November 5, 2013
In October 2012, a Duke University biologist named a newly discovered genus of ferns after Lady Gaga. Then, in December, Brazilian scientists named a new bee species Euglossa bazinga, after a catch phrase from a TV show.
“The specific epithet [bazinga] honors the clever, funny, captivating “nerd” character Sheldon Cooper, brilliantly portrayed by the North American actor James Joseph “Jim” Parsons on the CBS TV show ‘The Big Bang Theory,’” they wrote [PDF]. Scientists weren’t done honoring dear old Sheldon: This past August, he also got a new species of jellyfish, Bazinga rieki, and was previously heralded with an asteroid.
These organisms and astronomical entities are far from the first to be given cute pop culture-inspired names. The tradition goes back at least a few decades, with bacteria named after plot elements from Star Wars, a spider named for Frank Zappa and a beetle named after Roy Orbison.
All of which makes an observer of science wonder: Why do we keep naming species after figures from movies, music and TV shows?
“Mostly, when you publish research about termite gut microbes, you don’t get much interest—even most of the people in the field don’t really give a crap,” says David Roy Smith, a scientist at University of Western Ontario who studies these and other types of microorganisms for a living. Recently, though, he saw firsthand that this doesn’t always have to be the case: His colleagues discovered two new species of protists that lived inside termite guts and helped them digest wood, and the group named them Cthulhu macrofasciculumque and Cthylla microfasciculumque, after the mythical creature Chtulhu, created by influential science fiction writer H.P. Lovecraft.
“I remember Erick James, who was the lead author on the study, telling us that he’d named it something cool right before we submitted it, but we didn’t really pay him much attention,” Smith says. “Then, afterwards, day after day, he kept coming into the lab telling us he’d seen an article on the species on one site, then another. By the second week, we were getting phone calls from the Los Angeles Times.” Eventually, James was invited to present work on the protists at an annual conference of H.P. Lovecraft fans, and a search for Cthulhu macrofasciculumque now yields nearly 3,000 results.
The episode prompted Smith to take silly scientific names seriously for the first time—so much so that he wrote an article about the phenomenon [PDF] in the journal BioScience last month. For him, a scientist’s incentive in giving a new discovery this sort of name is obvious. “Science is a competitive field, if you can get your work out there, it’s only going to help you,” he says. Mainstream press attention for an esoteric scientific discovery, he feels, can also garner increased citations from specialists in the field: A microbe researcher is likely to notice a Cthulhu headline on a popular news site, then think of it when she’s writing her next paper.
But is naming species after sci-fi villains and TV catch phrases good for science as a whole? Smith argues that it is. “Scientists are perceived to be serious and stiff,” he says. “When you put some entertainment and fun into your work, the general public gets a kick out of it, and appreciates it a little more.” In an age when public funding for science is drying up, garnering every bit of support can make a difference in the long-term.
There are critics who take issue with the idea, though. It’s easy to imagine, for instance, that the vast majority of the people who shared articles about Lady Gaga’s fern focused mostly on the pop star, rather than the botanical discovery.
Moreover, species names are forever. “The media interest will subside, but the name Cthulhu will stay and plague the biologists who deal with this organism, tomorrow and 200 years from now. It’s difficult to spell and pronounce and utterly mysterious in meaning for people who don’t know Lovecraft,” Juan Saldarriaga, a research fellow at the University of British Columbia, told Smith for his BioScience article. “And for what? People saw the name on their Twitter account, smiled, said ‘Cool,’ and then went on with their lives.”
For his part, Smith feels that all species names inspired by pop culture are not created equal. The Cthulhu microbe, for example, is named after a legendary character with legions of fans nearly a century after its creation; moreover, the protist itself, with a tentacle-like head and movements resembling an octopus, calls to mind Lovecraft’s original Cthulhu character. This is a far cry from, say, a bee, jellyfish and asteroid all named for a catch phrase from a current (and likely to be eventually forgotten) primetime sitcom. “You can do it tactfully, and artfully,” Smith says. “Other times, people might be reaching, and just desperately want to give something a popular name.”
It’s also worth remembering one of the earliest instances of naming a discovery after heroes from contemporary culture: the planets, which the ancient Greeks named after their gods–for example, the gods of war and love. The planets were later rebranded by the Romans—and nowadays, the average person might have no idea that Mars and Venus were gods in the first place—but their names live on.
This blogger’s opinion? Long live Cthulhu.
September 17, 2013
“Call me Migaloo,” would start the memoir of the most famous white humpback whale out there. He’s not quite from the pages of Moby Dick—Herman Melville’s white whale was a sperm whale and not entirely white—but Migaloo still makes quite a splash when he lifts his head or tail above the waves.
First spotted in 1991, he’s been seen more than 50 times since, including a few times around the Great Barrier Reef this summer. But the probable-but-unconfirmed spotting by Jenny Dean, a Queensland, Australia native, takes the cake. A few weeks ago, she captured Migaloo breaching in a spectacular photo, showcasing the whale’s bright whiteness that nearly looks photoshopped.
But what’s the deal with Migaloo and white whales? Let us ocean enthusiasts from the Smithsonian Ocean Portal answer your questions.
What do we know about Migaloo?
In the past 22 years since whale watchers first spotted the exceedingly social Migaloo—so-called after the Aboriginal word for “white fella”—scientists have been able to learn a bit about him. They think he was around 3-5 years old when first spotted, which makes him 25-27 now. Barring an unfortunate accident, he may have another 50 years ahead of him, although scientists don’t know for sure how long humpback whales live because they don’t have teeth—like tree rings, analyzing concentric layers in teeth is a common way to measure age in mammals.
They know he’s a male from his song. While both male and female humpback whales produce sound, only males sing the melodic humpback songs that long ago captured our imaginations. In 1998, researchers first recorded Migaloo singing—and his knack for melody gave it away.
His maleness was further confirmed by DNA after researchers from Lismore, Australia’s Southern Cross University, collected skin samples from Migaloo in 2004.
Are white humpbacks rare?
As far as we know, exceedingly so. Besides Migaloo, there are three other known white humpbacks. Willow lives up in the Arctic and was spotted along the coast of Norway in 2012. Meanwhile, Bahloo lurks in Migaloo’s territory in the Great Barrier reef, first seen in 2008. But these two are not as gregarious as Migaloo, rarely showing their faces.
The other known white humpback is a calf first seen swimming around the Great Barrier Reef in 2011. Unofficially named “Migaloo, Jr.,” the calf is not known to be the child of Migaloo—in fact, the two whales may not even be related. If a DNA sample from the calf is obtained someday, they could compare it with Migaloo’s genetic profile to find out.
There probably are more white whales out there, however. These are just the ones that have surfaced near people with cameras. Two years ago, an unknown white whale washed up on a beach, and if you dig around on the web, you can find even more.
How do we know these aren’t the same white whale?
In the case of Migaloo, Jr., it’s pretty obvious: he’s much smaller than the Migaloo Australians are so familiar with.
Bahloo and Migaloo hang out in the same area and, because Bahloo rarely shows its face, you could argue that the two are actually the same whale. But photos taken in 2010 showed a few black spots on Bahloo’s head and tail, differentiating it from Migaloo. Willow also has black patterns on the underside of its tail, making Migaloo the only documented all-white whale. These patterns and markings are distinct for each whale, white or otherwise, allowing researchers to track the creatures through detailed observations.
Why is he white anyway?
Many articles describe Migaloo and the other white whales as albino. But making that diagnosis is easier said than done.
Albinism is a genetic disorder in which the protein tyrosinase, which helps to produce the pigment melanin, is completely absent or damaged by a variety of possible mutations. Fully albino animals and people have no melanin whatsoever; they are white or pink from head to toe, including their eyes.
Willow and Bahloo are not albino: they have black spots or patches on their bodies. It’s more likely that they have leucism, a condition where all pigment types are lost in patches of cells.
Even though Migaloo is all white, scientists are skeptical that he is albino because he doesn’t have red or pink eyes—like other humpbacks, he has brown eyes. Instead, he’s considered the more conservative “hypo-pigmented,” describing a generic loss of skin color. It’s also possible that Migaloo is leucistic.
The Southern Cross University researchers could analyze his DNA for different genetic variants associated with pigment disorders to pinpoint the exact form. But there are many variants and, as Megan Anderson, who originally tested Migaloo’s DNA, said in a press release, “It’s going to be a long and complex process to test for albinism in this humpback whale as it has not ever been done before.”
And what about the calf? There isn’t enough known about it to be sure.
Are there other white whales that aren’t humpbacks?
Yes! These skin disorders are not exclusive to humpbacks. There have been several other wild spottings of white whales recently.
A white right whale calf (incorrectly described as albino) was filmed last year off the coast of Chile by a group of surfers. Last April, researchers spotted a white killer whale off the coast of Alaska, and they named it “Iceberg.” And a truly albino pink dolphin has been seen around Florida and the Gulf of Mexico repeatedly over the years.
In fact, whales aren’t the only creatures that can lack pigment. A plethora of other all-white examples—such as koalas, penguins, and gorillas—can be found throughout the animal kingdom.
September 12, 2013
For the left-handed people of the world, life isn’t easy. Throughout much of history, massive stigmas attached to left-handedness meant they were singled out as everything from unclean to witches. In Medieval times, writing with your left-hand was a surefire way to be accused of being possessed by the devil; after all, the devil himself was thought to be a lefty. The world has gotten progressively more accepting of left-handed folk, but there are still some undeniable bummers associated with a left-handed proclivity: desks and spiral notebooks pose a constant battle, scissors are all but impossible to use and–according to some studies–life-expectancy might be lower than for right-handed people.
What makes humanity’s bias against lefties all the more unfair
is that left-handed people are born that way. In fact, scientists have speculated for years that a single gene could control a left-right preference in humans. Unfortunately, they just couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the gene might lie.
Now, in a paper published today in PLOS Genetics a group of researchers have identified a network of genes that relate to handedness in humans. What’s more, they’ve linked this preference to the development of asymmetry in the body and the brain.
In previous studies, the researchers observed that patients with dyslexia exhibited a correlation between the gene PCSK6 and handedness. Because every gene has two copies (known as alleles), every gene has two chances for mutation; what the researches found was that dyslexic patients with more variance in PCSK6–meaning that one or both of their PSCK6 alleles had mutated–were more likely to be right-handed.
The research team found this especially interesting, because they knew that PCSK6 was a gene directly associated with the development of left-right asymmetry in the body. They weren’t sure why this would present itself only in dyslexic patients, as dyslexia and handedness are not related. So the team expanded the study to include more than 2,600 people who don’t have dyslexia.
The study found that PCSK6 didn’t work alone in affecting handedness in the general population. Other genes, also responsible for creating left-right asymmetry in the body, were strongly associated with handedness. Like PCSK6, the effect that these genes have on handedness depends on how many mutations the alleles undergo. Each gene has the potential for mutation–the more mutations a person has in any one direction (toward right handedness or left handedness) the more likely they are to use that hand as their dominant hand, or so the researchers speculate.
The hypothesis is a logical response to a key question: If handedness is genetic and if
right-handedness is such a dominant trait, why hasn’t left-handedness been forced out of the genetic pool? In reality, the research suggests that handedness could be more subtle than simple “dominant” or “recessive” traits–a whole host of genes might play significant roles.
What’s especially exciting is that these genes all relate to the development of left-right asymmetry in the body and brain, creating a strong case for correlation between the development of this symmetry and the development of handedness. Disrupting any of these genes could lead to serious physical asymmetry, like situs inversus, a condition where the body’s organs are reversed (heart on the right side of the body, for example). In mice, the disruption of PCSK6 resulted in serious abnormal positioning of organs in their bodies.
If physical asymmetry is related to handedness, then people with situs inversus should favor one hand more often than what you’d find in the general population. Studies show that this isn’t the case–individuals with this condition mirror the general population’s split in handedness–leading the researchers to postulate that while these genes certainly influence handedness, there might be other mechanisms in the body that compensate for handedness in the event of major physiological asymmetries.
Other animals, such as polar bears or chimpanzees, also have handedness–chimpanzees have been known to prefer one hand to the other when using tools or looking for food, but the split within a population hangs around 50/50. Humans are the only species that show a truly distinct bias toward one hand or the other: a 90/10 right/left split throughout the population.
One predominant hypothesis for this bias relates to another distinct human trait: language ability. Language ability is split between the different hemispheres of the brain, much like handedness, which suggests that handedness became compartmentalized along with language ability, For most, the parts of the brain that govern language are are present in the left-side of the brain–these people tend to be
right-handed. The few that have language skills focused in the right side of the brain tend to be left-handed.
However, William Brandler, a PhD student at Oxford University and the paper’s lead author, isn’t convinced that this theory holds much stock, as correlations between language and handedness in research aren’t well established. Brandler is more interested in learning how the permutations and combinations of genetic mutations play into humans’ likelihood to be right-handed. “Through understanding the genetics of handedness, we might be able to understand how it evolved,” he says. “Once we have the full picture of all the genes involved, and how they interact with other genes, we might be able to understand how and why there is such a bias.”
And he’s confident that even if environmental factors (like the continued hatred of lefties by two-thirds of the world) place pressure on handedness, any
baseline bias still boils down to genetics. “People think it’s just an environmental thing, but you’ve got to think, why is there that initial bias in the first place, and why do you see that bias across all societies? Why aren’t there societies where you see a bias to the left?” Brandler asks. “There is a genetic component to handedness, hundreds of different genetic variants, and each one might push you one way or the other, and it’s the type of variance, along with the environment you’re in and the pressures acting on you, which affect your handedness.” But until a larger population can be tested–hundreds of thousands, by Brandler’s estimates–a full genetic map of what controls handedness and why our population isn’t evenly split between righties and lefties can’t be determined. “It’s going to take a bit of time before these materialize—but it will happen,” Brandler says. “There’s been a whole revolution in genetics such that, in a few years time, we’re really going to start to understand the genetic basis of complex traits.”
September 10, 2013
Rising gas prices and a dangerously low world panda population–what if someone told you that we soon could have one solution to both these problems? If it seems too good to be true, think again; scientists at Mississippi State University are conducting research on the feasibility of using pandas to help solve our biofuel woes, a step that could lead to a bump in conservation efforts and a drop in fuel expense. The secret to the solution? It’s all in the panda’s poop.
When it comes to biofuels, the market is dominated by one word: ethanol, a biofuel made from corn. Though ethanol is the most widely used biofuel, it isn’t necessarily touted as a perfect replacement for fossil fuels–in fact, the benefit of ethanol is been hotly debated since its creation.
The debate goes a little something like this: in order to fill the tank of an SUV with ethanol fuel, you need to use enough corn to feed a single person for an entire year. A 2012 paper published by the New England Complex Systems Institute cites ethanol as a reason for the increasing price of crops since 2005. And even environmental groups steer clear of ethanol, citing the massive amounts of fossil fuel needed to render corn a useable biofuel product and the propensity of companies to buy land in developing countries to grow the lucrative biofuel rather than food for local consumption.
Ashli Brown, a researcher at Mississippi State University, thinks she’s found the answer to this alternative fuel conundrum. By taking corn byproducts–the husks, the stems and cobs–ethanol could be created without dipping into the edible parts of corn, reducing the chance of a food shortage and price spike. The issue is that to break down these materials, which are extremely high in lignocellulose, or dry plant matter, a special pretreatment process is required. The process is extremely costly and not very time-efficient, using high temperatures, high pressures and acid to break down the dry plant matter before it can become ethanol. To circumvent this problem, Brown and other researchers have been looking for a natural solution–bacteria, which could help with the breakdown of the lignocellulose material.
Biofuel companies have been seeking a natural method to break down plant material for a while; so far, termites have been a favorite for chewing through the woody material. But it turns out there might be a better–and cuter–animal that can help produce biofuel
. The intestines of pandas are remarkably short, a physical attribute which means their intestines have come to contain bacteria with unusually potent enzymes for breaking down their woody diet of bamboo in a short amount of time.
“The time from eating to defecation is comparatively short in the panda, so their microbes have to be very efficient to get nutritional value out of the bamboo,” Brown, the researcher heading the work, said. “And efficiency is key when it comes to biofuel production—that’s why we focused on the microbes in the giant panda.”
The study began more than two years ago, when Brown and a team of researchers began looking at panda feces. In 2011, they identified these super-digesting microbes are present in panda feces, but they had yet to specify the type and amount of microbes present until now. Using the poop from two giant pandas–Ya Ya and Le Le in the Memphis Zoo–Brown and her team performed DNA sequencing on microbes in their samples, identifying more than 40 microbes in the panda feces that could be useful to the breakdown and creation of biofuels.
To grow these microbes on an industrial scale
, Brown believes that scientists could put the genes that produce those enzymes into yeasts--these yeasts could then be mass-produced and harvested for biofuel production. The process would go something like this: Large pits of corn husks, corn cobs, wood chips, and other forms of discarded fibrous material are covered with the genetically altered yeasts. As the microbes digest woody substances, they quickly turn it into sugar, which would then be allowed to ferment. Over time and after filtering out solids and any excess water, you would have ethanol, distilled from woody waste products.
Pandas aren’t the only animal that subsists on a grassy diet, but their physiology makes them a unique candidate for breaking down plant byproducts in a hyper-efficient way. Pandas have the same digestive track as any other bear; unlike cows or other herbivores, pandas don’t have an extra stomach where hard lignocellulostic material is pretreated before being digested. Instead, they have the intestinal system of a carnivore, and yet manage to extract enough nutrients from their herbaceous diet to survive.
“Because their retention time is very short—they’re constantly eating and they’re constantly pooping—in order to get the material for nutrition, they have to be really quick at breaking it down and extracting the sugars,” Brown explained. “Many microbes produce celluloses that breakdown lignocellulostic biomass, but it’s about how efficiently or how effectively they do it.” When it comes to a panda, Brown notes, their microbes are some of the most efficient scientists have seen at breaking down the woody material of a plant.
And Brown thinks that using pandas for their poop could lead to more than a greener economy: it could also lead to increased conservation for the animals, who have seen their numbers in the wild drop to a dangerous 1,600 (though there has been recent luck with breeding pandas in captivity, like the new baby panda at the National Zoo). “These studies also help us learn more about this endangered animal’s digestive system and the microbes that live in it, which is important because most of the diseases pandas get affect their guts,” said Brown.
Brown notes that if the panda becomes valuable to the market for more reasons than its incredibly adorable demeanor, it might spark greater steps toward conservation–a move that could be mutually beneficial to pandas and humans alike.”It’s amazing that here we have an endangered species that’s almost gone from the planet, yet there’s still so much we have yet to learn from it. That underscores the importance of saving endangered and threatened animals,” she said. “It makes us think—perhaps these endangered animals have beneficial outputs that we haven’t even thought about.”
August 28, 2013
If the phenomena of Star Trek, Area 51, Ancient Aliens, or War of the Worlds can be taken as anthropological clues, humanity is consumed with curiosity about the possibility of life beyond Earth. Do any of the 4,437 newly discovered extrasolar planets contain traces of life? What would these life forms look like? How would they function? If they came to Earth, would we share ET-esque embraces or would the visit be more a Battle Los Angeles style throw down?
Life outside of Earth has spawned endless interest, but less public interest seems to be given to how life on Earth began 3 to 4 billion years ago. But the two topics, it turns out, might be more connected than one would believe–in fact, it’s possible that life on Earth really began outside of Earth, on Mars.
At this year’s Goldschmidt conference in Florence, Steve Benner, a molecular biophysicist and biochemist at the Foundation for Applied Molecular Evolution will present this idea to an audience of geologists. He’s well aware that half the room will be adamantly against his idea. “People will probably throw things,” he laughs, hinting at a consciousness of how out-of-this-world his ideas sound. But there’s scientific basis for his assertion (PDF), a logical reason for why life maybe truly did begin on Mars.
Science holds a number of paradoxes: If there are an infinite number of stars in the sky, why is the night sky dark? How can light act as both a particle and a wave? If the French eat so much cheese and butter, why is the incidence of coronary disease in their country so low? The origins of life are no different; they, too, are dictated by two paradoxes: the tar paradox, and the water paradox. Both, according to Benner, make it difficult to explain the creation of life on Earth. But both, he also notes, can be solved by placing the creation of life on Mars.
The first, the tar paradox, is simple enough to understand. “If you put energy into organic material it turns to asphalt, not to life,” Benner explains. Without access to Darwinian evolution–that is, without organic molecules having the opportunity to reproduce and create offspring who themselves, mutations and all, are reproducible–organic matter that is bathed in energy (from sunlight or from geothermal heat) will turn into tar. Early Earth was full of organic materials–chains of carbon, hydrogen and nitrogen that are believed to be the building blocks of life. Given the tar paradox, these organic materials should have devolved into asphalt. “The question is, how is it possible that the organic materials on early Earth managed to leap from their asphaltic fate to something that had access to Darwinian evolution? Because once that happens–presumably–you’re off to the races, and then you can manage whatever environment you want,” Benner explains.
The second paradox is the so-called water paradox. The water paradox states that even though life needs water, if organic material could escape its asphaltic fate and move toward Darwinian evolution, you can’t assemble the necessary building blocks in a flood of water. The building blocks of life start with genetic polymers–the well-known player DNA and its less-famous but still very smart friend RNA. Experts agree that RNA was likely the first genetic polymer, partly because in the modern world, RNA plays such an important role in the manufacturing other organic compounds. “RNA is the key to the ribosome, which is what makes proteins. There’s almost no question that RNA, which is a molecule involved in catalysis, arose before proteins arose,” Benner explains. The difficulty is that for RNA to assemble into long strands–which is needed for genetics–you can’t have the assembly taking place in water. “Most people think that water is essential for life. Very few people understand how corrosive water is,” Benner says. For RNA, water is extremely corrosive–bonds cannot be made within water, preventing long-strands from forming.
However, Benner says that these paradoxes can be resolved with the help of two very important groups of minerals
. The first are borate minerals. Borate minerals–which contain the element boron–prevent life’s building blocks from devolving into tar if incorporated into organic compounds. Boron, as an element, is seeking electrons to make itself stable. It finds these in oxygen, and together the oxygen and boron form the mineral borate. But if the oxygen boron finds is already bonded to carbohydrates, the carbohydrates linked with boron form a complex organic molecule dotted with borate that’s less resistant to decomposition.
The second group of minerals that come into play
involve those that contain molybdate, a compound that consists of molybdenum and oxygen. Molybdenum, more famous for its conspiratorial relation to the Douglas Adams classic A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy than for its other properties, is crucial, because it takes the carbohydrates that borate stabilized, bonds to them and catalyzes a reaction which rearranges them into ribose: the R in RNA.
Which brings us–however circuitously–back to Mars. Both borate and molybdate are scarce and would have been especially scarce on early Earth. The molybdenum in molybdate is
highly oxidized, meaning that it needs electrons from oxygen or other readily available negatively charged ions to achieve stability. But early Earth was too oxygen-scarce to have readily created molybdate. Plus, returning to the water paradox, early Earth was quite literally a water world–with land making up only two to three percent of its surface. Borates are soluble in water–if early Earth was a flooded planet, as scientists believe, it would have been difficult for an already scarce element now diluted in a huge ocean to find ephemeral organic molecules to bond with. Moreover, Earth’s status as a water-logged planet makes it difficult for RNA to form, because that process can’t easily happen in water on its own.
These concepts become less of an issue on Mars, however. Though water was certainly present on Mars 3 to 4 billion years ago, it was never as abundant as it was on Earth, creating the possibility that Martian deserts–locations where borate and molybdate could concentrate–could have fostered the formation of long strands of RNA. Moreover, 4 billion years ago, Mars’ atmosphere contained much more oxygen than Earth’s. Further, recent analysis of a Martian meteorite confirms that boron was once present on Mars.
And, Benner believes, molybdate was there too. “It’s only when molybdenum becomes highly oxidized that it is able to influence how early life formed,”Benner explains. “Molybdate couldn’t have been available on Earth at the time life first began, because three billion years ago the surface of the Earth had very little oxygen, but Mars did.”
Benner believes that these factors imply that life originated on Mars, our closest neighbor in space equipped with all the right ingredients. But life wasn’t sustained there. “Of course Mars dried out. The process of drying was very important for life originating, but not sustaining,” Benner explains. Instead, a meteor would have to have hit Mars, projecting materials into space–and eventually those materials, including some building blocks of life, might have made it to Earth.
Would the sudden change in environment have been too harsh for the fledgling building blocks to survive
? Benner doesn’t think so. “Let’s say life starts on Mars, and becomes very happy in the Martian environment,” Benner explains. “A meteor comes to hit Mars, and the impact ejects rocks on which your predecessor is sitting. Then you land on Earth, and you discover that there is lots of water that you were treating as a scarce element. Will it find the environment adequate? It certainly appreciated the existence of enough water that it didn’t have to worry.”
So, sorry Lil Wayne, looks like it might be time to relinquish your claim to the fourth rock from the Sun. As Brenner notes, “The evidence seems to be building that we are actually all Martians.”