser-known name, the “Curse of Murphy.”
The Curse of Murphy began in 1945, when Billy Sianis, who was owner of Chicago’s Billy Goat Tavern, was asked to leave a World Series game at Wrigley Field after bringing his pet goat, named Murphy. This prompted him to send a telegram to [Cubs’ owner] Philip Wrigley, which read, “You are going to lose this World Series and you are never going to win another World Series again.”
Granted, that seems ridiculous. (Also, who brings a billy goat to a baseball game?) If Twitter had been around back then, you can bet there’d be debates about whether or not he should have been allowed to do this, and everyone who cared would argue their point of view passionately, for some reason. Then again, Sianis’ “curse” is now 70 years strong and counting.
Since that time, people have begun to take notice that the name “Murphy” has popped up almost every time the Cubs have got close to reaching a World Series. This year, we can add another name to that list: Daniel Murphy.
Hmm… pic.twitter.com/X0Nq8FGF6Z
— Jared Diamond (@jareddiamond) October 17, 2015
Murphy went 4-5 on Wednesday night, finishing the series with a .512 batting average, while slugging an amazing 1.294 (a Major League record) en-route to winning the series MVP. He has also now homered in six-straight postseason games, also a record.
The curse itself is completely nonsensical, but you have to admit, it has become quite the coincidence. A childish and silly coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless.