Month: September 2007

This weekend should be worth at least one decent post…

This weekend, one of the two of this semester’s classes that I have not yet used for a “what I learned in school today” post took a field trip.

Yes, Our “Environmental Chemistry” lab went to Yellowstone National Park and (legally – we had a permit and everything) did some water sampling. We got some on-site lectures about the types of water systems in the park, considerations involved in sampling things, and so on. All in all, I thought it was pretty interesting, but after spending the entire weekend either driving to or from the park or walking around in the park I’m a bit exhaustipated. Plus, bummed out that I can’t afford a good portable field microscope to go with the regular microscope which I also can’t afford. Woe unto me. I imagine the permit we had would have allowed me to also dangle some slides in the water to look at.

I did record a GPS track of both days field-trips, I got ICBM addresses for our sampling sites, and a number of photographs with my cheap and ancient digital camera along the way. Give me some time and I’ll get at least one real post out of it.

Meanwhile, a bit of trivia: “The Microsoft Network” search system is pretty Fupped Duck. I do get the occasional obviously relevant hit from one of their searches, but the great majority seems to be “hits” from random one-word searches, many of which seem to refer to words that appear nowhere on the site (and others of which are so broad I have no idea how many pages some MSN user would have to click through before hitting my site. For example, while I like to think I’m making a reasonable effort to do interesting science blogging, I’m having trouble imagining that this blog would show up in the first few pages for a search consisting solely of the word “science”…which one of the recent hits seemed to show.

Actually, this probably has less to do with users than with Microsoft itself – the hits for this don’t appear to be loading real views (it pulls one page and doesn’t reference, for example, images) though it is coming from “The Microsoft Network” addresses. Perhaps Microsoft has one of their bots masquerading as a real user (the user-agent string looks like regular “Internet Explorer 7″)…even the IP address resolves to a bogus name ” bl2sch1082217.phx.gbl.”, for example) which doesn’t resolve back the other way. Of course, it’s also possible the hit is ENTIRELY bogus and the “referer” tag that seems to indicate this is also faked. Perhaps it’s time to start blocking Microsoft…or maybe just messing with them. This apparent standards abuse and obfuscation of what exactly it is that they’re trying to do with my blog (and messing up my logs!) kind of bugs me. (Moral of the story is probably “Everybody should just use Google“…)

Sure “Cardboard Sarcophagus Instructions” is a pretty weird search, too, coming from Google, but at least I know why THAT one got here. I doubt the searcher – possibly from the Memphis, Tennessee area – was really searching for metaphors for expired JellO boxes.

The Unbearable Limeness of Being

I awaken. Am I alive? The temperature is neither extremely hot nor extremely cold, so I’m apparently not in some punishment-afterlife. And there’s no beer volcano or stripper-factory, so this obviously isn’t heaven. On the other hand, I am experiencing the usual persistent discomfort involved with waking up early in the morning. On the assumption that Catholic “purgatory” would be more dull, I will assume I am still alive, and had better get up and get to class.

Since my previous experiment, I have obviously had to revise my original hypothesis. Since the last caused me no ill effects, I had to abandon the notion that expired gelatin products become a deadly poison. Instead, as I consume this batch of official, non-sugarless Jell-O®-brand Gelatin (Lime flavored), I operate on a new hypothesis:

“Expired instant gelatin products from intact packaging will not harm me if I eat it.”

My precious stock of expired JellO® is depleted by one more box, the packet ripped from its cardboard sarcophagus, the contents prepared according to the standard instructions, and consumed hastily last night (the animation from the previous post is the actual container of prepared Lime JellO® made from digital photographs taken between helpings.). You can see the old-style date code on the box. According to Carolyn Wyman’s “JELL-O: A Biography”, the code indicates that it was packaged in 2003 (the “3” at the beginning of the code), on the 343rd day of the year, in the San Leandro (California) packaging facility. Although there is no official “expiration date” shown, given the “expected shelf life” of 24 months, this package is approximately 2 years out of date. And I ate it. I appear to have suffered no ill effects. Not even a decent sugar-rush: the entire box contains 320 calories, barely equivalent to a package of Twinkies®. The flavor even appeared to be perfectly normal. Mmmmmm, Lime JellO…

When I took it out to eat it, I did spot a beautiful if alarming sight, though:

The crystalline-appearing sheets of growth from the edge of the bowl into the gelatin was slightly disturbing. Was I crystallizing something odd out of the gelatin/sugar/flavor solution? The growth resembled infiltration of mold into the gelatin medium enough to slightly worry me. But only slightly.

In fact, as I had most suspected, these turned out to be ice crystals. Quite pretty, but they started slowly melting away after the bowl was allowed to sit at room temperature for fifteen minutes or so – plus, they crunched when I ate them just like ice. Thus encouraged, I ate the gelatin and went to bed. And here I am (sitting in the student lounge between “History of Western Art” and “Introduction to Philosophy”) happily blogging away, apparently unharmed.

Does this prove that expired instant gelatin is harmless? Well, no, not exactly. Scientists never really “prove” anything. Instead, we attempt to “falsify” our hypotheses and theories as best we can. This is where the concept of the “null hypothesis” comes in.

The “Null Hypothesis” here is the situation that, if true, falsifies my hypothesis. In this case, it would be “Expired instant gelatin products from intact packaging will harm me if I eat it.”. However, I did eat expired gelatin products from an intact package and was NOT harmed. Therefore I must “reject the Null Hypothesis”…and therefore my experimental evidence does not fail to support my hypothesis! SUCCESS!

If we are unable to find a condition which renders our hypothesis or theory incorrect after many and varied tests, ideally by several different researchers, then we can be confident that our hypothesis or theory is correct, but we don’t necessarily KNOW that there isn’t some odd undiscovered exception that we don’t know about.

Two samples (this one and the previous sugarless-orange one) is hardly a large number of trials. This doesn’t prove that expired JellO® is always safe, but since I know of no plausible way by which an intact package of instant gelatin could become hazardous I feel pretty comfortable that expired gelatin from intact packaging won’t harm me.

If the package is not intact and contains a fuzzy green lump instead of the usual powder, then it’s a whole other situation, obviously…

I do still have three or four more boxes of the sugarless generic expired gelatin – perhaps I can come up with some more tests. Meanwhile, I do hope that my incredibly brave, life-threatening experiments here will relax nervous expired-JellO eaters everywhere…

If I Win It…

One topic that I have hoped to emphasize much more on this blog is amateur science, and in particular (given my educational background) amateur Microbiology.

Don’t be dissuaded by my use of the word “amateur” here. I don’t mean “not really” science (i.e. the microbiological equivalent of the “baking soda volcano”). Rather, here I’m using “amateur” in its proper etymological sense – science done for the love of it. I don’t just mean my brief series of experiments on the toxicology of expired JellO®. I mean actual microbiology with potential practical application as well as educational value. Unfortunately, there are a few bits of equipment for this that I can’t reasonably cobble together out of spare parts or repurposed household appliances. A microscope, for instance. Or a dry-ice maker.

Being a full-time college student, I’m poor, and can’t afford a microscope. A decent ordinary “brightfield” microscope appears to cost about $400. Bonus materials like a “darkfield” condensor are extra, unless I think I can rig up an equivalent on my own. A nicer digital camera to take pictures with to share with you, my loyal reader(s) would add some more to the cost. Even in the case of equipment and supplies improvised from more ordinary and readily-available materials (pressure-cooker=”autoclave”), there is still a cost. Woe unto me, what shall I do?!?!?

For the moment, I shall revert to the time-honored traditions of “begging” and “hoping”…

You see, there appears to be a scholarship available for bloggers who are full-time college students. Why, what a coincidence! I blog…and I’m a full-time college student! What luck!

There appears to be a US$10,000 (that’s almost 10000 CANADIAN dollars!). It’s not explicitly stated but last year they also had $1,000 “runner-up” awards as well. Here, then, is my pledge to you all.

Should I be selected as a finalist for this scholarship competition, I will eat 2-year-old JellO! Furthermore, if I were to actually be selected to win a $1000 scholarship, I will buy a real microscope and be able to blog my microbiology experiments and studies much more vividly. I will also blog the design and construction of my own amateur microbiology lab, to the extent that I can afford. (Well, I was ALSO going to do this anyway, but with a scholarship I’d actually be able to start doing it…)

Were I to be selected to win the full $10,000 scholarship I propose to go absolutely Nucking Futs, with a microscope, a nice new digital camera, dry-ice maker and plenty of CO2, perhaps some dedicated hosting for this blog, and a complete collection of useful microbiology equipment (mostly improvised still, but that’s half of the education right there…). Furthermore, should my readers demand it, I might even be persuaded to drink a cup of fresh Lysogeny Broth!

Come on, who needs this money and attention more – me, or some wealthy (compared to me) graduate student over on scienceblogs.com? I bet none of them would eat 2-year-old JellO or drink E.coli Chow for it, would they?

10 Finalists are to be announced October 7th, from what I understand…wish me [good] luck…
UPDATE: I made the finals, though my fame doesn’t seem to be carrying along a rose-petal-strewn path to victory yet…

Art historians – do they minor in Purple Prose?

Let us read from the Book of “Art Across Time”, chapter one, page 36:

“This particular painting seems to represent either a ritual or a supernatural event. In contrast to the animals, which are nearly always in profile, this creature turns and stares out of the rock. His pricked-up ears and alert expression suggest that he is aware of an alien presence.”

Wow, that must be one exceptionally detailed and well-preserved cave-painting, to convey all of that. Let’s have a look:

Okay…to me the “head” looks like an indistinct smear, with spots that a human mind – tuned to recognize patterns, especially faces, even if the patterns don’t actually exist – might interpret as some kind of face. To me, it looks kind of like a crudely-drawn cartoon-animal face, with overwhelmed-Charlie-Brown-style bugeyes, a button nose, and the tongue hanging out of one side of its mouth. Yet, somehow, I don’t feel inclined to suggest that this is what is actually there. Personally, I’d be more inclined to suspect that the artist (estimated to have lived 13000-15000 years ago) had trouble finishing the drawing and gave up. Yet if you poke around for information about this image, you find all kinds of breathless prose about it. So, where does all the poetic language about the possible “meaning” and interpretation of the Trois-Frčres “Sorcerer” come from?

I suspect it all comes not from the seemingly rare photographs of the original cave-painting, but from the famous and heavily-embellished sketch made by Henri Breuil:

Yeah, that’s not what I see in the photograph of the original, either.

Apparently, this cave-painting is about 13 feet off of the floor. Monsieur Breuil described having to stand with one foot on a small projecting rock, then half-turn and sit up against the cave wall while trying to juggle his light and drawing implements to make hist sketch.  Sounds to me like the cave-painting is in a hard-to-reach spot, perhaps supporting my “artist had trouble drawing there” hypothesis? I also can’t tell from the original if all of the figure was painted at the same time, or if perhaps someone started out drawing a deer or something of the sort (the hind legs look about right for that proportionally, prior to the ‘human-lower-leg’ part), and hundreds of years later some wiseguy came along and drew human-type lower legs and feet on the end of the deer’s legs as a joke, for that matter.

The Art History class is interesting, but the amount of speculative-sounding interpretation of the art and architecture without supporting citations is something of a culture-shock to me after the last couple of years for more “hard-science” classes.

Anybody see anything there in that original painting that I’m missing? Or for that matter, know where to find a GOOD photograph of it?

I am decidedly indecisive tonight…

I actually have a number of potential blog topics lined up now, and I can’t decide which one to do next…

  • “What I Learned In School Today: The Burden of Proof for Art Historians is Somewhat Lower Than For ‘Harder’ Sciences” (the Trois-Freres “Sorcerer”)
  • “What I Learned In School Today: Socrates Thinks Shrinkwrap Licenses Are Good”
  • Why Microbial Fuel Cells Work
  • What’s a “Clone Library”? (Since I’m trying to make one…)
  • Attention Getting Ploys for the Blog (should I promise to drink a cup of Lysogeny Broth when I reach 25 active readers?…)
  • What I Would Do With “Blogging Scholarship” Money (build my Hillbilly Biotech lab, and blog it.)
  • The Office of Technology Assessment Is Not Enough (arrogant amateur policy thoughts…)
  • What I Want To Be When I “Grow Up” (in a manner of speaking).

Anything in particular interest any of you regular or accidental (e.g. Google®-searchers) readers?

And, yes, I will follow through with the Lime JellO® experiment as promised soon.

Why I blog, and the Office of Technology Assessment

Via a post over on the Aetiology blog (and Retrospectacle) I happened upon a survey being taking about science blogging. It got me thinking a bit about why I’m doing this – aside from the masses of screaming groupies I have.

Aside from just being fun (I like to write), I set up this particular blog as a platform to practice communicating scientific topics. It’s a skill that really isn’t emphasized much in science education as far as I can tell, and regardless of where my career may go post-graduation I’m sure the ability to articulate scientific and technical topics will be beneficial to me.

In fact, I can see two different ways I could go with a career either during or after graduate school. Obviously, I could end up employed in a capacity where I’m officially “doing” science, which could be anything from “brewmeister” to curating a culture collection to academic research to being a lab grunt. I could also see myself pursuing a policy or science communication angle as well, though. This could be anything from Public Relations for a scientific or technical company to science writing to scientific advising…which brings me to the Office of Technology Assessment.

A post over on the “Denialism Blog” at Scienceblogs.com started a stream of “Bring Back the Office of Technology Assessment” posts around the net. Now, there’s a dream job. I would personally love to have a job like that. Make an enjoyable and comfortable living from whatever talent I have at explaining scientific and technical topics, and directly and substantially benefit my country in the process? Sign me up! Of course, even when the OTA existed, it only had a small number of employees, and presumably they were all Ph.D.’s with backgrounds in science and public policy, so the odds of me getting hired there (specifically) would probably be comparatively slim. Still, I can dream, and perhaps if we luck out and my wife (a Ph.D. Geologist with a background in borehole geophysics, petroleum geology, nuclear technology, and a variety of other areas – anybody out on the East coast in the general vicinity of Washington D.C. need anybody like that?…) and I have the opportunity to move somewhere with a good “science and public policy” graduate program I may have a chance.

My personal desires aside, though, if there’s one thing the people who are supposed to be running the country seem to really need, it’s rational science and technology information. Since the disbanding of the OTA we’ve had the DMCA and the costly and predictable abuses it brought (such as DMCA lawsuits over printer ink refills and replacement garage door openers), minimally-rational ideological fights over things like stem cell research and global climate change, panic and “security theater” over technically improbable-to-impossible “terrorist” threats (like the possibility that a terrorist will blow up a plane with a “liquid bomb” made of 4 ounces of baby food and shampoo, or “blow up” the fuel depot at JFK airport) (Mayor Bloomberg’s “STFU and GBTW” style of response to the panic was a glimmer of hope to me that there was some rationality left among my fellow human beings). I will refrain from picking on Ted “Series of Tubes” Stevens other than bringing this up as another example of lack of good information for policy-setting congresspeople. All this disruptive fuss, largely over ignorance and misunderstanding, which seems to be what the Office of Technology Assessment was intended to address. I would definitely agree that the OTA or something like it appears to be an urgent need – either that or Congress should quit playing around and just formally declare a science-boosting ‘War on Science’.

There are one or two things I’d like to figure out before I start mailing letters to congresspeople and presidential candidates though. For one thing – what would be the difference between the Congressional Research Service’s Resources, Science, and Industry division? Would one group be more focussed on specific policy implications while the other deals with “just the facts”? Also, the one legitimate-sounding complaint that I’ve seen in some of the newspaper articles on the subject is that it would often take longer to come out with a report on a subject than congress had (that is, congress would end up having to assemble a law and vote on it before the reports were completed). Should whatever takes the place of the OTA be re-designed to focus more on getting quicker answers? Like, maybe, hiring a bunch more people? Including, say, eager and capable grad-students…Okay, I’ll stop begging…

More to follow on this and related topics. Oh, and advice on successfully pursuing this type of career would be welcome.

Expired JellO®! Flee! FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!

Expired JellO®! Deadly Poison, or Merely Debilitating? Can a human being withstand the toxic load of an *entire box* of it? Would he suffer embarassingly loud and messy gastrointestinal distress, or would immediate organ failure set in before this could take place? STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT!…

Yes, loyal readers, as I type this I have subjected my own body to unthinkable risks to answer these very questions. That, dear readers, is how much I care about your health and welfare. You can thank me later…

…If I survive!

What does it mean to be an “Applied Empirical Naturalist”, anyway? As a naturalist, I look for natural explanations for natural observations. If I survive this ordeal, I will not explain it as being due to protection by supernatural forces, and conversely if I end up confined to an intensive care unit, my body ravaged by Expired-Gelatin-Syndrome, I will not seek to explain it as divine punishment for violating Kosher. As an Empirical naturalist, I investigate things by actual observation and direct testing wherever possible, rather than purely philosophical means. And – particularly important to me – Applied Empirical Naturalism is intended to convey that I am primarily interested in investigations with practical uses. Discovering the “Pineapple-Upside-Down Quark” with an umpty-brazillion-dollar particle accelerator and six months of supercomputer time to crunch the data wouldn’t do me, personally, much good. Knowing whether expired JellO® is safe to eat or not, however, has obvious practical application. Especially considering that I seem to have about 5 more boxes of the stuff in the pantry.

So, here I sit, perhaps writing my very last words ever before Expired-Gelatin-Shock causes my brains to swell up and explode messily and fatally from my ears like the popping of two superintelligent zits, in the service of Science. Here, then, is my story.

I begin by building my dire experiment around the following excessively-formal Valid Argument:

Upon expiration, JellO® becomes a deadly poison which causes great harm to those who dare ingest it
I prepare and consume an entire box of expired JellO®
Therefore, I suffer great harm due to its ingestion.

Last night, I plucked from the depths of my pantry an expired-2˝-years-ago box of sugarless orange-flavored gelatin with which to begin this investigation. I blew the layer of dust off of the box, and carefully opened it, half-expecting to find some strange mutant gelatin-beast had developed in it over the years since expiration. One hand poised to protect myself should the creature leap from the box to eat my face in anger of being disturbed, I was both relieved and slightly disappointed to find nothing more than a foil packet containing what sounded like perfectly ordinary gelatin-powder. The packet proved to be intact, and the happy orange powder poured into a freshly-cleaned dish in a manner perfectly imitating that of wholesome non-expired gelatin. I dismissed the faint demonic snickering sound I seemed to hear as a figment of my fevered imagination and prepared the gelatin powder in the usual manner.

I took up my electric kettle, containing distilled water, and threw the switch. Seconds passed into minutes. Minutes passed into more minutes. Then, the water began boiling vigorously, and I applied one cup (8 fluid ounces) of this to the dish of powder, stirring it with a tablespoon. It seemed to take at least two minutes of continuous stirring, but the deceptively innocent-looking powder finally dissolved without the slightest scent of brimstone. As prescribed by the instructions on the box, I added a further 8 fluid ounces of cold water (from the tap of my kitchen sink), stirred briefly to mix, and placed the dish in the refrigerator to gel overnight.

I lay awake in bed for hours, wondering if I was doing the right thing. Was I insane? Did I not remember the tales of Jeckyll and Hyde? Of Doctor Frankenstein? Of Pons and Fleischman? What horrible fate was I setting myself up for? Finally, I dropped into a fitful slumber, disturbed only by dreams of amorphous orange demons stalking me to feast upon my soul…

Day broke, and this very afternoon I took the now solidified mass from the refrigerator. This was it. My last chance to avoid whatever hellish abuses this disturbingly orange substance had planned for me. But no…it was far too late to turn back now. I took up my spoon, and devoured every last bit of happy orange jiggliness.

This was approximately seven hours ago. In the intervening time, I have experienced the following symptoms: Occasional thirst, mild generalized anxiety about the near future, hunger, and an urge to write this blog post in a hyperbolic language more suited to an H.P. Lovecraft story than a scientific report. In other words…I appear to have been entirely unaffected, despite consuming an entire box of expired gelatin.

I’ve been taught that when hypothesis-testing, one considers the “null hypothesis”. That is, the hypothesis that would falsify the one that I’m starting with. In this case, it would be something to the effect of “I will suffer no harm whatsoever from eating expired JellO®”. Given the results in this experiment I must – in the tortured language of philosophical science – “fail to reject the null hypothesis”, because my results show no evidence whatsoever that I have suffered harm from eating expired gelatin. In other words, I cannot rationally cling to my original hypothesis as written, and must confess that perhaps expired instant gelatin still in intact packaging may, in fact, be harmless.

Ah, but I know what happens now. “Cad!”, you cry! “Fraud! Sham! This experiment is, like, totally bogus! This is not normal JellO® but a sugar-free impostor! And furthermore, this isn’t even JellO®-brand gelatin, but a cheap knock-off brand! How dare you, sir, feed us this crap, which proves nothing!”

I answer in two parts: Firstly, ladies and gentlemen who are my readers, I assure you that the contents of the less-famous brand and the official Kraft® Foods brand are essentially identical, and indeed, might conceivably have come from the same source. It’s common practice for one factory’s product to be shipped to multiple sellers who each offer it under their own label, as the wide variety of affected brands during the recent “salmonella peanut butter” scare demonstrated. And secondly: as it happens, I also have in my possession a box of JellO®-brand lime-flavored gelatin, WITH sugar, which although it lists no obvious “expiration date”, has a code stamped on the box indicating that it was originally packaged in late 2003, and therefore should have exceeded the expected 24-month shelf-life about the same time as today’s test subject did. I swear to you, dear readers, that I will repeat my experiment with this sample next.

Stay tuned: “Expired JellO II: Lime’s Revenge”, coming soon to a blog near you!

UPDATE: The Expired JellO® Saga continues here!

Okay, this is completely bogus…

The folks over at BBspot are callously spreading microbiological misinformation (click for full-size):

This is just plain irresponsible and utterly wrong. Surely everyone can see the obvious problem here, right?

When this happens, the flame is blue, not orange.

Uh, or so I’ve heard.

(If it isn’t obvious – what you do in this situation is calmly take the spreader out and set it on your nice, flameproof benchtop, and set something non-fragile and non-flammable on top of the flaming jar of alcohol, which will then go out quickly as the oxygen gets used up. All the labs I’ve been in lately use “canning” jars for the alcohol in this application, complete with lids which can be set on top to extinguish the flame.)

What I Learned In School Today: Mortals have Limits, and Socrates was a jerk…

…Or at least, Plato’s accounts of him make him seem that way.

We’ve been reading (as English translations) accounts of Socrates’ trial and related occurrences as written by Plato. It started off with a possibly fictional dialog before Socrates’ trial, between Socrates and some guy named Euthyphro, who is some kind of priest.

In short, they get to talking about why they are there at the court, and it turns out Euthyphro is there to accuse his own father, who has apparently committed what we in the modern U.S. would call “manslaughter”. Euthyphro’s father had caught a murderer, then tied him up and thrown him in a ditch while he sent somebody to ask the authorities what to do with the murderer. While waiting for the messenger to return with the answer, the murderer in the ditch had evidently died. Euthyphro says “piety” demands that his father be tried for the death of the murderer but complains that everybody seems to think that hauling his own father to court for this is “impious”. And now you have the backstory for a long, involved, and ultimately unsettled discussion of just what the heck “piety” is supposed to be.

That’s where you notice that Socrates is a sarcastic butthead who thinks he’s on a mission from The Gods™ to prove that everybody is an ignorant fool. He puts on a snide show, pretending that he expects Euthyphro will reveal The Secret Of What Piety Really Is (Socrates claims that the knowledge will be useful for his own defense at his trial later) all the while busily demonstrating that Euthyphro really can’t answer the question.

The argument dances around various definitions. They more or less settle on the notion that “piety” is something that pleases all of the Gods (and impiety, by definition, displeases all of the gods), and that The Gods™ love an action because it is pious rather than something being pious because it is loved by The Gods™. (There’s a bit of virtually Dickensian pedantry there involving whether something is “being carried” because someone is carrying it or whether people carry things because they are “being carried” objects.) I guess that means nobody would have to worry that they’d wake up one morning and discover that The Gods had decided on a whim that “piety” would mean raping puppies and eating babies for the next few days. They manage to reach agreement that “piety” has something to do with being like a servant to the gods, but are completely unable to come up with a definitive test by which they could define any particular act as “pious” or “impious”.

Euthyphro finally says (more or less) that hey, he’d love to stay and go around and around and around and around with this annoying little brain-teaser but he’s got places to be and things to do, and the dialog ends with one last bit of Socratic Sarcasm as Socrates wails about how he was hoping to show up at his trial and tell everyone he’d learned the divine secret of Piety from Euthyphro and therefore wouldn’t be accidentally corrupting the youth with his lack of wisdom any more…

I have to wonder if Plato wrote this dialog so that readers would understand why so many Athenians wanted to get rid of him…

Of course, as an (self-proclaimed) Applied Empirical Naturalist, I think they’re whole problem is that the knowledge they were seeking was defined as something that would only necessarily exist in the minds of Supernatural entities – since “piety” and “impiety” are entirely defined in terms of what The Gods thought, it’s not clear that “piety” can be known outside of the Invisible Giant People Up On Mount Olympus. Of course for Euthyphro, being a professional priest, admitting that he doesn’t – and maybe can’t – know what “piety” actually is and that he really has no clue what’s going on in the minds of The Gods would be a definite Career-Limiting Move, and Socrates doesn’t seem (to me) to actually care what it means so long as he gets to prove that Euthyphro doesn’t know either, so it’s no wonder that this point doesn’t come up.

I wasn’t kidding about the “thinks he’s on a mission from The Gods™ to prove that everybody is an ignorant fool” comment, either. In his “Apologia” (defense speech during his trial), as reported by Plato, Socrates describes how someone once went to the Oracle at Delphi and asked if anyone was wiser than Socrates, and was told that, no, nobody was wiser than Socrates. Socrates says he interprets this to mean that nobody is really wise and that this answer from the Oracle (who is just passing on messages from the Gods, after all) means that he has a sacred duty to go around demonstrating this fact – which is the basis of the famous “Nobody knows anything, but I know I don’t know anything, so I know more than anybody else” flippant description of this argument.

Oh, and one unrelated odd fact – the introduction to the translation says that Socrates is about 70 years old during this trial, but at one point during Socrates’ rambling defense speech he explains that he wouldn’t want to be like other people who show up in court and have their kids plead with the jury for mercy in order to avoid punishment. Socrates says he had three kids – one adolescent and two who are “children”. So, wait, he’s wandering around Athens unmarried, when suddenly he runs into some woman willing to shack up with a penniless, irritating old guy who’s almost sixty and they have three kids who survive childhood? What?

This isn’t discussed at all, really, it just struck me as a really odd circumstance…