I'm on LinkedIn here.
For a long time I treated this pretty passively, but as LinkedIn is, apparently, the 'thinking person's FaceBook', I decided to treat it a little more seriously and so gave my profile a makeover.
One of the consequences was that I decided to try to add to my network some of the colleagues I used to work with back at STL in the early eighties - Will and Paul, Mike and Jill, Bernie and Mel. This is not the place for a memoir, but let me outline the background.
I had moved to STL from a systems programming job in 1982, and suddenly found myself in a first-rate research environment, tasked to develop part of a software support environment for 'formal methods' such as CCS, Z and VDM. My first assignment was to develop a term-rewrite system using Lisp (on a VAX 11/780).
My real interests however lay elsewhere, and having done my software engineering apprenticeship, I was able to set up a funded team to work on formalisations of Artificial Intelligence. This was the subject of the parallel Ph. D. programme I did at Surrey University between 1984 and 1988, supervised by Professor Bernie Cohen.
Sadly, following the takeover of STL by Northern Telecom/Bell-Northern Research, all this blue-sky stuff was terminated, and I had to re-launch my career in telecoms as a carrier network designer. I recall Professor Cohen being distinctly irritated, to put it mildly, that what looked like a promising field of further research had been so abruptly terminated. Perhaps a small explanation is owed to him here.
Bernie, at the end of my thesis I concluded that if we were going to understand human mental architecture (which includes concepts such as emotion, personality differences, intelligence and consciousness itself) we had to understand what specific environmental conditions held back there in the Pleistocene, such that human cognition was the appropriate consequential evolved response. I did some preliminary exploration, but there was almost no academic research to draw upon.
It must be a feeling familiar to physicists today. There were many, many directions which could be mathematically explored, but in the absence of experimental real-world feedback there was no ability to prune the cul-de-sacs and focus on the most promising directions.
The feeling that my research programme had stalled has been vindicated over the years. Subsequently there was the explosion of work in sociobiology (E. O. Wilson et al.), and the further development of evolutionary psychology with all its manifest strengths and weaknesses. AI research meanwhile stultified, while sociobiology continues to be the area I would work in, if I could restart my research programme today.
But we still don't understand enough about the ecological drivers of human cognition over the last 100-200,000 years. In fact this whole area, at a conceptual level, is subject to enormous contemporary debate.
It was Richard Feynman who said that if you can't construct it, you don't understand it. A very profound thought of course, and a pointer to the fact that the falsification of our best, speculative evolutionary psychological theories requires we can build agents effectively mimicking humans in social interactions. Sadly, that's a generation away though, showing what we have here is a genuine research programme, not simply a problem to be directly addressed and solved.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Visitors
A house full at present with my mother staying, and Adrian arrived back from Canada yesterday for a while. Alex brought him here from Gatwick, and they're off to the Derbyshire Moors near Edale tomorrow for a few days. As usual, they have been ransacking my wardrobe for wet weather gear and laughing at the girth of my trousers. The word 'clown' has been used.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Literary SF and its discontents
In between bouts of quantum mechanics, I have been resting my tired mind by re-engaging with the science-fiction delights of the Andover Library, and specifically with literary SF.
In the good old days, SF was about excitement combined with awe-inducing new ideas. As Kilgore Trout cynically observed in Timequake, SF writers don't do characterisation and to think they oughta betrays a lack of understanding of the genre.
Of course, a sullen resentment of SF's genre-ridden underdog status has moved us all along from that particular understanding. You can't go near an SF book these days without discovering that the author has a Ph.D. in literary criticism from Cambridge University and that his writing is textured with high-quality descriptive writing and deep character studies.
Exhibit 'A' for your examination is Gradisil by Adam Roberts. Yes, Adam writes well and his characterisation would get good-to-excellent marks in a writing class: I can distinguish his characters even if I can't remember their names. The book was abandoned one third of the way through due to the fact that the plot held essentially no interest whatsoever, while the premise of an orbital hobo space community inhabiting pressurised tin cans circling the earth in defiance of all major powers seemed devoid of any possible suspension of disbelief.
My next example is Life During Wartime by Lucius Shepard. This describes an interminable jungle war in central America where the SF interest is that there are psionic soldiers who can control other people with their minds. The hero - really an antihero - is drug-addled and deeply unpleasant. The descriptive writing is excellent - you feel the damp heat, the shanty towns and the mosquitoes - and the characterisation is believable. This book was abandoned half way through because the action proceeded at a dreary pace to no good end, and the plot appeared both opaque and pointless. Oh, and it's a love story.
I think the rot probably started with Stamping Butterflies by Jon Courtenay Grimwood. Another booked lauded to the skies for its high literary style but actually terminally boring.
I am still searching for the Kingsley Amis quote where towards the end of his life he resolutely turns his face against literary fiction and states that henceforward he will read only novels where a revolver is mentioned in the first few pages and is used shortly thereafter.
There is room for something which combines tight, page-turning plotting; jaw-dropping intellectual shock-and-awe; fine characterisation, and descriptive writing. Perhaps Iain M. Banks is somewhere in this space, but where is everybody else?
In the good old days, SF was about excitement combined with awe-inducing new ideas. As Kilgore Trout cynically observed in Timequake, SF writers don't do characterisation and to think they oughta betrays a lack of understanding of the genre.
Of course, a sullen resentment of SF's genre-ridden underdog status has moved us all along from that particular understanding. You can't go near an SF book these days without discovering that the author has a Ph.D. in literary criticism from Cambridge University and that his writing is textured with high-quality descriptive writing and deep character studies.
Exhibit 'A' for your examination is Gradisil by Adam Roberts. Yes, Adam writes well and his characterisation would get good-to-excellent marks in a writing class: I can distinguish his characters even if I can't remember their names. The book was abandoned one third of the way through due to the fact that the plot held essentially no interest whatsoever, while the premise of an orbital hobo space community inhabiting pressurised tin cans circling the earth in defiance of all major powers seemed devoid of any possible suspension of disbelief.
My next example is Life During Wartime by Lucius Shepard. This describes an interminable jungle war in central America where the SF interest is that there are psionic soldiers who can control other people with their minds. The hero - really an antihero - is drug-addled and deeply unpleasant. The descriptive writing is excellent - you feel the damp heat, the shanty towns and the mosquitoes - and the characterisation is believable. This book was abandoned half way through because the action proceeded at a dreary pace to no good end, and the plot appeared both opaque and pointless. Oh, and it's a love story.
I think the rot probably started with Stamping Butterflies by Jon Courtenay Grimwood. Another booked lauded to the skies for its high literary style but actually terminally boring.
I am still searching for the Kingsley Amis quote where towards the end of his life he resolutely turns his face against literary fiction and states that henceforward he will read only novels where a revolver is mentioned in the first few pages and is used shortly thereafter.
There is room for something which combines tight, page-turning plotting; jaw-dropping intellectual shock-and-awe; fine characterisation, and descriptive writing. Perhaps Iain M. Banks is somewhere in this space, but where is everybody else?
Double slit experiment (electron)
I used to wonder exactly how Quantum Mechanics models the phenomenon of a single electron encountering a double slit and then being detected at a point which ends up as part of an interference pattern.
I'm now aware that solving the problem analytically is complicated: the electron has to be modelled as a suitable wavepacket, and the double slit as a potential barrier with gaps. However, the java applet here shows it all wonderfully.
The best setting for me is with a small slit-size (10) and with detector distance 50. Note the reflected part of the wavefunction is symmetrical with the transmitted part.
We're not seeing the wavefunction itself, but the modulus squared - the probability wave (mod(Ψ))2.
I'm now aware that solving the problem analytically is complicated: the electron has to be modelled as a suitable wavepacket, and the double slit as a potential barrier with gaps. However, the java applet here shows it all wonderfully.
The best setting for me is with a small slit-size (10) and with detector distance 50. Note the reflected part of the wavefunction is symmetrical with the transmitted part.
We're not seeing the wavefunction itself, but the modulus squared - the probability wave (mod(Ψ))2.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Restoration
Down to Salisbury Playhouse this evening to see "Restoration", a play adapted from the book of the same name by Rose Tremain, which was shortlisted for the Booker in 1989.
The book must have had something going for it, but we found the play unbearably tedious, and left in the interval. Something to do with a lack of any kind of tension. We just didn't care about any of the characters or where the plot was meandering to.
The book must have had something going for it, but we found the play unbearably tedious, and left in the interval. Something to do with a lack of any kind of tension. We just didn't care about any of the characters or where the plot was meandering to.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Review of "Wolf Hall" by Hilary Mantel
This review, jointly created by Clare and myself, is posted on Amazon here. (3 stars).
----
Five hundred years ago, in 1509, the 17 year old Henry VIII and his new Spanish bride Catherine ascended the English throne. Catherine managed to produce the future Queen Mary in 1516, but subsequently failed to provide a male heir. By 1532, after great difficulties Henry had finally managed to have his marriage with Catherine annulled, and went on to marry Anne Boleyn, the mother of the future Queen Elizabeth. Anne also failed to produce the necessary male heir and was executed in 1536 in favour of wife number three, Jane Seymour.
Henry’s desperate attempts to extricated himself from Catherine – efforts involving Pope Clement VII and his captor at the time, Emperor Charles V - were mediated by his top advisors: Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, his later replacement, Sir Thomas More, and his successor, Thomas Cromwell (in 1532).
‘Wolf Hall’ spans the period from the removal of Cardinal Wolsey from the court in 1529 to the eclipse of Anne Boleyn after 1534. The machinations of Anne in her endeavours to become Queen are central to the book, Henry appearing only in cameo. Our conduit into the court is Master Thomas Cromwell, a loyal servant of Cardinal Wolsey and his right-hand man and confidante. He has been apprenticed to a master tactician and when Wolsey dies, Cromwell transfers his skills to aiding Henry in achieving what Wolsey had failed to deliver, a divorce from Catherine and a legal marriage to Anne.
The first tranche of this book enchanted me as I was wholly transported to Tudor London. The description of Cromwell’s family and work-life is rich in detail and characterisation. The scourges of the age, which touched his domestic life, are treated with poignancy but not over-dramatised: there is much here to value. Wolsey’s persecution is movingly evoked, but with his death the energy and pace of the novel slacken and when the action moves to the court and begins to focus on Anne, the essential tautness is lost and the book disappoints.
The potential for revelation of Anne Boleyn’s character and motivation is a missed opportunity. Her portrayal is two-dimensional: her ambition and vindictiveness unleavened with redeeming characteristics. In common with Henry she wants a son to settle the succession, her daughter being despatched into the country to the care of courtiers. She is really too bad to be true.
As a counterpoint to her awfulness, Cromwell is painted as a superman figure: linguist, international merchant and financier, deploying intelligence, diligence and humanity as far as is compatible with being Henry’s enforcer. He coaxes and cajoles Queen Catherine, her daughter Mary and Sir Thomas More with advice to submit to the will of the king. This good advice is never acted upon.
To please his monarch he fleeces vulnerable members of the aristocracy before turning his attention to the clergy. Cromwell grows in influence and wealth while nature thwarts Anne. Of course, he eventually gets his comeuppance (executed in 1540).
The historical facts underlying this novel are well-outlined in this competent novel, but a proper exploration of the complexity of Anne Boleyn could have made the basis of an outstanding book.
----
Five hundred years ago, in 1509, the 17 year old Henry VIII and his new Spanish bride Catherine ascended the English throne. Catherine managed to produce the future Queen Mary in 1516, but subsequently failed to provide a male heir. By 1532, after great difficulties Henry had finally managed to have his marriage with Catherine annulled, and went on to marry Anne Boleyn, the mother of the future Queen Elizabeth. Anne also failed to produce the necessary male heir and was executed in 1536 in favour of wife number three, Jane Seymour.
Henry’s desperate attempts to extricated himself from Catherine – efforts involving Pope Clement VII and his captor at the time, Emperor Charles V - were mediated by his top advisors: Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, his later replacement, Sir Thomas More, and his successor, Thomas Cromwell (in 1532).
‘Wolf Hall’ spans the period from the removal of Cardinal Wolsey from the court in 1529 to the eclipse of Anne Boleyn after 1534. The machinations of Anne in her endeavours to become Queen are central to the book, Henry appearing only in cameo. Our conduit into the court is Master Thomas Cromwell, a loyal servant of Cardinal Wolsey and his right-hand man and confidante. He has been apprenticed to a master tactician and when Wolsey dies, Cromwell transfers his skills to aiding Henry in achieving what Wolsey had failed to deliver, a divorce from Catherine and a legal marriage to Anne.
The first tranche of this book enchanted me as I was wholly transported to Tudor London. The description of Cromwell’s family and work-life is rich in detail and characterisation. The scourges of the age, which touched his domestic life, are treated with poignancy but not over-dramatised: there is much here to value. Wolsey’s persecution is movingly evoked, but with his death the energy and pace of the novel slacken and when the action moves to the court and begins to focus on Anne, the essential tautness is lost and the book disappoints.
The potential for revelation of Anne Boleyn’s character and motivation is a missed opportunity. Her portrayal is two-dimensional: her ambition and vindictiveness unleavened with redeeming characteristics. In common with Henry she wants a son to settle the succession, her daughter being despatched into the country to the care of courtiers. She is really too bad to be true.
As a counterpoint to her awfulness, Cromwell is painted as a superman figure: linguist, international merchant and financier, deploying intelligence, diligence and humanity as far as is compatible with being Henry’s enforcer. He coaxes and cajoles Queen Catherine, her daughter Mary and Sir Thomas More with advice to submit to the will of the king. This good advice is never acted upon.
To please his monarch he fleeces vulnerable members of the aristocracy before turning his attention to the clergy. Cromwell grows in influence and wealth while nature thwarts Anne. Of course, he eventually gets his comeuppance (executed in 1540).
The historical facts underlying this novel are well-outlined in this competent novel, but a proper exploration of the complexity of Anne Boleyn could have made the basis of an outstanding book.
Friday, April 03, 2009
The steepness of SM358
I was going to do the third computer assessment for my QM course yesterday (iCMA 53). However, the course website was down for an upgrade, so I went into revision mode instead with the course book 1. Boy, I was glad I did.
The conceptual ramp-up in SM358 is quite severe and it's amazing how much you don't get at first reading. Yesterday I revised stationary solutions in square wells and today it's the following chapter on harmonic oscillators and ladder functions. The final chapters are on wave packets, motion, scattering and tunnelling and I expect new revelations as I review this material.
The iCMAs are challenging to one's self-esteem. There are 8 multiple choice questions, which invariably require pen and paper calculation. If you make a wrong choice, you are deducted 3 marks (you start with 100) and are given a hint. This process recurs through the whole test and once lost, marks cannot be regained. So far, I have never gotten through with 100%.
Only you and your tutor can see your marks, which are not assessed for the overall course, so the damage resulting from errors is only to your reputation. Naturally, I find this stressful.
On a complementary theme, I was surprised today by another copy of New Scientist flopping through the door - I had assumed my subscription to be well-finished by now. The main feature concerned the development of the brain through life.
I naturally turned to the final section, the ageing brain, where I discovered the secular decline of IQ with age, specifically fluid intelligence - the kind measured by culture-free IQ tests. Sadly this stuff is essential for tackling conceptual material like Quantum Mechanics.
The only potential bright spot was that at least the emotional response to this decline can be partially offset by the consumption of chocolate.
The conceptual ramp-up in SM358 is quite severe and it's amazing how much you don't get at first reading. Yesterday I revised stationary solutions in square wells and today it's the following chapter on harmonic oscillators and ladder functions. The final chapters are on wave packets, motion, scattering and tunnelling and I expect new revelations as I review this material.
The iCMAs are challenging to one's self-esteem. There are 8 multiple choice questions, which invariably require pen and paper calculation. If you make a wrong choice, you are deducted 3 marks (you start with 100) and are given a hint. This process recurs through the whole test and once lost, marks cannot be regained. So far, I have never gotten through with 100%.
Only you and your tutor can see your marks, which are not assessed for the overall course, so the damage resulting from errors is only to your reputation. Naturally, I find this stressful.
On a complementary theme, I was surprised today by another copy of New Scientist flopping through the door - I had assumed my subscription to be well-finished by now. The main feature concerned the development of the brain through life.
I naturally turned to the final section, the ageing brain, where I discovered the secular decline of IQ with age, specifically fluid intelligence - the kind measured by culture-free IQ tests. Sadly this stuff is essential for tackling conceptual material like Quantum Mechanics.
The only potential bright spot was that at least the emotional response to this decline can be partially offset by the consumption of chocolate.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Functional Analysis for Quantum Mechanics
Note to self. Found this on the web which seems to get good reviews on Amazon.
Methods of Modern Mathematical Physics, Vol. 1: Functional Analysis
Noted here if and when I take a course on functional analysis. Proximate reason - I am today revising book one of SM358, the Open University's course on QM and I was just checking that position eigenfunctions were in fact delta functions.
Still at the point of scratching my head a little for a rigorous derivation as to why this is the case, although the OU text has a perfectly OK hand-wavy and intuitive motivation using approximations to delta functions they call 'top-hat functions'.
________
Roy Simpson writes:
"Yes Reed and Simon is the classic text on this topic. However I think that it will be a major study course itself to go into this, partly because Functional Analysis has to deal with the many infinite structures in QM.
For example the Hilbert space is infinite dimensional, so what are the definedness and convergence properties of the operators (like the Hamiltonians you will be generating) on infinite dimensional vector spaces? You will be glad just to write down a correct Hamiltonian (for the square well, etc), never mind proving that it has the correct infinitary properties!
The Dirac Delta "function" is the simplest of another kind of mathematical entity known as a Distribution. Distributions D are dual to functions:
D: Fn --> Real -- (where Fn is: Real --> Real).
My short book on Distributions is by Schwartz and is quite readable (on a second attempt!). It all relates to complex numbers too. Looking at Wikipedia I see that the Dirac delta can be formed into a "comb" and used for Digital Signal Processing."
Methods of Modern Mathematical Physics, Vol. 1: Functional Analysis
Noted here if and when I take a course on functional analysis. Proximate reason - I am today revising book one of SM358, the Open University's course on QM and I was just checking that position eigenfunctions were in fact delta functions.
Still at the point of scratching my head a little for a rigorous derivation as to why this is the case, although the OU text has a perfectly OK hand-wavy and intuitive motivation using approximations to delta functions they call 'top-hat functions'.
________
Roy Simpson writes:
"Yes Reed and Simon is the classic text on this topic. However I think that it will be a major study course itself to go into this, partly because Functional Analysis has to deal with the many infinite structures in QM.
For example the Hilbert space is infinite dimensional, so what are the definedness and convergence properties of the operators (like the Hamiltonians you will be generating) on infinite dimensional vector spaces? You will be glad just to write down a correct Hamiltonian (for the square well, etc), never mind proving that it has the correct infinitary properties!
The Dirac Delta "function" is the simplest of another kind of mathematical entity known as a Distribution. Distributions D are dual to functions:
D: Fn --> Real -- (where Fn is: Real --> Real).
My short book on Distributions is by Schwartz and is quite readable (on a second attempt!). It all relates to complex numbers too. Looking at Wikipedia I see that the Dirac delta can be formed into a "comb" and used for Digital Signal Processing."
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
The George Inn, Thruxton
We cycled down to the George Inn, Thruxton for lunch today (beef lasagne with garlic bread & salad for her and homemade turkey curry for me).
I can report that the food was hot, promptly served and of excellent quality.
I can report that the food was hot, promptly served and of excellent quality.
Stranger in a Strange Land
... or STrANgER IN A StRANgE LAnD as the title has it.
This is not Obama in London (today for the G20) but Robert Heinlein's novel first published in 1961 and then republished in 1991 at 220,000 words with all the cut bits restored.
Not wholly wise.
The plot concerns a child of the first Martian expedition, brought up by the Martians after the death of all the adults. The second expedition brings the child, Valentine Michael Smith, back to earth as a 25 year old man, heir to an immense fortune and legally perhaps the sovereign of Mars.
Smith is a classic literary type, the smart but totally innocent stranger in a strange land. Heinlein has a lot of fun using him as a mirror against American society. After an early thriller-sequence whereby Smith is extracted from Government control, he ends up at the ranch of another of Heinlein's stock characters, the elderly sage Dr Jubal Harshaw. This man: rich, a medical doctor, a top lawyer, an author and someone incredibly well-connected, is Heinlein's mouthpiece for his philosophy.
Like all Heinlein's novels, SIASL is incredibly didactic. His editors never seemed to have enough power to tell him to cut those 'tell-not-show' sections where Heinlein sounds off. The novel got into trouble on publication mostly for its attack on organised religion, the effectiveness of H.'s critique being that he simply tells it like it is: the true nature of charismatic cults; the viciousness and self-contradictions of The Bible; the gullibility of the marks, sorry, believers.
My main problem is not the religious critique - which I agree with, or even the way the Islamic character Dr. Mahmoud gets to be called "Stinky" (yeuk!). No, the problem is sex. Heinlein, although altogether in favour of science and technology, never thought to apply evolutionary thinking to people. In his mind, we are all blank slates written upon by an oppressive and strait-laced Abrahamic culture.
Remove this overlay and what do you get? An idealised society of love, bonded by unrelenting on-demand sex between all parties, without reluctance and certainly without jealousy. As the 'Man from Mars' eventually gets the hang of ('groks') the wrong nature of earthly society, his solution is to set up his own church-like outfit where the inner core get to learn to speak and think in the Martian language and have sex with each other all the time Bonobo-style*.
Nothing is described particularly graphically but that's not the problem. It's just that there's something particularly unsavoury about having to share in Mr. Heinlein's voyeuristic fantasies. I hate to use the term 'dirty old man' but there you are. Both wrong and distasteful.
It all ends with a bit of a laugh, as it it turns out that the afterlife exists after all, and that Valentine Michael Smith is the Archangel Michael, working alongside sundry other cult leaders who have been rubbished in the main text. Perhaps this is the final meta-satire.
Heinlein could certainly write, and for me his best book was Starship Troopers, still overly didactic but at least he confined his evangelism to the conditions of citizenship, where he was on safer ground.
______
* Apparently Bonobos don't have sex all the time for social bonding purposes - another myth shattered.
This is not Obama in London (today for the G20) but Robert Heinlein's novel first published in 1961 and then republished in 1991 at 220,000 words with all the cut bits restored.
Not wholly wise.
The plot concerns a child of the first Martian expedition, brought up by the Martians after the death of all the adults. The second expedition brings the child, Valentine Michael Smith, back to earth as a 25 year old man, heir to an immense fortune and legally perhaps the sovereign of Mars.
Smith is a classic literary type, the smart but totally innocent stranger in a strange land. Heinlein has a lot of fun using him as a mirror against American society. After an early thriller-sequence whereby Smith is extracted from Government control, he ends up at the ranch of another of Heinlein's stock characters, the elderly sage Dr Jubal Harshaw. This man: rich, a medical doctor, a top lawyer, an author and someone incredibly well-connected, is Heinlein's mouthpiece for his philosophy.
Like all Heinlein's novels, SIASL is incredibly didactic. His editors never seemed to have enough power to tell him to cut those 'tell-not-show' sections where Heinlein sounds off. The novel got into trouble on publication mostly for its attack on organised religion, the effectiveness of H.'s critique being that he simply tells it like it is: the true nature of charismatic cults; the viciousness and self-contradictions of The Bible; the gullibility of the marks, sorry, believers.
My main problem is not the religious critique - which I agree with, or even the way the Islamic character Dr. Mahmoud gets to be called "Stinky" (yeuk!). No, the problem is sex. Heinlein, although altogether in favour of science and technology, never thought to apply evolutionary thinking to people. In his mind, we are all blank slates written upon by an oppressive and strait-laced Abrahamic culture.
Remove this overlay and what do you get? An idealised society of love, bonded by unrelenting on-demand sex between all parties, without reluctance and certainly without jealousy. As the 'Man from Mars' eventually gets the hang of ('groks') the wrong nature of earthly society, his solution is to set up his own church-like outfit where the inner core get to learn to speak and think in the Martian language and have sex with each other all the time Bonobo-style*.
Nothing is described particularly graphically but that's not the problem. It's just that there's something particularly unsavoury about having to share in Mr. Heinlein's voyeuristic fantasies. I hate to use the term 'dirty old man' but there you are. Both wrong and distasteful.
It all ends with a bit of a laugh, as it it turns out that the afterlife exists after all, and that Valentine Michael Smith is the Archangel Michael, working alongside sundry other cult leaders who have been rubbished in the main text. Perhaps this is the final meta-satire.
Heinlein could certainly write, and for me his best book was Starship Troopers, still overly didactic but at least he confined his evangelism to the conditions of citizenship, where he was on safer ground.
______
* Apparently Bonobos don't have sex all the time for social bonding purposes - another myth shattered.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)