Chicago Boyz

What Are Chicago Boyz Readers Reading?

  •   Enter your email to be notified of new posts:
  •   Problem? Question?
  •   Contact Authors:

  • CB Twitter Feed
  • Blog Posts (RSS 2.0)
  • Blog Posts (Atom 0.3)
  • Incoming Links
  • Recent Comments

    • Loading...
  • Authors

  • Notable Discussions

  • Recent Posts

  • Blogroll

  • Categories

  • Archives

  • Ah yes, the entomology of war

    Posted by Charles Cameron on January 11th, 2011 (All posts by )

    [ in playful response to M. Fouche’s recent post here, Butterfly Effect ]

    Links: Chaos theoryNanoscience


    2 Responses to “Ah yes, the entomology of war”

    1. Joseph Fouche Says:

      Cool. This opens up the prospect of Chinese butterflies that can detect public servants merely by their cologne and flap their wings in such a way that they can, with precision, drop the hurricane directly on target. The only downside I can see is that do-gooders will inevitably complain if the hurricane causes collateral damage in taking out the target. The law of shifting human baselines means that even the most precise butterfly and precise hurricane will inevitably fall short of the Geneva Convention even when the precision of today’s butterfly and hurricanes is light years ahead of even where they were five years ago.

    2. Charles Cameron Says:

      Hi, M. Fouche:

      As WB Yeats might ask, How but in zig-zag wantonness?


      From his poem, Tom O’Roughley

      ‘Though logic-choppers rule the town,
      And every man and maid and boy
      Has marked a distant object down,
      An aimless joy is a pure joy,’
      Or so did Tom O’Roughley say
      That saw the surges running by.
      ‘And wisdom is a butterfly
      And not a gloomy bird of prey.

      ‘If little planned is little sinned
      But little need the grave distress.
      What’s dying but a second wind?
      How but in zig-zag wantonness
      Could trumpeter Michael be so brave?’
      Or something of that sort he said,
      ‘And if my dearest friend were dead
      I’d dance a measure on his grave.’