"In other news, once the detector is up and running, researchers are planning to send Hillary Clinton's new book through and see if even the remotest possibility of truth is found in it."
Goedel's Incompleteness Theorem proves that we will never be able to completely understand the universe.
So what's the point? </sarcasm>
I'll be back later to read the comments of the offended.
"In other news, once the detector is up and running, researchers are planning to send Hillary Clinton's new book through and see if even the remotest possibility of truth is found in it."
A common misconception. The Higgs mechanism gives the fundamental particles (such as quarks and electrons) their masses, but most of the mass we see comprises protons and neutrons, whose mass arises primarily from quantum chromodynamics. (Dark matter, which dominates over the "baryonic" matter I mentioned, may or may not get its mass from the Higgs mechanism.)
"The boson was nicknamed the “God particle” by the Nobel laureate Leon Lederman for its centrality to the cosmos. Although it will be so small that its presence can only be calculated, not seen...
Ahhh. I see.
So our "maxims of modern physics" (much like our 'understanding' of Evolution) rely upon our having faith in something which not only have we never proven the existence of, but even once found cannot be seen. Hmmm....
Yeah, that Science stuff sure is an "end all, be all" for people who choose not to rely on Faith alone, huh? Way too funny.
;-/
This is what happened. On the night that the worst heat wave in northern New England history finally broke-the night of July 19-the entire western Maine region was lashed with the most vicious thunderstorms I have ever seen.
We lived on Long Lake, and we saw the first of the storms beating its way across the water toward us just before dark. For an hour before, the air had been utterly still. The American flag that my father put up on our boathouse in 1936 lay limp against its pole. Not even its hem fluttered. The heat was like a solid thing, and it seemed as deep as sullen quarry-water.
The air began to move, jerkily at first, lifting the flag and then dropping it again. it began to freshen and grew steady, first cooling the perspiration on our bodies and then seeming to freeze it.
That was when I saw the silver veil rolling across the lake. It blotted out Harrison in seconds and then came straight at us. The powerboats had vacated the scene.
I went downstairs again. All three of us slept together in the guest bed, Billy between Steff and me. I had a dream that I saw God walking across Harrison on the far side of the lake, a God so gigantic that above his waist He was lost in a clear blue sky. In the dream I could hear the rending crack and splinter of breaking trees as God stamped the woods into the shape of His footsteps. He was circling the lake, coming toward the Bridgton side, toward us, and all the houses and cottages and summer places were bursting into purple-white flame like lightning, and soon the smoke covered everything. The smoke covered everything like a Mist.
That was the direction that funny fogbank had come from. And it was the direction Shaymore (pronounced Shammore by the locals) lay in. Shaymore was where the Arrowhead Project was.
That was old Bill Giosti's theory about the so-called Black Spring: the Arrowhead Project. In the western part of Shaymore, not far from where the town borders on Stoneham, there was a small government preserve surrounded with wire. There were sentries and closed circuit television cameras and God knew what else. Or so I had heard; I'd never actually seen it, although the Old Shaymore Road runs along the eastern side of the government land for a mile or so.
No one knew for sure where the name Arrowhead Project came from and no one could tell you for one hundred percent sure that that really was the name of the project-if there was a project. Bill Giosti said there was, but when you asked him how and where he came by his information, he got vague. His niece, he said, worked for the Continental Phone Company, and she had heard things. It got like that. "Atomic things," Bill said that day, leaning in the Scout's window and blowing a healthy draught of Pabst into my face. "That's what they're fooling around with up there. Shooting atoms into the air and all that."
A tentacle came over the far lip of the concrete loading platform and grabbed Norm around the calf. My mouth dropped wide open. Ollie made a very short glottal sound of surprise - uk! The tentacle tapered from a thickness of a foot-the size of a grass snake-at the point where it had wrapped itself around Norm's lower leg to a thickness of maybe four or five feet where it disappeared into the mist. It was slate gray on top, shading to a fleshy pink underneath. And there were rows of suckers on the underside. They were moving and writhing like hundreds of small, puckering mouths.
Excerpts from The Mist, a Stephen King story.
2 Timothy 3:7
Ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.
This is a topic greatly discussed in this book I had to read for AP Physics back in high school. Pretty interesting if you're into particle physics...which I wasn't...