Canada, normally content to mull around earth connsidering it’s large and indefensible expanse of land, may be on the verge of entering the space age.

Yes, I know we have Canadian astronauts and the much-vaunted CANADARM. But we’re little more than cosmic hitchhikers, dependent on the fancy rockets and shuttles of more space-savvy nations. Perhaps no more. Look out, NASA, there may be a new kid on the block.

The feds are considering coughing up $45 million to help fund a commercial rocket pad on Cape Breton Island. All of a sudden, Louisbourg went from a historically interesting make-work project to the most kick-ass rocket watching spot in the whole country.

Additional funding for the project is coming from everyone’s favourite purveyor of fine missile systems, Lockheed Martin. Apparently, when Canada bought a bunch of airplanes from them (17 c-130J’s), they agreed to invest in ‘regional projects’.  From the CBC:

The project is headed by Chicago’s PlanetSpace Inc., which has a non-monetary agreement with NASA to work on commercial space projects. PlanetSpace has indicated that one of its goals is to send 2,000 tourists into space within the next five years, at a cost of at least $250,000 US a person.

So not only will we have a commercial rocket pad, but it will be a totally useless installation for putting rich twits into space. Hm. Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea, so long as we don’t bring them back.

But I ask you: once Canada has the ability to lauch things into orbit, can a Tim Horton’s on the International Space Station be far behind?

Canada: putting arms on other people’s spaceships since 1981.

If you like caffeine and literature, and have the poor fortune of living in Iran, then your life just got a little more inconvenient.

The Iranian government has decreed that bookstores operating coffee shops are committing an ‘illegal mixing of trades’. So, the coffee shops have got to go. From the Guardian:

Four bookshops in Tehran this week closed their coffee shops after receiving a 72-hour ultimatum from Amaken-e Omoomi, a state body governing the retail trade. The order has led to the closure of the cafe in one of the city’s best-known bookshops, Nashr-e Sales, which has hosted reading sessions by writers, including the Nobel prize-winning Turkish author, Orhan Pamuk, and become a popular meeting point for literary types. 

If I were a suspicious man, I would think that this was some attempt to prevent educated folks from getting together and expressing ideas. You know, like how living under a medieval theocracy kinda sucks. Those kinds of ideas are dangerous, and need to be suppressed.

Oh wait. I am a suspicious man, and that’s totally what’s happening. Yes, oppression takes another bold step into the quotidian for the Iranian people. They must be thrilled.

And just in case you thought this was all just some wacky misunderstanding, check this out:

The reformist newspaper, Etemad-e Melli, pointed out that Ahl-e Ghalam, a bookstore linked to the culture and Islamic guidance ministry, had been allowed to keep its cafe. “When we pointed this out to the authorities, their argument was that just because other people make a mistake doesn’t mean you have to repeat it,” one bookshop owner told the Guardian.”We are trying through our trade association to find a remedy.”

It’s not like you needed another reason to conclude that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his gang of fundamentalists are a bunch of thugs. But here you go.

Photo: Ahmadinejad says “Books and coffee? Never the twain shall meet”.

Scientists at the University of Florida have taken the brain cells of rats, put them together in a special electrode equipped dish, and taught them how to run a flight simulator. The brain-in-a-dish can even fly the US Air Force’s F-22 Raptor, making it just about the most dangerous thing ever to come out of a rat. With the possible exception of plague.

Apparently, whenever brain cells get together, they immediately start to form neural processes. Said scientist Thomas DeMarse:

“You see one extend a process, pull it back, extend it out – and it may do that a couple of times, just sampling who’s next to it, until over time the connectivity starts to establish itself…[The brain is] getting its network to the point where it’s a live computation device.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was describing the junior high dating scene. But rather than acne and awkward social interaction, DeMarse’s discovery could usher in an age of living computers. Which is simultaneously awesome and terrifying.

As for the rat brain-in-a-dish, I can see two possible outcomes. Either the world will shortly be ruled by rat-brained machines, or there will be a lot more F-22′s nosing around the garbage bags in my back alley.

Kneel before your new rodent overlords.

It’s starting to look a bit like ‘great mysteries…solved’ week here at Nunc Scio. The jury is still out on whether this is better than last week’s ’geekfest 2007′.

Nebkheperure Tutankhamun, boy-king, fan of gold furniture and darling of the Egyptology set, has always been a bit of a mystery. Since his fancypants tomb was discovered by Howard Carter in 1922, the young pharaoh has been a source of fascination. Who was he? How did he die? And how did he remember the correct spelling of his name? Thanks to modern tech, at least one of these questions has been (mostly) put to rest.

King Tut’s untimely demise wasn’t murder- it caused by an unfortunate chariot accident. Using CT scans, Egyptian scientists have discovered that Tutankhamun died from a gangrenous broken leg, just the kind of injury you get from flipping your chariot while hunting dangerous and/or delicious animals. He did not die, as was previously thought, from a blow to the head by a political rival. Which is actually pretty surprising since Egyptian royalty tended to off eachother with great zeal, a history of regicide matched only by the Parti Quebecois.

So, add the name of Tutankhamun to the list of famous people killed in automotive accidents. Dean, Pollock, Patton, Princess Grace, and now, King Tut. And since it happened in like 1331 BC, he practically invented it.

Remeber, kids: Tutankhamun says “Always Buckle Up”.

It floats. It’s twice the size of Texas. And it contains some 3.5 million tonnes of plastic.

Welcome to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Floating somewhere between San Franciso and Hawaii, the Garbage Patch is fed by everyday plastic refuse, wind, and ocean currents that trap the debris. It has been growing tenfold every decade since the 1950s.

Said Oceanographer Marcus Eriksen:

“With the winds blowing in and the currents in the gyre going circular, it’s the perfect environment for trapping. There’s nothing we can do about it now, except do no more harm.”

And by ‘no more harm’ he means ‘stop throwing out so much plastic, stupid’. Scientists estimate that the garbage patch will cost billions to clean up.

Here’s a thought: why clean it up at all? Let’s colonize the sucker. All I need is two ships, 150 stout colonists of virtue true, and some sundry tools and livestock. We will make Garbage Island our home. True, it is a hard (in both a tactile and experiential sense) land. A cruel land. But, by jove, it will be our land.

And fear not, reallanders. Continue to throw away your plastic bags and water bottles. We of Garbage Island will happily accept your trash. Every little piece of plastic means another chunk of farmland, another piece of our floating, garbagey empire.

Photo: The colonisation of Garbage Island. It will be like this, but with, you know, more garbage.

There’s nothing quite like the allure of an unsolved mystery.

Back in 1971, a Northwest Airlines 727 was hijacked by a man known simply as ‘D.B. Cooper’. He was polite and calm as he explained to the stewardess that he had a bomb, then demanded $200,000 and two parachutes. The plane flew to Seattle. Cooper received his money and released the passengers. The plane took off again. Somewhere over the mountainous terrain of Washington State, Cooper used the rear ‘airstairs’ (a unique feature of the 727) to skydive out of the plane and into legend. D.B. Cooper was never seen or heard from again. The case remains open, although many law enforcement officials believe Cooper pershed in the jump, and both his body and the money were lost to the elements.

Or, maybe not.

The upcoming issue of the New York Times Magazine  puts forward a new theory in the Cooper case. Over 1,000 people have been suspected of the crime over the years, and every one has been abandoned for one reason or another. But this new suspect- Kenneth Christiansen- seems to have a lot going for him. Christiansen was a paratrooper; he worked for Northwest Airlines; he settled in Washington State near the site of the hijacking and he shared D.B.’s predilection for cigarettes and bourbon.

Whether or not Christiansen is D.B. Cooper is, from a legal perspective anyway, moot. He died of cancer in 1994. But check out this cryptic remark he made to his brother while on his deathbed:

“There is something you should know, but I cannot tell you.”

Ominous. Of course, Christiansen was apparently gay, so he may have been trying to tell his brother about his sexual orientation. But it’s a lot more interesting to think he trying to reveal his identity as D.B. Cooper, but couldn’t quite find the courage.

In any event, the article is well worth a read. Who knows? Kenneth Christiansen could very well be the answer to the decades old riddle of D.B. Cooper.

Photo: A sketch artist’s impression of DB Cooper (left) and the real-life Kenneth Christiansen (right).

Check this craziness, high above the skies of Des Moines, Iowa:

This is called an ‘undular bore’, and it’s anything but boring. Now, atmospheric phenomena are not my forte, so I’ll turn this over to NASA:

 “Wow, that was a good one!” says atmospheric scientist Tim Coleman of the National Space Science and Technology Center (NSSTC) in Huntsville, Alabama. Coleman is an expert in atmospheric wave phenomena and he believes bores are more common and more important than previously thought.

But first, Iowa: “These waves were created by a cluster of thunderstorms approaching Des Moines from the west,” he explains. “At the time, a layer of cold, stable air was sitting on top of Des Moines. The approaching storms disturbed this air, creating a ripple akin to what we see when we toss a stone into a pond.”

Undular bores are a type of “gravity wave”—so called because gravity acts as the restoring force essential to wave motion. Analogy: “We’re all familiar with gravity waves caused by boats in water,” points out Coleman. “When a boat goes tearing across a lake, water in front of the boat is pushed upward. Gravity pulls the water back down again and this sets up a wave.”

Undular Bores may play a role in severe weather, amplifying tornadoes and triggering thunderstorms. That’s too bad, because they also look really neat.