Futility Closet - 232-The Indomitable Spirit of Douglas Bader
Episode Date: January 14, 2019Douglas Bader was beginning a promising career as a British fighter pilot when he lost both legs in a crash. But that didn't stop him -- he learned to use artificial legs and went on to become a top ...flying ace in World War II. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll review Bader's inspiring story and the personal philosophy underlay it. We'll also revisit the year 536 and puzzle over the fate of a suitcase. Intro: In 1872 Celia Thaxter published an unsettling poem about an iceberg. In 193 the Praetorian Guard auctioned off the Roman empire. Sources for our story on Douglas Bader: Paul Brickhill, Reach for the Sky, 1954. S.P. Mackenzie, Bader's War, 2008. Andy Saunders, Bader's Last Fight, 2007. Joel Ralph, "Their Finest Hour," Canada's History 95:6 (December 2015/January 2016), 22-31. Paul Laib, "Bader, Sir Douglas Robert Steuart," Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, May 19, 2011. A.W.G. English, "Psychology of Limb Loss," BMJ: British Medical Journal 299:6710 (Nov. 18, 1989), 1287. "Obituary," Journal of the Royal Society of Arts 130:5315 (October 1982), 750-751. The Douglas Bader Foundation. Neil Tweedie, "Tribute to a Very British Hero," Daily Telegraph, Aug. 10, 2001, 10. "Reaching for the Sky: Lady Bader Unveils Statue in Honour of Sir Douglas," Birmingham Post, Aug. 10, 2001, 6. "Who Really Shot Down Douglas Bader?" Daily Telegraph, Aug. 9, 2001, 23. Arifa Akbar, "In Memory of a Legendary Hero," [Darlington, UK] Northern Echo, Aug. 8, 2001, 8. "Sir Douglas Bader, Legless RAF Ace Who Shot Down 22 German Planes," Associated Press, Sept. 6, 1982, 1. "Sir Douglas Bader, World War II Ace," Associated Press, Sept. 5, 1982. Herbert Mitgang, "He Fought Sitting Down," New York Times, Nov. 17, 1957. "Legless British Pilot to Aid Veterans Here," New York Times, May 7, 1947. "Legless Air Hero Enters British Title Golf Event," New York Times, April 5, 1946. "Legless RAF Ace Honored," New York Times, Nov. 28, 1945. "Bader, Legless RAF Flier, Freed by Yanks in Reich," New York Times, April 19, 1945. "Germans Recapture Flier Bader As He Tries Out Those New Legs; Bader Is Caught Trying to Escape," New York Times, Sept. 29, 1941. "Bader Gets New Artificial Leg, But Escape Attempt Fails," [Washington D.C.] Evening Star, Sept. 29, 1941 A-4. "Legless Pilot Honored; Bader, Now War Prisoner, Gets Bar to Flying Cross," New York Times, Sept. 5, 1941. "Epic of Bader's Leg," New York Times, Aug. 21, 1941. "R.A.F., on Sweep, Drops Artificial Leg for Bader," New York Times, Aug. 20, 1941. "Bader Is Nazi Prisoner; Legless R.A.F. Ace Safe After Parachuting in France," New York Times, Aug. 15, 1941. "Bader, Legless R.A.F. Ace, Reported Missing," New York Times, Aug. 13, 1941. "Two British Air Force Aces, One Legless, Reported Missing," [Washington D.C.] Evening Star, Aug. 12, 1941, A-18. "10 Leading R.A.F. Aces Listed for Exploits," New York Times, Jan. 10, 1941. Bader with Flight Lieutenant Eric Ball and Pilot Officer Willie McKnight of No. 242 Squadron, Duxford, October 1940. Bader himself designed the squadron's emblem, a boot kicking Hitler in the breeches. Listener mail: Wikipedia, "Settlement of Iceland" (accessed Jan. 4, 2019). Wikipedia, "History of Iceland" (accessed Jan. 4, 2019). Wikipedia, "Papar" (accessed Jan. 4, 2019). Encyclopedia.com, "The Discovery and Settlement of Iceland" (accessed Jan. 4, 2019). Neil Schlager, Science and Its Times: Understanding the Social Significance of Scientific Discovery, 2001. Wikipedia, "Thule" (accessed Jan. 4, 2019). Wikipedia, "(486958) 2014 MU69" (accessed Jan. 4, 2019). NASA, "New Horizons Chooses Nickname for 'Ultimate' Flyby Target," March 13, 2018. "Is This the Reason Ireland Converted to Christianity?," Smithsonian Channel, June 26, 2014. Mike Wall, "How Halley's Comet Is Linked to a Famine 1,500 Years Ago," NBC News, Dec. 19 2013. Colin Barras, "The Year of Darkness," New Scientist 221:2952 (2014), 34-38. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Jeff King. You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on Google Podcasts, on Apple Podcasts, or via the RSS feed at https://futilitycloset.libsyn.com/rss. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- you can choose the amount you want to pledge, and we've set up some rewards to help thank you for your support. You can also make a one-time donation on the Support Us page of the Futility Closet website. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at podcast@futilitycloset.com. Thanks for listening!
Transcript
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Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history.
Visit us online to sample more than 10,000 quirky curiosities from a titanic prophecy
to the sale of Rome.
This is episode 232.
I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross. Douglas Botter was beginning a
promising career as a British fighter pilot when he lost both legs in a crash, but that didn't
stop him. He learned to use artificial legs and went on to become a top flying ace in World War II.
In today's show, we'll review Botter's inspiring story and the personal philosophy that underlay it. We'll also
revisit the year 536 and puzzle over the fate of a suitcase.
In episode 201, we did a lateral thinking puzzle about a World War II flying ace named Douglas
Botter, and I found him so interesting that I promised to tell his whole story someday. So here it is. He was born in London
in 1910, won a scholarship to a boarding school in Oxford, and went on to the Royal Air Force College.
He already had the character that would make him famous. He was charming, fearless, effortlessly
social, and eager for a challenge. His determination made him a natural leader, and he was deeply loyal to his friends and to causes that he cared about.
His report at the RAF College described him as plucky, capable, and headstrong.
And he was enormously athletic. He won awards in cricket, rugby, hockey, and boxing. One cadet who
studied with him said, to us he was a sort of god who played every conceivable game and was the best
player on every team. He graduated second in his year and was commissioned an officer in the RAF, but 18 months later his
life changed. In December 1931, a civilian pilot at Woodley Aerodrome challenged him to demonstrate
one of his specialties, a slow roll at a very low altitude, in his Bulldog Fighter. He knew the
dangers, in fact he'd been reprimanded repeatedly for low flying,
but this other pilot's taunts stung him, and he took off. As he went into a very low roll,
his left wingtip hit the ground, and the plane went into a cartwheel. It's astonishing that he wasn't killed outright, but the doctors had to amputate his right leg above the knee and his
left leg below the knee a few days later. He wrote laconically in his logbook,
and his left leg below the knee a few days later.
He wrote laconically in his logbook,
crashed slow rolling near ground.
Bad show.
He was only 21.
It took several weeks for him to come to an emotional understanding of what had happened to him.
There was no dramatic crisis.
He wrote later,
during the years that followed my accident,
people have said,
wasn't it an awful shock when you knew that you had lost your legs?
And the answer, quite truthfully, was no.
By the time the weeks had passed and I had appreciated the loss of my legs, the fact had ceased to impress
me. That sums up his outlook. When I started researching the story, I thought it would be
about a young man reconciling himself to the loss of his legs, but it's just not. It's about a man's
steadfast refusal to let that be a factor. Bauder's biographer, Paul Brickhill, says,
The greatest and most constant factor in his endurance and resilience
lay in his eternal and aggressive response to any challenge,
the quality in him that is least elegantly and most effectively expressed as guts.
Immediately after the accident, he heard a nurse outside his door
tell some visitors, shush, there's a young man dying in there.
He knew she was talking about him, and he thought, I'm not going to die. So he began, aggressively, to live. He got up for the first time on January
15th, a month after the crash, and a week later he was wheeling himself down ramps into the hospital
garden and talking to workers there. As soon as he got a peg leg, he bullied his mother into letting
him drive the family car while she operated the clutch. The first time he went to a film,
he was disconcerted by the frank stares that people gave him, but he learned to ignore those,
and he visited a local tea room and struck up a friendship with a waitress there.
He once said, to my way of thinking, a disabled man who has achieved independence is no longer
disabled. He had bouts of depression and anger, but never self-pity or self-reproach. The accident
had happened, and it couldn't be undone. He would make his way forward from here and he was determined to fly again. He continued to visit
the girl at the tea room while they measured him for artificial legs. When he tried them out for
the first time, they told him he'd never walk again without a stick. He vowed never to walk
with one and said there was a girl he wanted to take dancing. They thought he was kidding,
but six months after the accident, he took his first steps without support. He told them, there you are, you can keep your damn sticks now.
The doctor said, I've never even seen a chap with one leg do that before, first time.
He did it through sheer determination and force of personality. He said, my attitude is that I'm
not disabled and I'm going to kick these bloody legs around and make them do what I want.
He said that he succeeded in part because he didn't mind falling down. He noticed that the people who walked best were those who weren't worried about falling down. Much later,
he wrote, my own point of view is simply this. The use of a stick, if you don't need it, provides a
negative approach to the problem rather than a positive one. In other words, if you have a stick,
your mind automatically approaches the problem from the point of view of trying to avoid falling
down, which is the negative approach. The positive approach, surely, is to say, to hell with falling down. I'm going to walk. If I fall down, it's in
no way different from anybody with both his ordinary legs tripping up and falling down.
And don't forget, plenty of people do. It cost him a lot of agony to accustom himself to the legs,
and he did fall a lot. But meanwhile, he had a car specially adapted for him and took a disabled
driver's test, so now he could visit the waitress on his own.
He still didn't know her name.
In time, he grew so adept that people who didn't know him thought he had only a bad limp,
and he discovered he had nothing to fear from a dog that tried to bite him.
And in June 1932, Sir Philip Sassoon, the Undersecretary of State for Air,
gave him permission to try to fly again.
That went very well.
He told Sassoon,
Absolutely fine, sir.
Honestly, no different at all to flying with my old legs.
Sassoon agreed to put in word with the medical board
that would have to clear him formally to fly again.
When his mother learned about this, she said,
I thought you might have had enough of flying now.
He said,
Good gosh, no.
I have had my crash now.
I won't have any more.
He did seem to have a sort of illogical faith in that notion,
and he pointed out that if he did crash again, he had no more legs to lose. His blood pressure had been somewhat
high before the accident, but now the medical board found that it was quite normal. The doctors
decided that this must be because the loss of his legs had reduced the distance that his blood had
to be pumped. One of them said, you'll probably be less inclined to black out in steep turns and
dives, too, because you've got less extremities for the blood to sink into,
something to be said for losing your legs after all.
That was the basis for our lateral thinking puzzle.
They cleared him for restricted flying at home,
but he wasn't allowed to go solo,
and they sent him on to the Central Flying School at Wittering.
The girl at the tea room turned out to be named Thelma Edwards,
and she agreed to go out with him.
On the date, he invited her to dance, and she said, I didn't know you dance, too. He said, oh, it's quite easy.
If I trip, I hang on to the girl. It went pretty well, except that he stood on her foot at one
point and then fell down as they went back to the table. But that didn't seem to matter at all,
and they found that they liked each other, which was important because it turned out she lived at
the top of 12 flights of stairs in a building with no lift. She told her mother, without his legs, I still like him much more than anyone else.
Her mother said, you might have to be a sort of nurse to him, and she said, not with Douglas.
Botter kept flying, but he was still required to have an instructor in the back cockpit. There was
nothing in the regulations covering a case like his, so they couldn't clear him to fly alone.
That constraint made it hard to find a place for him. The RAF gave him a desk job for a while, but finally they retired him with a
pension on grounds of ill health. He married Thelma and found a job with the Asiatic Petroleum
Company. He was miserable being unable to fly, but he had the same indomitable determination to go on.
He took up tennis and squash again, and he developed a serious interest in golf, which makes
a good illustration of his whole attitude. He tried it idly at first with Thelma. With his first swing,
he missed the ball badly, overbalanced, and fell flat on his back. He tried again and fell, then
twice more, adjusting his stance and swing, but the same thing kept happening. Stubbornly, he decided
that he must hit the ball before he gave it up. Finally, on the 12th swing, he connected.
He fell that time too, but now he could see the ball flying, and there had been something very satisfying about the click of the club hitting the ball. So he kept swinging, missing, and falling
until he hit it again on about the 25th swing and twice more in the 30s. After he'd fallen about 40
times, Thelma said, now come on, I think you've had enough. But they went back the next day, and he
fell 20 times more before he tried a shorter swing,
connected, and managed to keep his balance.
He grinned at Thelma, and she said,
Good, now you'll be satisfied.
And he said,
Not on your life.
That was in the spring.
At the end of August, he was playing six holes at a time, and one day in December, he played 36.
When he returned to the clubhouse, his stumps were chafed and his sweat was pouring off him,
but he was grinning.
And his good shots sailed dead straight. If they did anything else,
he fell over, so he simply required himself to hit straight. That gave him an advantage over other players, and in time, he got his handicap down to four. He still thought constantly
of flying. In 1935, he asked the RAF whether they might consider letting him rejoin. They said no
at first, but as Europe moved toward war, he persuaded them to take him back. They gave him another desk job at first,
but he easily passed a flying test, and they finally reinstated him as a regular officer with
his former rank and seniority and assigned him to a Spitfire squadron in Duxford. That was everything
he'd wanted, the chance to fight for England. When the war started, he was jubilant. He told Thelma,
now we can get at them.
He led a squadron that watched over the evacuation of Dunkirk and then was given command of a Canadian hurricane squadron whose members seemed insolent and mistrustful at first.
He found out that their morale was low because they'd lost half their number in France.
Essentially, they'd been abandoned by authority, forced to service their own aircraft and find
their own food and petrol. He got them the resources they needed, listened to their stories,
showed them his own piloting skills,
and fought ferociously for them against the bureaucracy.
Under his leadership, they went on to claim 62 aerial victories
in the Battle of Britain.
The remarkable thing about the whole second half of his biography
is that the leglessness just doesn't come up.
I'm sure it was a factor in his life every single day,
but he just goes about his business, and it doesn't seem to inhibit I'm sure it was a factor in his life every single day, but he just goes about his
business and it doesn't seem to inhibit him in any way. I suppose being a pilot, you don't do a lot
with your legs. And as you said, it's actually an advantage in some situations to not have legs.
But if he'd really wanted to be a truck driver, I mean, that might have been a little harder.
I suppose so. But as an officer, he was doing all kinds of, you know, facing a
hundred problems every day on the ground. And, you know, he had a very busy, complicated life
with a lot of responsibilities. And it's just remarkable, if you read his biography, how little
it... In the first half of the book, like right after the accident, it's obviously very traumatic
and takes an awful lot of work and pain. But after that, it just sort of doesn't matter.
It doesn't play a factor for him. Yeah. Paul Brickhill, who spent a year with him in order to write that biography, wrote,
It seldom occurs to me, when with Botter, that he has no legs, a common experience with those
who know him. His secret is simple and sounds trite. It is merely that he will not yield.
He certainly didn't. In fact, as he moved up through the ranks of British fighting aces,
Thelma had to remind him that he wasn't immortal. He said, Don't be damn silly,
darling. I've got armor plate behind me, tin legs underneath, and an engine in front. How the hell can they get
at me? By September 1940, he was commanding five squadrons totaling 60 warplanes, and in March 1941,
he was made a wing commander for an attack across France. By now, his fearlessness was famous, and
it seemed to extend to the men who flew with him. Tom Pike, who commanded one of his squadrons, said,
I think he almost eliminated fear from his pilots.
His semi-humorous, bloodthirsty outlook was exactly what is wanted in war,
and their morale soared.
He was a tremendous tonic.
Another squadron leader, Ken Holden, said,
I've never known a braver man.
He was mad about getting at the Hun and couldn't talk about anything else.
He was like a dynamo with terrific morale and a strange power over his men so that they all caught his spirit. Even Thelma felt sure that the enemy would never
get him. Every time he came back from a sweep, he would swoop low over their house to let her know
he was safe, and she came to think of that more as an affectionate gesture than any need to reassure
her. But that changed quite suddenly in August 1941 when his Spitfire collided with the Luftwaffe
Messerschmitt and forced him to bail out over German-occupied France, he was captured.
The Germans retrieved one of his legs from the aircraft, and he got them to Radio England to ask for a replacement for the other one, which the RAF dropped by parachute later that month.
The Germans may have regretted doing that because Bader immediately set about trying to escape, climbing down knotted sheets and organizing tunnels.
After four attempts, they threatened to take his legs away again. He ended up spending three years at Kolditz Castle and was freed at the end of the war. When he got home, undaunted
as ever, he recorded his last flight in his logbook. It reads, good flight near Bitun, shot
down one 109F and collided with another, POW, two 109Fs destroyed. Altogether during the war,
he had downed an estimated 30 German planes, of which 22 were officially confirmed. They promoted
him to group captain, and he led the victory flypast over London on September 15, 1945.
He left the RAF in 1946, and the petroleum company offered him his old job back, with his own
airplane so he could fly around the world on aviation business. He received many heartwarming messages. Chief of
Fighter Command Sir James Robb wrote, all I can say is that you are leaving behind an example,
which as the years roll by will become a legend. In 1947, he said he hoped to lend a hand with the
U.S. rehabilitation program for American veterans and civilians who had lost limbs. He said, I've
been through the whole thing, and I feel I might be able to point out some shortcuts to the rehabilitation of people
who have lost their legs. The first few months are the most difficult for such people, and if
they can only see someone who has had the same problem and solved it, it helps a lot.
He traveled the world visiting people who had lost limbs. In Chicago, he read about a 10-year-old
boy who'd spilled burning petrol over himself and lost both legs below the knee. He spent an hour and a half by his bed showing him that legs didn't matter so much.
Later, the father told him wordly, the boy just doesn't realize how serious it is yet.
Botter said, that's the one thing he must never realize. You've got to make him feel this is
another game he's got to learn, not something that will cripple him. Once you frighten him
with it, he's beaten. Paul Brickhill, the biographer, wrote, that, in a nutshell,
was the Botter philosophy concerning not only legs, but life itself. In 1976, Bodder was honored with a
knighthood for his contributions to the disabled community, and at his death in 1982, his family
and friends established a foundation in his name under the maxim, a disabled person who fights back
is not disabled, but inspired.
In episode 227, I talked about how the year 536 was very likely the worst year to be alive,
due to a terrible haze that left much of the world in darkness for more than a year and a plunge in temperatures that resulted in crop failures, famine, and plague.
Recent analysis of a Swiss glacier had determined that this fog
had likely been due to a cataclysmic volcanic eruption, probably in Iceland.
I mentioned that if the eruption had been in Iceland,
then anyone who managed to survive it
wouldn't really have had a good way to communicate what had happened to anyone else in the world.
A few of our listeners wrote to let me know that I was making a bit of an assumption here.
For example, Ali Riggett wrote,
Dear Greg and Sharon, this is one of your loyal listeners from Iceland writing to you again.
Thanks for today's podcast, and I have already heard theories of the Icelandic volcano causing year 536 to be one of the worst in history.
But I wanted to tell you that the people of Iceland didn't communicate the eruption because
there were no people here. The first settlers arrived in the second half of the 9th century,
making it one of the last places on Earth to be settled by humans. Reykjavik was famously settled here in the year 874 plus or minus 2,
a mere 338 years after the eruption.
Thanks again for the interesting stories.
Rasmus Andersson wrote,
Dear Voices,
Regarding the follow-up from the last episode
and getting the word out from Iceland about the volcanic eruption,
Iceland was at the
time basically uninhabited, as there were still several centuries before the Norse would colonize
it. It's possible that Irish monks, known as papar, would have been visiting Iceland over the summer
at this point, as it's believed that a small population did before the Norse, but this might
have been a bit early even for that. But there would not have been any permanent population,
and it's certainly possible that such an eruption would have hindered them from traveling for a few years.
So I hadn't realized how relatively late Iceland was settled compared to the rest of Western Europe.
From what I could find, though, not much is really known for sure about the settlement of Iceland.
874 is often cited as the approximate presumed date of the
first settlements in Iceland by the Norse, though that date and much of the information about the
first settlements comes from two Icelandic histories that were written at least more
than two centuries later, and it's unclear how reliable the details from these works are.
Still, no one seems to seriously dispute that the Norse settlements date from the latter
half of the 9th century, though as Rasmus noted, there are some bits of evidence to suggest that
some Irish monks may have lived in Iceland before the arrival of the Norse, though the earliest I
was able to find that anyone is suggesting for that was the second half of the 7th century.
Whether it was actually this early is a matter of some dispute, but in any case,
it's still well after 536. So the safe bet is that any Icelandic volcanic eruption in that year
would not have been directly observed by any humans.
That seems very, I mean, leaving aside the specifics of what precisely the date was,
that seems like a very late period to be settling.
Compared to the other countries near it, yes, it is way, way later. I
mean, if you just do a quick search for when some of the other countries were settled, it was, you
know, thousands of years before the year zero. Wow. So it's, I don't know, I'm not quite sure
why Iceland took so long to get anybody on it. Yeah. And a little side note here, when I was
looking into the topic of the settlement of Iceland,
I came across references to the island sometimes being identified in earlier centuries as Tuli,
or sometimes Ultima Tuli.
And this name caught my attention because while I was doing this research,
the astronomical Ultima Tuli was in the news,
because the New Horizons spacecraft was sending back images of this celestial body,
because the New Horizons spacecraft was sending back images of the celestial body,
which at 4 billion miles from the Earth is now the most distant object in the solar system to have been visited by a spacecraft.
So I learned that Thule was the name used for the farthest north location
that was mentioned in ancient Greek and Roman literature and cartography.
It's unclear where exactly this was, but the name was said to have been derived
from an archaic word for the polar night phenomenon, the place where the sun goes to rest
and night can last for more than 24 hours. Iceland was one of the places identified as Thule,
possibly as late as the 18th century, though by the late 19th century, Thule was more frequently
identified with Norway. And in 1910, a missionary and trading post in northwestern Greenland was named Thule.
In classical and medieval literature, Ultima Thule, or Farthermost Thule,
was used metaphorically to describe a distant place located beyond the borders of the known world,
and it was this sense of the phrase that earned the celestial object its current nickname, which was chosen by the New Horizons mission team with the help of public input,
as the body officially known as 2014 MU69 was seen as humanity's latest Ultima Thule.
That's astounding how much our conception of what's far away has changed in a few hundred years? Oh, wow, yeah. From like Iceland to like 4 billion miles.
On the topic of the year 536, Tucker Drake sent an email with the subject line,
the year 536 sucked worse than you know.
Hello, Sasha and her human minions.
I was listening to the latest episode of Futility Closet,
and when you read the letter talking about how a volcanic eruption was responsible for some awful weather in the years 536 to 540,
was reminded of this video talking about how, at roughly the same time, pieces of Halley's Comet hit the Earth, causing bad weather,
and that this may have enabled Christian missionaries to convert pagan Ireland.
And Tucker sent a link to a video clip
from the Smithsonian Channel titled, Is This the Reason Ireland Converted to Christianity?
In which the geophysicist Dallas Abbott explains her theory that the massive dust cloud that
appeared around 536 was due to a piece of a comet, probably Halley's Comet, hitting the Earth near
the equator. Abbott says that ice core
samples from Greenland show evidence of extraterrestrial dust in the Earth's atmosphere
from 533 until 539 or 540. The video presents the idea that Ireland's conversion from paganism to
Christianity around this time was facilitated by the famine, darkness, plague, and what appeared
to be stars falling from the sky,
which the Irish may have been persuaded to believe to be signs that the world was ending
and that now was the time to convert to a new religion.
The really harsh conditions of 536 and the following years did seem to bring on a period of political and social turmoil in many places.
But whether Halley's Comet can be said to be responsible
for Ireland turning to Christianity is an open question. Although it's an interesting and
plausible theory that the misery of the times did contribute to the spread of Christianity in
Ireland, I wasn't able to turn up much else written in support of it. And it seems to me
that it just might be kind of a hard thing to prove one way or another.
Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. Which doesn't mean it's false.
Right, but it might be hard to find direct evidence of it.
It was interesting to see that not everyone is sold
on the cataclysmic volcanic eruptions theory
for the climate events of 536 and later years.
And some further reading on the topic showed me
that it has been speculated for quite some time
whether volcanoes or comets might have been responsible for the pronounced haze and
significant weather changes that started in 536. Based on my limited and very inexpert reading on
the subject, it seemed to me that while both views have at least a little evidence to point to,
volcanic eruptions seem to be currently more widely accepted.
Although some researchers, including Abbott, are suggesting that the answer may be that
it was actually both, one or more volcanic eruptions combined with one or more intense
meteor showers or actual comet strikes.
There's something fascinating about that to me, that that explanation was so unlooked
for.
Like, I think we would have guessed not long ago that there were completely different explanations for why these changes in culture had happened.
And now it seems like these are completely different reasons are being put forward now.
There's just something fascinating about that to me.
Tucker ended his email with,
Finally, my feline master, Professor Fuzznuts Jr., says to tell you that if you're not giving Sasha churu cat treats,
you're not being proper servants to your feline overlord.
Seriously, he loves the stuff.
It's almost impossible for me to get the package open fast enough for him.
So thanks for the tip, Tucker.
I'm sure that Sasha thinks that we are not living up to our responsibilities to her
in all kinds of ways.
But unfortunately, this is going to have to remain one of them.
Sasha has mild kidney disease and is on a prescription diet,
which means that we got to learn that there is actually such a thing as prescription cat food.
And it also means that her diet is very tightly restricted, much to her disgust.
So no more of her yummy favorite cat food and no more treats.
It's been a bit of an adjustment for us,
but the diet is actually being very effective health-wise.
So overall, we've been pleased.
But I'm sure Sasha thinks it's just one more way that she's being horribly mistreated.
Thanks so much to everyone who writes in to us.
We really appreciate hearing from our listeners.
So if you have anything you'd like to send, such as updates, feedback, or condolences to Sasha, please send it to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
It's Greg's turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle. I'm going to give him an interesting sounding situation,
and he has to see if he can figure out what's going on, asking yes or no questions.
This puzzle comes from Jeff King, who wrote,
I recently had this situation happen to me, and I thought it would make a fun puzzle.
Jeff packs a bag that doesn't belong to him and flies to another city.
At the end of his stay, he packs a different bag, which also does not belong to him, and
flies home.
What happened to the first bag and why?
Okay.
Okay, where do you start with this?
By pack a bag, I take it you mean, I mean, that phrase generally means like packing
luggage, which you said that's what he's doing. Yes. So he's packing, do I need to know what
exactly he packs? Like clothing or? No, let's just say the typical things you'd pack for a trip.
Really? Yes. Okay. Packs a bag that doesn't belong to him. Correct. Meaning it's a piece of,
is it luggage? Yes. Kind of like a suitcase? Yes. Packs a suitcase. Yes. That doesn't belong to him. Correct. Meaning it's a piece of, is it luggage? Yes. Kind of like a suitcase? Yes. Packs a suitcase.
Yes.
That doesn't belong to him.
Correct.
Do the contents, the things that he packs into it belong to him?
Yes.
So he puts things that he owns into a suitcase he does not own.
Correct.
And then you said travels to another city.
Travels to another city.
Flies to another city.
Is that important?
It's somewhat important for this puzzle.
Is his occupation important?
No.
Okay, so he gets to the other city with a suitcase full of, someone else's suitcase full of his stuff.
Yes.
And then does something in that other city.
Yes.
And then on the way back, he puts, I'm just getting this straight.
Sure.
Puts his belongings into a different suitcase?
Yes.
That belongs to a third person? Yes. That belongs to a
third person? No. Ah, a second person. Yes. The same other person. Yes. Into the same other
suitcase then? The same suitcase that he used on the... No, it's a different bag that doesn't
belong to him. A different suitcase that doesn't belong to him. But it belongs to... Both of them
belong to this other person. Yes. Okay. That's getting somewhere. And comes home. Yes. Do I need to know what happens
after he gets home? No. And do I need to know what he does in this other city or where it is
or any of that? No. Do I need to know his relationship to this other person? You don't
need to know their exact relationship, but they do have a relationship.
Does the other person benefit from this?
Yes.
Does Jeff benefit?
Not directly.
So he's doing this for another person.
Yes.
Is the other person's occupation important?
No.
Would you say this is a crime?
No.
Is it illegal?
No.
Or breaking some rule?
No.
Or skirting it? No.
Okay. Because I have this idea that it's something to do with with like a baggage claim rules or something like he he can i don't know how this
would work fly more cheaply if he checks bags that aren't in his own name that wouldn't make
any sense anyway no but that's not it it's not something to do with air travel and checking bags.
It is something to do with air travel, but it's not going to benefit Jeff.
Is the other person, does it have something to do with frequent flyer credit?
No.
And just for simplicity, just so you know, the other person is his boyfriend, Eric.
Is he flying under Eric's name?
No.
So they're not trying to make it look like Eric is the one taking the trip. Right. They're not trying to cheat the system or game the system or deceive
anyone. But this will benefit Eric. In doing this, is Eric getting credit in some way? No.
For, I don't know what, the trip or something? No. Okay. So he checks a bag with Eric's name on it
No it doesn't matter if the bag has Eric's name on it or not
Would this work if he didn't check the bag?
If he just carried it on?
Yes
So he could pack a bag
Yes
That belongs to Eric
Yes
With his own stuff
Yes
And just carry it onto the plane
I believe so
And go to Chicago or wherever it is.
Right.
And he meets up with Eric.
Ah.
Does Eric at the end wind up with that suitcase?
Yes.
And then Eric gives him another suitcase.
Yes.
That Jeff packs with Jeff's belongings.
Is it just that Eric, for some reason, needs to move these suitcases around and Jeff is moving in the right direction so he just says, hey?
Not quite, if I understand you correctly.
I mean, that would make sense.
I don't know why you would want to juggle your suitcases.
All right, so.
So Jeff at home packs Eric's bag with Jeff's belongings, flies to meet Eric in another city and then
unpacks the suitcase
gives the suitcase to Eric
gives him a different suitcase
it's also Eric's and Jeff puts his belongings
into this new Eric's suitcase and brings it
back home with him yes so why
would he do all this and how would this benefit Eric
so Eric
winds up with
a different suitcase that is Eric's suitcase he gains one suitcase and
loses another one yes and why would eric want that does it have to do with the size or the
shape yes yes of the suitcase yes so he just needs a different suitcase he does he does um
eric needed to switch his current suitcase for a smaller size for the next leg of his trip due to
weight restrictions of the plane so to be able to i, I'm assuming to be able to carry it on,
he needed a smaller suitcase than what he had.
That makes sense.
So then Jeff packed his own clothes in one of Eric's other carry-on suitcases
and flew out to meet him, and they swapped,
and then Jeff came home with Eric's larger suitcase.
That makes perfect sense.
So thanks so much to Jeff and indirectly Eric for that happily non-fatal puzzle.
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