Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Dandiana and Captain Asshole

I was delivering a sailboat from La Paz to San Diego, circa 1990, they were building the first high-rise hotels in Cabo San Lucas at the time, and there was still an anchorage in the inner harbor (now long gone.) It was fairly crowded that day, all sailboats, enjoying the party atmosphere, when a 75' all stainless steel power boat named Dandiana comes lumbering in on one engine. Fuck!

Several of us hailed them but apparently they weren't monitoring VHF, all trying to tell them it wouldn't swing with us, there wasn't room. The captain was oblivious, dropped his hook and within 5 minutes multiple boats had to fend off the shiny monster. 

We finally convinced the idiot he had to move, as we all shifted fenders to the side nearest him, but now neither engine would start.  This left us to manage the chaos as best we could for an hour and a half, as the tide changed directions, until vessel assist made it over. 

As if on cue a fresh breeze cropped up as they raised anchor, this boat had a mile of freeboard, his exit was anything but graceful.  It did enough damage to one boat to disrupt their plans. 

The engine problem: silicon in the fuel.

So Capt. Asshole, as he came to be called, was stuck in Cabo for 3 days, anchored in the outer harbor,  while repairs were made.  He managed to piss off the whole town just about, in that short time. 

The minute his fuel system was cleaned out, he was late for the open sea. He throttled up before his anchor was all the way on board, snagged hawser lines of two separate moorings, each with a hapless boat attached. Those two boats converged as he tried to power through.

Channel 16 was exploding, as usual he wasn't listening. Someone in a dingy got in front of him (barely moving at this point) and he throttled back but apparently left it in gear. All the displaced and stretched ground tackle pulled him backwards into the lines as they were trying to settle, both props caught them and wrapped up tight!
He had already burned his bridges with the local repair and supply people, so they used their chance to even the score, forced him to pay the ones he had stiffed, plus some exorbitant charges for divers to get him untangled. 

The night of lawlessness on channel 16 was pretty comical, he likely never heard any of it... properly it would've been humbling (but he'd have to give a damn for that to be the case.)

He left the harbor the next day, angry as hell, but with no one but himself to blame.  And as we watched him rumble away, everyone in Cabo was hoping that awful boat would sink in deep water.

Sunday, August 23, 2020

Reproductive Numerics (Math meets Sex and fucks it really hard)

Fertility clinics measure semen quality in terms of millions of spermatozoa's per milliliter. Good numbers are around 40-90 million, which means that 1 liter of jiz from a healthy, fertile man contains something on the order of 75 billion sperms. The typical human issue of semen is approximately 2 to 7 milliliters per ejaculation.

For the purpose of this theory we want a conservative male number, so let's say our conservative spudge factory makes it up to a production level of 15 million spermatozoa's per milliliter (15M spz/ml) by age 15, and produces consistently at this level until he's 40 (aka, for 25 years.) Let's further specify that he busts his nuts about 4 times a week, each shot yielding on average 3 ml of fluid.

(25 years * 200 ejaculations per year) * (3 ml * 15,000,000 spermatozoa's) = 225,000,000,000 lifetime sperm production. That's like 28 times the population of the entire earth! And it's much, much lower than real life, a typical male 40 years ago produced 10 times that at least... but for the purposes of this theory, it will be:

Male lifetime gamete production: 225,000,000,000.

Now for our hypothetical female subject, we want a very liberal estimate, so let's say super mom starts bleeding at 10 years of age, and ovulates until she is 60 -- 50 years. For round numbers let's say she produces 100 eggs per year, which would be 8 point something eggs each menstrual period. (In other words, 8 times as much as normal.)

100 eggs per year * 50 years = 5,000. In reality she could only possibly carry a small fraction of those eggs to term... but for the purposes of this theory, it will be:

Female lifetime gamete production: 5,000.

So, wimpy little namby-pamby conservative male, whose low sperm count would be seen as a real problem for a couple trying to have babies, out-produces super-fertile egg-slinging wonder-female, 45 million times over:

Gamete production mismatch factor: 45,000,000

Now, historically and in nature, what happens when a producer of something is effortlessly producing millions of times more of that something than it could ever use? Distribution, of course. Prices drop, and the main duty of that producer becomes getting rid of that something, any and every way it possibly can!

Oops, did we shoot 100 million of them on her belly? Uh oh, did we wipe-up 100 million with a dirty sock? So what, who cares, we'll make another 200 million by tomorrow. It only takes one: we send-up 100 million. For sure, best case, 99,999,999 are sent to die; worst case, they all die, but we make so fucking many of them every damn day, that it just doesn't matter.

The other side of the equation guards her eggs carefully, she has only a very limited number, she can't afford to waste any of them. Compound that with the physical burden of carrying a fetus to term, and the word 'selective' doesn't even begin to describe her mindset! When picking a sperm producer, she feels she has no room for error, she instinctively knows she's got to make each one count. (Ironically most women will tend to make stupid decisions for wrong reasons, but I digress...)

So what conclusions can we draw from these formulae?

We can estimate that females will be 45 million times more selective than males.

The female typically seeks a single male.

The male has no actual limit in mind, logistics and practicality are his only limiting factors.

The male will exercise almost no judgment at all when choosing a receptacle for his seed.

The female will be so selective, she may even change her mind while in the process of receiving an issue, and will play other bullshit games as well, in her confusion and fear that's brought on by her inherently intense selectivity. The level of judgment she will exercise is so extreme that it will all but consume her.

The Struggle Within

There lies this conflict that's forever going on inside me
My Mind routinely has a clear, rational grasp of the situation at hand
While my Heart is always deeply confused, yet very persuasive
My Mind tells my Heart that it's stupid, but my Heart doesn't care
It has these visions, beautiful little dreams
And it would do anything to make just one into reality

When my Heart is on a mission it's in full control
My Mind knows that trying to manage my Heart
is a useless waste of energy once it's on a roll

The only time my Mind truly prevails is when my Heart is broken
but that's such a calamity it's like being king of nothing
So my Mind will always try to fix my Heart when it breaks
even though it knows it will lose command
the moment my Heart is even partially restored

They both need each other but neither will admit
they're too focused on each other's shortcomings to realize
that it takes them both to make me whole
Perhaps because so seldom it is they see me that way
though which is cause, or which is effect, I can never tell

My Mind thinks my Heart is just a reckless vagabond
That never really knows what it wants
Yet would squander everything for which they've worked
in an instant without thinking
in exchange for the mere chance of some shining moment
it can't begin to explain
or flight of fancy it won't even pretend to understand

My Heart thinks my Mind is a stuffed shirt, a kill-joy
That can never let go of the worst case scenario
long enough to imagine the best
That never goes along with gambling everything
for fear of devastation that comes with losing
And that it exists mainly to say, "I told you so..."

For inevitably it comes,
time after time after bloody awful time
My Heart's little Utopian schemes come falling down
Crashing and burning
leaving the ashes and rubble
with which my Mind is left to deal
and my Heart so soon forgets

Poor foolish Heart, for all it extends, if only it knew
Fate is sole master of its destiny
Everything it's ever dared to deem success
has been in fact little more than random chance
It will never see the many times it's been left alone
for the failures that they are
nor reconcile the pain they bring

My Heart will never accept the harsh reality
though my Mind is well aware
For try as it might, as time has passed to tell
my Heart has the power to change nothing
it has moved no one enough to cherish it
least of all, those for whom it will never cease to care


-Mark McGinty