Vintage Creationist Dinosaur Art: Dinosaurs, Those Terrible Lizards

     One of the paleontology blogs I follow, Love In The Time Of Chasmosaurs, has this semi-regular feature they call "Vintage Dinosaur Art", where they look back through old dinosaur books and critique them on the paleoart found within their pages. I enjoy these posts tremendously; I find it fascinating to see what these books got right, what was good enough for the time, and what was so wildly, hilariously off-base you wonder how how anyone ever got such an idea into their heads. It's also interesting to note the random memes that take hold in the medium for no particular reason and then refuse to die over the course of paleoart history. (Note: because my wife told me it sounds weird to use the word "meme" for something other than funny cat pictures, I should clarify that I am using the word in the broader sense of "an idea, behavior, or stye that spreads from person to person within a culture.")
     And so, I've decided to get in on the game myself, reviewing a set of books I'm sure are rather under-exposed: get ready for Vintage Creationist Dinosaur Art! As a dinosaur nut from a Young Earth Creationist background, I grew up with many books with such provocative titles as "Noah's Ark and the Lost World". They've been gathering dust on my shelves for a while, so when I recently leafed through them a while back, I got the bright idea to give them the Love In The Time Of Chasmosaurs treatment. Now, since I hope to appeal to both sides of the aisle with this series, I'm going to avoid any assessment of the larger models of creationism or evolutionary theory; I am endeavoring to strictly evaluate the reconstructions and portrayals of the creatures in these books, and maybe increase awareness of the aforementioned in the process.
     With that in mind, let's move on to the oldest book in my collection. Straight out of 1977, it's Dinosaurs: Those Terrible Lizards!!!

ROAR!

     Now this book is so old that many of the dinosaurs here will appear outdated to even the most casual layperson. Luckily, there's still plenty  of material for us to review together, as a few classic dino-memes pop up here, as well as several homegrown, creationist-specific memes.
     We begin unassumingly enough with a pair of dinosaur skeletons, which appear to represent Tyrannosaurus and Corythosaurus, respectively. It's kinda hard to screw up a skeleton unless you're just making things up on the fly, and happily, the illusatrator (a one Marvin Ross) has rendered these reasonably well for their time. The neural spines on the Corythosaurus' vertebrae should be a little taller, and while Mr. Ross appears to be aware of the existence of gastralia (stomach ribs) on the T-rex, they are far too thick (they should be much thinner than the normal ribs, and connecting to a sort of sternum). The poses are rather outdated of course, but as all the dinosaurs in this book remain ponderous tail draggers, we won't dwell too much on this topic.

     Being written by creationists, the book starts off with brief explanations of the theories of evolution and creation. I won't dwell on them here, but this visual representation of evolution certainly stands out. I like the way the artist made the dinosaurs all blend together in a manner suggesting a common source.

It stands opposite another image with all the dinosaurs standing perfectly separate but not doing anything particularly interesting, so in the interest of space I only included this one.

     The next illustration features a hallmark of early creationist arguments that has since been abandoned by most mainstream creation societies: the Paluxy River dinosaur tracks. These famous trackways are significant for showing what seems to be three theropods (carnivorous dinosaurs) following a small herd of sauropods (long-necks). During the 1930's, the claim began spreading around that human footprints could be seen interspersed with the dinosaur trackways, thus proving human coexistence with dinosaurs. However, since that time, some of the purported human footprints have turned out to be outright forgeries, while others have been proven to be badly eroded dinosaur footprints. It makes for a provocative illustration, though! Speaking of which, the art in this book alternates between not-unpleasant watercolor paintings and what I believe to be green pencil drawings, though I'm not sure about the latter. Art majors, feel free to correct me!

I believe it's meant to represent a Ceratosaurus.

     Every creationist book on dinosaurs has some variation of this next image, because how could you not? Basically, it quotes a passage from the Job 40 that talks about the Behemoth, the mightiest of all land animals. All the creationist books I owned drew explicit comparisons between it and the sauropod family of dinosaurs. If you're coming from a creationist background, it's a very convincing argument. Like the book says, one could argue that it's talking about an elephant, though one would have to explain the verse about a "tail that sways like a cedar". Speaking of which, Mr. Ross includes an elephant here, which is given a shaggy coat of fur with no particular explanation. It bears a greater resemblance to an Asian Elephant than a Wooly Mammoth, though I wonder if this represents an early appearance of the creationist idea of created "kinds"? It would explain this creature's blended appearance, though no such reasoning is given in the text.

Behemothus biblicus

The Mysterious Wooly Elephant

     The next picture portrays a general Mesozoic menagerie, though I'm not sure what's up with that duck-billed sauropod in the background. We'll give Mr. Ross the benefit of the doubt and say it's a prescient depiction of the eventual discovery of Nigersaurus. And near the middle, we have the tree-climbing Hypsilophodon meme! At least I assume that's a Hypsilophodon, since it literally could not be any more of a "generic-small-dinosaur". Also, sad Triceratops is sad. I want to give him a hug. Perhaps the other kids made fun of his JP-Dilophosaurus frill.

Also, classic pancake-Ankylosaurus makes several appearances in this book.

      Now it's time for "Don't Mess With Armoured Dinosaurs", the PSA! We are treated to several scenes of well-endowed herbivores giving the mean old sharp-teeth a piece of their minds. Or horns. Whatever.

Queen Elizabeth the Third-Horned watches her loyal subject gore a vicious T-rex to death. He was probably a filthy Spaniard, anyway.

FSHWING!

I would seriously advise against any plan that in any way involves Turtle-Tank Ankylosaurus.

     I thought for sure this next image was more or less copied from some other source, but it seems to be more original than many vintage dinosaur books tend to be, since it doesn't seem to explicitly copy any pre-existing painting I can find, unless maybe it's the middle Trachodon in this piece by Zdeněk Burian. Incidentally, the genus "Trachodon" has since slipped into the territory of "nomen dubium", and the title of "generic duck-billed dinosaur" has since passed on to Anatosaurus and then Edmontosaurus, successively. The "duck-billed" hadrosaurs are no longer thought to have been aquatic either. Other than that, the illustration is pretty good for its time, especially in its depiction of hadrosaurs as being capable of both bipedal and quadrupedal movement.

I do rather like this picture, though.

      This next image is a little odd in its choice of dinosaurs, as they really should have appeared back a few pages ago. Psittacosaurus actually belongs with Triceratops and Styracosaurus (which I forgot to scan), as it hails from Ceratopsia, the family of horned dinosaurs (despite its lack of such ornaments). Pachycephalosaurus is distantly, distantly related to the Ceratopsians, and so would have been better to showcase earlier as well. Hey, at least they managed to get the distant relation between Ankylosaurus and Stegosaurus right! Also, the description of Pachycephalosaurus reeeally reminds you of how repetitive this book can be at times.

This boneheaded bonehead boneheadedly boneheaded his way into the Bonehead Club. He was a real bonehead.

      Now we get to the part all little kids wait for: the Meat-Eating Dinosaurs! The book chooses to focus only on "the two most interesting ones" (I would beg to differ), leading off with a rather triangle-faced Allosaurus contemplating a classically swamp-bound herd of sauropods. A rather common problem plaguing old paleoart is the scourge of the generic-o-pod, where unique, interesting features are obscured by artists simply paving them over in favor of easier-to-draw profiles. Thus, many kids (like me) grew up not realizing Allosaurus actually had admittedly small but still quite distinctive crests that really make it stand out next to the larger, supposedly cooler T-rex. Such is the case here.

"Ah! I am really enjoying this peaceful, introspective moment!"

      But what's this? Could Murder-Death-Kill Allosaurus have suddenly sprouted some lacrimal crests? It's hard to tell even with the book here in front of me, but it definitely looks like it has some little ridges on the sides of its still-misshapen head. YOUR PUNY BRONTOSAURUS IS NO MATCH FOR AWESOME-BRO ALLOSAURUS.

"LOL JK, I KEEL U NOW"

     Another well-known old paleoart curse is that nobody can ever quite seem to get the arms right on Tyrannosaurus rex. Here they seem to be sprouting from his jugular veins. Old Rexy gets no murder-death-kill scene of his own, having presumably used up his allotted screen-time getting stabbed and bashed by armored herbivores several pages ago.

"That looks pretty good. Coming out of the back of his neck there..."

     Next up we get to the mighty long-necked sauropods! We start off we a majestic portrait of... an oblivious sauropod having his tail bitten off. There's this old idea that dinosaur brains were so small, and their bodies so long, that they wouldn't have been able to process any signals coming from or going to the back half of their body, so they needed a "second brain" in their hips to help share the load. This has long since been disproven, but still pops up today, mostly famously in connection to Stegosaurus, though here we see it being demonstrated on an unsuspecting, tail-dragging Diplodocus (it was also referenced in the recent hit movie Pacific Rim). See this blog post over at Sauropod Vertebra Picture of the Week for further discussion of this idea. At least it's not slogging through a swamp as they were normally depicted!

"Duh, what?"

     We also get a star appearance by the great Brontosaurus! What's that? It's been Apatosaurus nearly a century now? Eh, it's okay. The book pays lip service to that, so they can go right back to calling it Brontosaurus. We also get a reappearance of the Paluxy human-dinosaur meme as a bonus.

That kid looks for all the world like he accidentally wandered in from an old-timey children's book on David and Goliath.

     Old Bronty of course spends all his time wading around in swamps, as do these somewhat Burian-inspired Brachiosaurs (with another nod to the secondary brain meme). The text states that its nostrils were positioned on top of its head, like a submarine we are informed, so that it could hide underwater from predators. Sauropods, Brachiosaurus especially, are now thought to have been so tall that the water pressure would have rendered them unable to expand their lungs should they have actually tried this strategy in real life, suggesting that they did not make a habit of setting up shop in deep water.

"The order ish, engage the shilent drive!"

      Speaking of Burian, this Iguanodon certainly owes a lot to his work, right down to the dewlap hanging below its neck. Most dinosaur books from this time period directly lifted this particular representation of Iguanodon from him, an image that dominated pretty much until the Dinosaur Renaissance finally took hold of pop culture. The text recounts the classic story of Gideon and Mary Ann Mantell's discovery of the original specimen. We also get a brief discussion of its hand spikes, here shown to be giving their typical approving thumbs up.

My scanner cut most of it off, but I love the little Iguana in the corner giving Iguanodon it the most adorable little brother look it can muster.

     Did I mention Generic-o-pods earlier? Sorry, that was somewhat unfair. HERE we see a group truly indistinguishably illustrated dinosaurs, identifiable only by the vaguest of references in the text. I'm guessing the one eating the lizard is Struthiomimus, since the text describes it as doing such, which maybe means the one next to it is Ornithomimus? The two in the middle are likely meant to be Comsognathus and Podokesaurus, though the perspective in the picture is such that their apparent small size may be misleading, and all four previously mentioned dinosaurs may in fact be interchangeable! We can be fairly certain the one on right right is meant to represent Oviraptor, however, caught red-handed in the act of stealing an egg, though we'd have no way of knowing otherwise since it's lacking its distinctive head crest. (This fact, among others, leads me to believe this book may have been an inspiration for much of the artwork here.) Oviraptor originally gained its reputation as an egg thief when it was discovered buried with a nest, apparently buried in the act of robbing the cradle. Later, CT scans revealed that the babies in side the eggs were in fact little Oviraptors themselves, meaning the adult was actually the mother, which, when you think about it, you have to wonder how that was not the initial conclusion in the first place. They text also mentions that though they look a bit like ostriches or chickens, they would have had leathery skin instead of feathers. We now know the opposite to be true. I should add that no matter what your orientation on creation vs evolution, there really is no question about whether certain dinosaurs had feathers. They did; though you don't have to take that as proof that they evolved into birds any more than fish evolved into reptiles because they both have scales. See my other blog post for more on this.

Struthiomimus and Ornithomimus, probably.

Probably Compsognathus and Podokesaurus, definitely Oviraptor.

     I hope nobody has been misinterpreting any jokes I've made as ragging on this book at all; this has actually all been fond memories so far. Unfortunately, we now come to an illustration that I am rather angry about these days.
     It purports to disprove the evolutionary theory that dinosaurs evolved into birds by pointing out that birds are thought to have arisen among the Saurischian ("lizard-hipped") dinosaurs rather than the Ornithschian ("bird-hipped") dinosaurs. However, Deinonychus, the raptor dinosaur that got the whole birds-are-dinosaurs movement going, HAS BIRD-LIKE HIPS, despite otherwise clearly belonging to the Saurischian family. In fact, these bird-like hips are one of the biggest reasons its discoverer suggested the bird connection in the first place.
     I really don't think I can make any excuse for the author here, because if they knew about the Bird-o-saur theory, they should have known about Deinonychus. At best, the benefit of the doubt grants them only inexcusable ignorance about the claims they're making. This Saurischian vs. Ornisthschian line stuck around much longer than it should have as well, as we shall see in a future post.
     I don't want to dwell much more on this. There are decent reasons to dispute the idea that dinosaurs evolved into birds, but hips are not among them. Let this be a plea for honesty and fact-checking lest you drive away the very people you're attempting to reach. After all, how do you think I felt when I realized I had made it to 24 years old not realizing the misleading nature of this image?

Sigh. I promise I'm done now.

     But enough of that. Let's turn our attention back to more light-hearted matters. This next image is laughably wrong, but in a much more constructive way. The function of the head crests in many species of duck-billed hadrosaurs often found itself the topic of discussion among paleontologists back in the day. Similar to the periscoping Brachiosaurs from earlier, one early idea stated that perhaps dinosaurs like Parasaurolophus used their crests as snorkels to breathe while hiding from predators underwater. I would hazard a guess that this, combined with their distinctive snouts, is the reason why hadrosaurs were so consistently depicted as swimmers, despite the fact that the absence of air holes in the crests quickly disproved the snorkeling theory. The mystery appeared solved when an experimenter made a cast of the nasal passages in the crest and blew air through them, producing a trumpet-like sound, leading to the now generally accepted theory that hadrosaurs used their crests to amplify their voices. Our delightful little book here has other ideas however. BEHOLD, THE MIGHTY FIRE-BREATHING PARASAUROLOPHUS!!!

FWOOSH!

     I love this image (which ended up becoming a persistent creationist meme, as we'll see in later books), and always found it rather inspiring as a child. I imagine everyone can see the appeal in the idea that dragon legends were inspired by relict populations of dinosaurs. The book spends a weird amount of energy explaining this idea, too. Seriously: it devotes six whole pages to this one idea, two of which are nearly all text! In a children's book! No other concept in this tome receives such detailed treatment. And sadly for Parasaurolophus draconis up there, it has zero anatomical basis. Oh sure, a similar phenomenon exists among the Bombardier Beetles, as the book wastes plenty of time pointing out, but nothing about hadrosaur skeletal anatomy suggests such a feature. The nasal passages are just that: long straight airways from the nose to the back of the throat. No side chambers for the storing or mixing of volatile chemicals. Even if such structures existed as soft-tissue features in the throat, the chemicals or fumes would have to travel through the entire length of the crest in order to be expelled onto the intended target. This would leave precious little time for other things, like, oh, I don't know, breathing. Such a feature would be much more likely on an otherwise much more "generic" or "boring" dinosaur, one which we would likely never suspect based on only dry bones. Still, it's a nice idea.

Plus this Bombardier Beetle cartoon is kinda funny, I guess.

     After that, it's on to the obligatory denouement of all dinosaur books: why did those grand old reptiles ever go extinct? The answer provided by this book is of course the Great Flood, AKA Noah's Flood. While dinosaurs are suggested to have been on Noah's Ark, the book speculates the subsequent Ice Age would have killed them all off. There's a sparse bit of impressionistic landscape artwork that I didn't feel like scanning, although there was a decent looking Chasmosaurus skull in one of them. Oh well. I'm feeling too lazy to do it now. In any case, we close with this final image, comforting us with the idea that perhaps maybe we should be glad that dinosaurs no longer live among us after all.

Um, what?!? I BEG TO DIFFER.

     Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Please comment below if you have any questions about anything, even if it wasn't necessarily in the book. I know you'll all keep a civil tongue. ;)

UPDATE (11/18/2015):
     I have a new blog now titled Stuckasaurus, where I've recently review the 1992 "reboot" of this book titledDinosaurs by Design. Click for Part 1 and Part 2. Give it a look!

On Cynicism

     Unwarranted cynicism has always bothered me. It often appears as an unwillingness to try new things, but I find that by far its most irksome manifestation is criticism born of unfamiliarity.

     To begin unpacking this idea, let's start with an immediately accessible example: movie special effects (for the purposes of this article, I would regard video game graphics as interchangeable here). Now, no movie may be excused for not using the resources it has to their fullest effect. But did you catch the keywords there? There are two operating principles to keep in mind: available resources and fullest effect. You can pick on the ridiculous visuals in crappy man-in-suit monster movies all you like (and be fully justified in doing so), but anybody who regards a movie (especially a classic) solely on the merits of its special effects completely misses the whole point of the entire movie experience. At the end of the day, a movie's purpose is NOT to convince you that they took the camera out and filmed the whole thing exactly as it appears onscreen. We will always know that what we're seeing on the screen isn't real, no matter how good the effects get. A movie's purpose is to convey some truth (or at least an emotional experience) by way of an engrossing narrative. It fulfills the exact same cultural function as campfire stories of ye olden days; the pretty moving pictures are there as a visual aid, to help us keep up with the story. Stage theater buffs don't generally complain about lack of immersion if all they have are cardboard sets; when seeing a good performance, they meet the actors halfway and get caught up in the story anyway. You can also look at the differing pop culture receptions of the two Star Wars trilogies for the perfect example of the interplay between story and visuals.

     Let's go a little more abstract now. Stylistic differences present another major stumbling block to many movie goers. Now, I regard myself as having a relatively wide range of tastes in movies, so it astounds me to see people polarize themselves to the extent that a mere premise or even genre attached to a film can cause immediate disdain. (Admittedly I retain such biases in some arenas, though I'm doing my best to break of those remaining mental habits!) Oscar snobs will turn up their noses at what they see as "Big Dumb Movies", and action movie junkies will be bored to tears in the absence of explosions. Both these attitudes result from a failure to understand the actual intentions of the movies that exist on the opposite ends of the spectrum. On one end, some movies endeavor to examine the human condition, while on the other hand, some are about pure, simple, cathartic release. Some try for something in the middle, while some try to take you along the y-axis in a completely different direction. Ultimately, style and genre are exactly the same as special effects. It's not what you use, it's how you use it. If it's done in service to the narrative, and you make the absolute most of it that you can in service to the story, then you're justified in using whatever you want.

     I've mostly been discussing movies in this blog post, so I apologize if a sudden turn for the philosophic seems a bit jarring. It seems to me that certain common strains of cynicism can be addressed by simply coming to a better realization of how certain things are meant to work. Marriage, though rife with its periodic difficulties, really does not seem all that hard to get a grasp of, at least on a foundational level (and once you've got a solid foundation, dealing with the big blunders and daily annoyances seems almost a breeze, at least once you've worked through them!). One simply needs to keep a few simple things in mind when considering marriage: it is a personal and economic union that leads to a certain melding of lives, it is not a 50/50 but a 100/100 sort of affair (that is, both halves contribute as much as they possibly can to the relationship, whether it works out to be exactly equal or not), and above all, to remember that humans are complex sacks of emotions that don't necessarily think or act in an entirely logical or consistent manner. We all have reasons for doing things we that we can't quite explain. By all means, vent your frustrations (as kindly as possible), but let them flow through you and over you, like water off a duck's back. Don't let it stick. This all leads to a greater understanding of not only your partner, but also of how marriage in and of itself is supposed to work. In my experience, once you understand something, even if you can never quite fix it, cynicism has much less room to take hold.

     I apologize again if religion is a road you weren't expecting to go down here, but I'm going to talk about it anyway. I'm not arguing for anything in particular in any case, just a little understanding. One sees a lot of criticism of religion by those who don't understand it, and want to condemn it as illogical. To that I say, they've missed the point, and have adopted a position of cynicism out of ignorance. At its barest, most utilitarian core, religion is about bringing a sense of peace and order to the tangled mess that is the human mind. (Understand that I am discussing religion here, not the existence of the supernatural.) As much as it is capable of great feat of intellect, the human mind is not the most logically-based construct ever. Too much emotions jumbles up the thought processes. To an "evangelical atheist" like Richard Dawkins, I would say that this is the very purpose that religion evolved for. Yes, you can have morality without religion, and yes, you can explain the universe without religion, but a great many people need religion to achieve that sense of peace and order out of the tangled mess of human experience that we all share in to some extent. Some don't need it, but many do. What do we achieve in attempting to disenfranchise people of the spiritual? Remember, humans are complex beings. If religion must be kept out of the classrooms, individuals can compartmentalize, as long as they have those compartments to retreat to as need be!

     It may sound a little cliche to say "we just need a little more understanding", but it's true, dang it! If you prefer to state it in a somewhat less sappy and more analytical manner, you just need to learn the rules of the game. If you approach baseball with only an understanding of water polo, you're naturally going to run into your fair share of frustration. Once you understand generally how something is actually meant to work, you then get that little light in your head that potentially allow you to actually enjoy it, or at least appreciate it and properly evaluate it for what it's trying to do.

A Saurian Survey in Two Parts (Part 1)

A Brief History of the Practice and Perception of Paleontology

     I originally sat down to write about all sorts of exciting new things that are happening in the world of Paleontology today (at least as it concerns dinosaurs), but I found myself continually hearkening back to previous generations of dinosaur paleontology and pop culture for points of reference, to the point where the article began to seem a little unapproachable to people who do not read as much about the subject as I do.  Therefore, I decided to go whole-hog on all the historical stuff and break my blog post into two parts.  Now, understand that this by no means represents a comprehensive history of paleontology as a whole, or even dinosaur paleontology in particular (and of course, for simplicity's sake I will mostly be focusing on dinosaurs here).  I am simply attempting to provide any of you newcomers with some basic information to (begin to) understand my long-winded ramblings later on.  If you are not interested in a history lesson, you can skip straight to my other post by clicking here, though I would encourage you to read this as I am desperate to talk your ears off about dinosaurs find this kind of stuff very fascinating, and it might help to make my inane ramblings a little less incoherent to you!

     As I thought about this subject, I noticed that there are three helpful perspectives to approach the history of paleontology from, each of which I will examine in turn.  First comes the actual science of Paleontology: the study of the fossils and the dialogue of the scientists conducting the studies.  Next comes the field of Paleoart; that is, art developed in relatively close association with the science of paleontology for the purpose of representing extinct creatures as accurately as possible.  Finally, we come to the realm of pop culture's perception of paleontology, comprised of the myriad sources from which the general public forms its picture of life in the past.

     In looking at these three points of view as they appear over time, it seems to me that the history of dinosaur paleontology can divided into four general eras.  As I've categorized them, they proceed as follows (all time frames are very loosely defined and may overlap more than is indicated):
- The Mantell/Owens Era (1820's-1870's)*
- The Age of Charles Knight (1870's-1970's)*
- The Dinosaur Renaissance (1970's-1990's)
- The "All Yesterdays Movement" (early 2000's)
*(Note: As only the latter two eras seem to have popular names ascribed to them, I have referred to the first two by what I consider to be the most significant people attached to them.)

The Mantell/Owens Era

She sells seashells by the seashore.

     We start, appropriately enough, with the beginning of the discipline.  The science of Paleontology got its start thanks to the individual efforts of an ensemble cast of professional and amateur fossil hunters.  Many view Georges Cuvier as the father of paleontology, as he was one of the earliest to recognize and advocate the idea that species go extinct, and that most of the fossil record records creatures that do not live anywhere on earth today.  His work fed a growing fascination with the fossil record around the beginning of the 18th Century, inspiring many fossil collectors to go searching for the fantastic remains of long vanished creatures.  Mary Anning became famous for her discoveries of Icthyosaurus and countless other prehistoric marine life, including fossil shellfish, inspiring a certain popular tongue-twister (Dinosaur Fact Finder, p. 11).  The first true dinosaur was discovered in 1822 by Mary Anne Mantell, whose husband Gideon Mantell was an avid fossil collector (Nat. Geo. Dinosaurs, p. 26).  After consulting with Cuvier, he realized the fossils were something unique, and named it Iguanodon, after its iguana-like teeth.  After the discovery of several species of similar creatures, Sir Richard Owen coined the term "Dinosauria" to describe this new order of animals (Dinosaur Encyclopedia p. 9).

     As paleontology had just come onto the scene, paleoart and pop-culture were pretty closely aligned during this era (as far as I can tell, anyway).  Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins stands as the defining artist of this time period.  Collaborating with Sir Richard Owen, he oversaw the construction of 33 life-size concrete models of prehistoric creatures for the Great Exhibition of London in 1850-51.  They still stand today in Crystal Palace Park (Nat Geo Dinosaurs p. 27).  Obviously, many discoveries have been made since this time, and these sluggish, elephantine lizards are outdated beyond comment, so I won't bother with that here, though they still have a craftsmanship about them that is pleasing to the eye.

Sir Richard Owen famously hosted a dinner party inside one of the partially-completed Iguanodons before they were put on display.

The Crystal Palace Dinosaurs as they stand today. Pictured: two Iguanodons.

The Age of Charles Knight
      Dinosaurs and other prehistoric beasts quickly became a sensation with the public.  Museums and paleontologists began racing to top one another with the most spectacular finds in the world. This did not always promote good science, unfortunately.  Beginning in 1877, Edward Drinker Cope and Charles Othniel Marsh entangled themselves in a bitter struggle that quickly became known as "The Bone Wars" (Nat Geo Dinosaurs, p. 28).  Though they started out as colleagues, from the time Marsh pointed out that Cope had accidentally reconstructed Elasmosaurus with its head attached to its tail, they remained bitter enemies till the day they died (Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs, p. 11).  As they took to the field in attempt to top each other with increasingly impressive finds, they would send spies to report on each other's campsites, plant false information about their movements, and re-bury fossils so they couldn't scoop each other's discoveries.  Violent fights broke out between their teams, and they even used dynamite on not only each other but even their own sites, just so they couldn't steal from each other!  While all this unhealthy competition did spur the discovery of many countless specimens (including most of the most popular prehistoric creatures we know and love today), the horrific mess created by their constant meddling with the data still remains to be completely sorted out today, nearly 150 years after the fact.  For example, given their penchant for naming "new" specimens at the drop of a hat, they managed to "discover" and rename the same species of Uintahtherium about 20 times between them. This heated feud was also responsible for the creation of "Brontosaurus", which was invented when a missing head allowed Cope & Marsh to assume they'd found a unique long-necked dinosaur (the correct name is Apatosaurus, by the way).  For more information on The Bone Wars, see the PBS documentary "Dinosaur Wars".

     In the wake of this debacle, public interest began to wane somewhat after seeing the excess of these events.  Fortunately, this encouraged greater scientific diligence, and the field of paleontology regained some of its respectability, although the expeditions of Roy Chapman Andrews to Mongolia's Gobi Desert still retained a bit of the grandiose adventuring that Cope and Marsh doubtless saw in themselves.

True Comics, No. 81, February 1950

     I mentioned with the title of this section that was the Age of Charles Knight.  Charles Knight represents perhaps the single most influential paleoartist of all time, perhaps rivaled only by Greg Paul.  His work is instantly recognizable to even the most casual of dinosaur enthusiasts, and he is frequently cited by modern paleoartists as a chief inspiration (Dinosaur Art, p. 44, 64).  Though the dinosaurs he depicts are now out of date, his skills as an artist first and foremost more than make up for this deficiency.  Despite the now-silly appreance of some of them, he nevertheless executed his craft with such skill that many of them still stand up to scrutiny today.  Scientific accuracy aside, all his paintings retain a vivid beauty that still catches the eye today.

Leaping Laelaps, 1897, arguably Knight's most popular work.

Tylosaurus, 1899

"Trachodon", another iconic Knight piece

     Knight doesn't completely rule the party however, and Zdenek Burian and Rudolph Zallinger are also often mentioned in the same breath as Knight (Dinosaur Art, p. 64).

Iguanodon, by Burian. Compare with Waterhouse Hawkin's Crystal Palace Iguanodon above.

The Age of Reptiles, Zallinger's famous mural for the Yale Peabody Museum

     With the dawn of the 20th Century, we now come into an era where we have a substantial pop culture dinosaur tradition significantly divorced from scientific and paleoart influence.  Jules Verne's novel Journey to the Center of the Earth featured various prehistoric animals trapped in the fantastical caverns below the earth's surface.  One of the first major works of pop culture involving dinosaurs proper was The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (also the author of Sherlock Holmes), about an expedition to a South American plateau wherein many ancient creatures survive in the modern era.  The Lost World was very popular in its time, and went on to inspire a whole genre of "lost world" stories.

     With the invention of motion pictures, dinosaurs had a chance to truly shine in the public sphere and thoroughly capture the general public's imagination.  One of the first animated cartoons, in fact, involved a dinosaur named Gertie who appeared to interact with her live-action human master.



     A feature film adaptation of The Lost World followed in the 1925 (click here to watch it on Youtube!), but the ultimate feature event that cast its shadow over the rest of the century came in 1933, with the release of King Kong. Although the eponymous giant ape is familiar the world over today, many fondly remember his life-or-death battles with the dinosaurs that also inhabited his remote island home.

Since King Kong, giant apes and dinosaurs have often found themselves thrown together by pop culture.

    A slew of B-movie schlock followed for most of the rest of the century, unfortunately, with so-called "dinosaurs" often being represented by men in suits or lizards with horns glued to their bodies. A few bright points shone out of this period though.  One was the Rite of Spring portion of Walt Disney's Fantasia (1940), which contained many of the dinosaur memes paleo enthusiasts will be familiar with.  The king of this period, however, was Ray Harryhausen, a protege of the special effects lead on King Kong.  Harryhausen's stop-motion animation raised the artform to new levels, and though the films he worked on were sadly often regarded as silly wastes of time, his work on them has been and continues to be highly praised to this day.  In addition to fantasy films like Clash of the Titans, he also worked on such films as the 1966 remake of One Million Years B.C. and 1969's The Valley of Gwangi, both of which heavily featured some pretty convincing special effects.  The combined influence of King Kong and Ray Harryhausen set the standard by which all dinosaurs were represented in popular culture for nearly the entire 20th Century.

Yes, THAT One Million Years B.C.

Oh, MAN, how I wish I could find a video of this scene! Seriously, if you can, go watch this movie, if only for the scene where the cowboys lasso Gwangi the Allosaurus into submission. It's incredible the way Harryhausen made them seem like they were really sharing the same space!

The Dinosaur Renaissance

John Ostrom with Deinonychus

     Now we come to what most of my readers will likely regard as the modern era.  In 1964, John Ostrom discovered a new dinosaur he named Deinonychus antirrhopus.  Almost from the beginning, he could see that this creature was clearly drastically different from the images of dinosaurs on everybody's mind at that time.  Rather than a slow, bulky monster dragging its tail on the ground, here was a swift, alert predator that balanced on two legs with its tail in the air, chasing and slashing at its prey with an over-sized claw on each foot.  This forced a drastic reassessment of everything that had been taken for granted at that point.  Through further study, Ostrom concluded that Deinonychus had more in common with birds than lizards, and that this similarity might extend to other dinosaurs as well.  His then-student, Robert Bakker, was enamored with these ideas, and quickly became the figurehead of the so-called "Dinosaur Renaissance".  In his landmark book, The Dinosaur Heresies, Bakker argued that not only were some dinosaurs bird-like, but all dinosaurs were active, capable, and even warm-blooded creatures, in direct contrast with everything that had been assumed about dinosaurs before.  Though there was fierce opposition to this idea at first, new evidence began pouring in that forced paleontologists to come around.  There was even evidence to refute the image of dinosaurs as constantly roving engines of death and destruction, as the more nurturing side of many dinosaurs came to light, with Jack Horner's discovery of Maiasaura nesting colonies.

     Paleoart experienced a similar revival as artist's imaginations were spurred by these new developments.  One of the earliest pieces of artwork that truly belonged to this era was drawn by none other than Bakker himself, featured in one of the early papers he and Ostrom collaborated on describing Deinonychus.

Ah! That's looking better!

However, artist Gregory S. Paul quickly rose to prominence as the true master of the Dinosaur Renaissance's portrayel in the art world.  Working closely with Bakker, Paul eventually became an leading authority on dinosaurs himself.  He rigorously studied the skeletal material like no other artist before him, interpreting what he saw with a strict, empirical standard (Dinosaur Art, p. 44).  He is also popularly credited with producing the first illustration demonstrating the hypothesis that some dinosaurs were feathered, though he is quick to correct that assumption by pointing to artist Sarah Landry who illustrated a magazine article written by Bakker (Dinosaur Art, p. 41).

Syntarsus by Sarah Landry, with a nice little feathered mohawk. This quickly turned into a weird little paleo-meme.

I would go crazy posting examples of Greg Paul's artwork here, but he's notoriously protective of his work, so I'll just post the cover of his book and tell you to go buy it.

Well, maybe I'll risk his ire to post this T-rex pic.  Greg Paul popularized the practice of showing the full skeleton of a dinosaur surrounded by a black outline to represent its flesh.  Chances are if you see a picture like this, it's his.

Paleoart really blossomed in this era, with many excellent artists well-known among dinosaur enthusiasts.  Doug Henderson is another much loved artist who tends to surprisingly de-emphasize the supposed subjects of his work, creating a wonderfully haunting sense of the solitude of nature in his paintings.

Albertosaurus, by Henderson. Note how that large dinosaur remains dwarfed by the environment in which it dwells.

One unfortunate side effect of the otherwise beneficial extreme attention to skeletal details paid by paleoartists during this period is the appearance of the derogatorily-named "zombie dinosaurs", where every bone appears through their shrink-wrapped skin.  William Stout and Ely Kish are often cited as particular offenders in this regard, though both are otherwise excellent artists with great eyes for composition and scenery.

The pterosaur Quetzalcoatlus, by William Stout.

Dryptosaurus, by Ely Kish. This would be such a nice painting if not for those grotesquely skinny dinosaurs!

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy does it, Ms. Kish! These Diplodocus almost look dead!

     The fantastic images produced by this generation of paleoartists inspired all who saw their work, but they failed to make much impact on the popular culture at first.  For the first fifteen years or so of the Dinosaur Renaissance, pop culture clung stubbornly to the remains of Harryhausen's legacy, until a certain film based on a Michael Crichton novel burst onto the scene, and nearly overnight changed the way the public saw dinosaurs forever.

Life, um, finds a way...

Truly one of those once-in-a-lifetime occasions, Jurassic Park saw the light of day thanks to the efforts of a veritable dream team of who's-whos.  Everyone knows of director Steven Spielberg and composer John Williams, of course, but the dinosaurs would not have had nearly the effect the did if not for the effort of special effects gurus Stan Winston and Phil Tippit, as well as many of the key players of the Dinosaur Renaissance, including Robert Bakker, Jack Horner, and Greg Paul. (Incidentally, Greg Paul is responsible for a little pop culture quirk that continues to this day. He had been arguing that Deinonychus antirrhopus was really just a larger breed of the three-foot tall Velociraptor mongoliensis, and thus should be named Velociraptor antirrhopus.  Most scientists have since disagreed with this, but Paul's vision made it into the movie, and thus the creature that most people picture as Velociraptor is actually Deinonychus.)  The impact Jurassic Park had on pop culture hardly needs cataloging. Several sequels followed, as well as Disney's Dinosaur in 2000 and Peter Jackson's 2005 remake of King Kong.

The "All Yesterdays" Movement
     Some might disagree that the modern era of paleontology should be considered anything other than a continuous part of the Dinosaur Renaissance. However, Jurassic Park defined and enshrined the current science of its day in such a manner as to crowd out all other visions, erasing the visions of over a century before it and casting a blind spot (in the public's eye) of any new visions that came immediately after it.  Pop culture is still stuck with the images of Jurassic Park: the new ideas and discoveries that have occurred since that time of been largely ignored by the public, even as science and paleoart march on.  Thus, on the basis of pop culture alone, I feel comfortable setting apart the last decade or so from the true Dinosaur Renaissance.

     What sets this era aside, then?  Well, that is a subject for another post. Click here for my next topic, on the post-Jurassic Park era and The "All Yesterdays" Movement! If you would like a hint, it has to do with the biggest revolution to happen since Jurassic Park: the discovery of feathered dinosaurs!

Sinosauropteryx, discovered in 1996, the first feathered dinosaur known to science.

A Saurian Survey in Two Parts (Part 2)

The "All Yesterdays Movement" and the Ghosts of Jurassic Park

Note:     When I originally sat down to write this post I got carried away in my excitement and made it probably just a bit way too esoteric for some of my readers.  I decided to remedy this by splitting the post into two parts; one where I could get down to the essence of what I really wanted to talk about, and another to give you a bit of a primer on the History of Dinosaur Paleontology.  Click the link if you'd rather read that first (I'd recommend it: that way I can make all sorts of allusions down the line that might otherwise leave you scratching your head).

     So apparently someone named Colin Trevorrow has been name as the director for Jurassic Park 4, and recently tweeted that feathered dinosaurs would not be appearing in the movie.  This has become a rather polarizing issue among fans.  I can understand the sentiment behind it if the basis of this decision had been to keep a consistent aesthetic for the movies, but considering that the production teams haven't shied away from some tweaking of the dinosaurs' appearances before, the rationale behind the decision appears more likely to be to pander to the unfortunately large number of people who think feathered dinosaurs are lame.  Setting aside the question of whether we really need ANOTHER Jurassic Park movie, I feel as though this contradicts the entire point of the series in its original inception.  The first movie was about two things (three if you count "life finds a way"): "Holy crap, real dinosaurs!" and "HOLY CRAP REAL DINOSAURS"!  Yes, they're all popcorn flicks, but the first movie at least (and the second, I would argue) at least were dedicated to both convincing special effects, and introducing the public to the most realistic and current portrayal of dinosaurs yet seen on film.  It's well known that the big names of the Dinosaur Renaissance were on hand to lend their expertise in making Jurassic Park scientifically credible.  While it takes some good-natured but undeserved flak for what we have since come to recognize as inaccuracies, the fact is we'd probably still be dealing with Ray Harryhausen-style monstrosities in pop-culture were it not for Jurassic Park definitively banishing that outdated image.

Not that Harryhausen himself wasn't a special effects master; but the dinosaurs definitely show their age, so to speak.

      Most of Jurassic Park's detractors really seem to be reacting more to the fact that the general public still seems to be stuck back in the '90's rather than truly complaining about the movie's outdated information.  Sadly, Jurassic Park seems to have fallen victim to itself, content to float in the currents of pop culture rather than direct them as it once did.

     Meanwhile, dinosaurs have continued to undergo a revolution every bit as significant as the Dinosaur Renaissance of the '70's-'90's that the original Jurassic Park triumphantly heralded.  Building off of the work of Renaissance figureheads such as Dr. Bob Bakker, Dr. Jack Horner, and artist Gregory S. Paul, dinosaur paleontology is heading in all sorts of new I am positively bursting to go blabbering on about.

     First of all, the big one.  YES.  DINOSAURS HAD FEATHERS.  Most of the theropods (that's carnivores, to you) did at least, likely even Tyrannosaurus itself.  There is much resistance to this idea in some circles.  I've already mentioned the "chicken-o-saurs are totes lame, dude" crowd, but many creationist organizations of taken up the anti-feather banner as well (though to their credit, there are a few that have the right attitude).  ICR put out an article a while ago desperately claiming that most of the purported examples of dinosaur feathers really just represent impressions of rotted, shredded skin. The bad news for all these people is that the evidence is undeniable, and they just look like fools for resisting it.

Caudipteryx: Note the flightless wings and tail feathers.

 Achiornis: with a lovely wing and head crest.

Downy feathers on the tail of Yutyrannus, a half-sized relative of T-rex.

      I understand why such people resist, but the good news is, these issues behind these objections should be easy to address (though it's always difficult to change one's perception on anything).  For Creationists feathered dinosaurs represent a looming, frightful symbol of Evolution.  But no good reason for this exists; if both fish and lizards have scales, does that prove evolution any more or less than feathered dinosaurs?  Denying the evidence of feathers only appears to support the claims of evolutionists that creationists are anti-science, so if you hope to remain at all relevant in scientific spheres, get over it.
     As for the bros in the feathers-are-lame camp, their opposition becomes understandable when you see some of the atrocious artwork that for whatever reason they always seem to run into.

GAH! It's scary, but not in a good way.

DERP.

 The solution to this one is obvious: find better pictures!  And if you work for a printing company, hire better artists for your publications that actually care about their work!  Anyway, how about instead of over-sized turkeys, we think of dinosaurs more as angry killer ostriches, or better yet, giant birds of prey.  Nobody thinks eagles are lame.

Anyway, as usual, xkcd has come to the rescue of us science lovers with this little comic strip:

Click the link up above if you're having trouble seeing this image.

Now, doesn't that sound like the Velociraptor we all know and love?  I like the way this painting illustrates the scene envisioned by that new paper:

Deinonychus Prey Restraint by Emily Willoughby

Just in case you need to see that in living color, here's a video of a secretary bird doing essentially the same thing.  Just try to imagine it with saw blade teeth and giant sickle-shaped flensing knives for claws.



     Starting to sound a little more respectable, right?  Now, one of the coolest things about this whole feather revolution is that paleontologists have been able to analyze the feather remains and imprints for trace chemicals that can actually reveal what color these dinosaurs were!  Here's an image of Microraptor, a four-winged dinosaur actually capable of limited flight (and yes, it's actually a raptor dinosaur complete with teeth and sickle-claws, not just a bird).  Scientists have found pigment molecules suggesting that in life it was an iridescent black, like a blackbird or raven.

Microraptor, by Mick Ellison

More impressive perhaps is Anchiornis, which had enough lingering pigment molecules that paleontologists were able to obtain a reasonably complete picture of the full pattern of colors in its feathers.  Take a look at this picture and let it sink in: this is probably the most accurate representation of a dinosaur you will ever see until the invention of time travel.

Quick plug: Julius Csotonyi's Anchiornis appears on page 15 of Dinosaur Art: The World's Greatest Paleoart. Go buy it now.

     Feathers also help explain another little dinosaur mystery: the existence of Arctic and Antarctic Dinosaurs. While global temperatures were indeed higher during the Mesozoic Era than they are today, it was still cold enough at the poles to snow and ice over during the winter months. Seasonal migration offers one solution to how dinosaurs might have survived at these latitudes, but scientists have reason to believe several species remained at the poles year-round. Hibernation might also provide some survival benefit, but large species likely found it difficult to locate any shelter large enough to hide in. Now that we know that most theropods and at least some other types of dinosaurs had some degree of feathers, the existence of Arctic dinosaurs begins to make more sense. A nice feather coat does wonders to keep you warm!

Long Jurassic Nights, by Chasmosaur on Deviantart, featuring Cryolophosaurus, an Antarctic carnivore

Mark Witton's controversial fuzzy Pachyrhinosaurus herd

     At this point, it's tempting to think that we might be at a point where we can know with absolute certainty what a dinosaur looked like and maybe even how it behaved.  Alas, the truth is that paleotology is the ultimate cold case, and there will always be unknowns, forever outside our scope.  Oddly enough, however, this is where an exciting new trend picks up.  Past generations have always had a somewhat tenuous relationship with the idea of what we can and can't know.  I remember plenty of dinosaur books that would say something along the lines of "Maybe dinosaurs could have had/done X. We'll never know", and then they'd promptly forget this token acknowledgement of the unknown and continue aping all the old paleoart memes as if they were definitive.  Over the last decade or so, though, there has been increasing engagment with concepts that are not just hypothetical, but often inherently unknowable.  But that's OK!  By seriously entertaining such hypotheticals, it opens our minds to new lines of inquiry, and sometimes those unknowables become a little more tangible after all.  Last year, artist John Conway released a book entitled All Yesterdays: Unique and Speculate Views of Dinosaurs and Other Prehistoric Animals, which directly engages in this type of thought, portraying dinosaurs in unusual (even outlandish) yet not necessarily inaccurate ways.  In a similar vein to the speculative portrayals, Conway also has taken a unique approach to the artwork itself. 

"I felt like the writing was on the wall when I saw Jurassic Park.  If we can make dinosaurs that look one hundred percent real, where does that leave artists?  Well, it leaves them in the realm of art, strangely enough!  So I've alway felt moving towards super-realism is contrary to what I do and strategically a dead end." 

• John Conway, Dinosaur Art, p. 148

A family of Protoceratops climbs a tree despite having no obvious adaptations to do so, similar to goats of today.

     (EDIT: I have it now and it is awesome!) As of this writing, I myself do not yet have the book (though I am desperate to get my hands on it), and yet it has made such a splash among dinosaur enthusiasts that I have been converted to its ideals.  In fact, such has the impact been among dinosaur enthusiasts that many have retroactively applied the term "the All Yesterdays Movement" to the growing paradigm that has come into being since the latter days of the Dinosaur Renaissance. Mark Witton can be counted among this group, having caused a bit of a stir with that picture of the fuzzy Pachyrhinosaurs up there. With ceratopsians, we have skin impressions, but for the most part they show only scales. However, we do have some specimens that have preserved a row of quills along the tail. In addition, Witton argues in the blog post accompanying the image that feathers could have easily fallen out of the skin before preservation, again playing into the "All Yesterdays"-style notion that there may not be a single definitive image we can make of any dinosaur species.

Four Pachyrhinosaurus, by StygimolochSpinifer on DeviantArt. Inspired by Mark Witton's post, this image displays the same species of ceratopsian dinosaur with several degrees of featheredness and nakedness.

     Incidentaly, I've managed to keep up with all this thanks to another wonderful development in the world of dino-nuts: the Rise of the Paleoblog.  Not only stuff for mere enthusiasts like the fantastic Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs, but the scientists themselves are directly engaging with what can only be described as their fans through sites such as Dave Hone's Archosaur Musings,  Pseudoplocephalus, and Sauropod Vertebra Picture of the Week. Oh, and John Conway happens to have a website of his own. And if you happen to be worried about whether that dinosaur toy you're buying for your kid is scientifically acceptable or not, don't worry, the reviewers on The Dinosaur Toy Blog will make sure you never buy another horrendously inaccurate dinosaur toy again!  Also, I love that the niche-creating powers of the Internet allow for this awesome 9-year-old's blog to exist. How cool is that?

     Well, this certainly turned out to be a big post. Sorry if this nerd-o-rama made your brain hurt, but if you know anything about me, you should have known what you were getting into the moment you saw the word "Dinosaur" on your screen!  Paleontology is in a really cool place right now (not only with dinosaurs, but since they're the most well known, we'll leave things here for now), and I'm disappointed that the "All Yesterdays Movement" has yet to make much headway into pop culture and banish the ghosts of Jurassic Park (aside from a few so-so documentaries).  If I could have it my way, rather than dragging outdated models into the domain of the new paradigm, we would have new fantasies on screen every bit as fresh and rigorous as the art of John Conway and all the other dedicated people helping to usher in the new era.

Troodon formosus under a Magnolia by John Conway

Yutyrannus by Brian Choo

In Which I Attempt to Write About Gender

This is almost certainly way over my head, but I'd like to share some general musings on gender roles in modern American culture. I freely admit that I am rather out of practice in the art of writing, and my own thoughts on this issue have not completely coalesced at this point, so forgive any inadequacies of this post, as I am attempting to make a habit of writing about random topics that flit through my mind. (I suppose I might have done better to stick to what I know and write about dinosaurs or something, but you never get better unless you push yourself, so here we are.)

Traditional gender roles have been in a state of transition for some time now, particularly over the course of the last century. Whatever its shortcomings, real or perceived, the feminist movement does in fact deserve much of the credit for balancing the fortunes of the two sexes. In fact, I have increasingly discovered that the current form of feminism that's in vogue amongst my generation conforms rather closely to my idea of gender equality (though of course no ideology is one-size-fits-all, and I am disappointed that the current-wave feminism seems to fail to recognize that most of its detractors are actually reacting previous, more extremist waves that they are too reluctant to distance themselves from).

In my own life situation, I have currently accepted the position of stay-at-home husband while my wife provides for us. Though this is partly due to circumstance, we have long taken it as a point of fact that even were I to have a steady income, it would likely always be supplemental to hers, as "medical professional" tends to trump many others careers. One seems to come across couples like us with increasing regularity these days. One of the inspirations for this piece was a series of TED talks I recently watched which dealt with these issues (and if you will indulge me, I will be freely referencing them from here on out. Make sure to click the links as I provide them!)

In Hannah Rosin's talk New Data on the Rise of Women, the speaker examines how the fundamental shift from a labor-based to a service-based economy has drastically altered the job market. Where once a strong body and a good work ethic were the extent of the qualifications for the average job, personal strength has been supplanted by education, networking, interpersonal social skills, and multitasking. On the whole, this shift has favored women while beginning to leave men lagging behind. With this shift in preferred workplace aptitude comes  a shift in the economic potential for young men and women, and thus a shift in attitudes towards their ideal home structure. According to Rosin, women are now more likely to expect to assume the role of primary wage earner while their husbands (if they even take on at all) work part-time or even stay at home.

Why are men lagging behind though? Why not a shift towards simple equality? While one can argue for (or against) inherent gender traits that affect aptitude, Philip Zimbardo (in The Demise of Guys?) argues that in any case, the aforementioned critical interpersonal skills required for the modern public sphere have declined to artificially low levels among young men. This group has seen a rise in social awkwardness: a basic lack of understanding of the verbal and nonverbal rules and skills that enable comfortable, healthy interaction with other people. Zimbardo attributes this to what he calls "Arousal Addiction", that is to say, addiction to empty novelty (not necessarily though certainly including sexual arousal). Arousal addiction is characterized by excessive consumption of video games, internet, and pornography, all of which offer easy reward with minimal effort. This "digital re-wiring of the brain" in favor of these cheap thrills desynchronizes young males from traditional social settings. Their predilection towards electronic, active, and immediate forms of consumption leaves them ill suited for traditional school classes, which are analog, static, and passive. Relationships (both romantic and otherwise) also suffer, as they tend to occur subtly and gradually, as opposed to the obvious and fast-paced entertainment they have acclimated themselves to.

How to deal with these changing climates? While there may be something to be said for changing classroom environments, I think the greatest good can be accomplished in the realm of popular media. While Colin Stokes' talk on How Movies Teach Manhood seemed a little disorganized, it touched on a few points I am passionate about, and got me thinking about other topics as well; so while I posted the link there, know that most of what I'm saying is more inspired by his talk than directly referencing it. In fact, much of what I'm going to mention is more aligned with Anita Sarkeesian's videos, the Lego series in particular (part 1 here and part 2 here). While gender roles have always had unequal portrayals in popular media, the case could be made that they at least tended to prepare one for the expectations of the time. With the changing social fabric, the pop culture seems to have some trouble in keeping up. While the portrayal of females has for the most part modeled good interpersonal interaction, that mostly sums up the extent their roles in many movies. Males on the other hand are allowed to do more, but are either portrayed as goofy and immature or gruffly serious, while portraying deeper social interaction as something to be regarded as awkward. Neither would seem to adequately prepare either gender for the current social & economic climate. (Note: while the "warrior princess" type character seems to be on the rise, she tends to be a gruff stoic, and thus essentially a man with boobs as far as characterization is concerned.) Popular media needs to re-evaluate its current definitions of manhood and womanhood to better suit modern times (and parents should do their best to expose their kids to more balanced portrayals of men and women). Colin Stokes offered the "Wizard of Oz" as an example a more well-rounded approach to personalities and group oriented problem solving, without falling back on stereotypes and "chosen one" plot lines (in direct contrast to films such as Stars Wars). I personally would point to "The Avengers" as possibly the best example from this year's crop of movies.

If you haven't clicked on any of those videos up there yet, shame on you for being lazy! Go watch them now! They all cover this topic much more effectively than I ever could. In fact, go ahead and spend the whole rest of the day just watching videos on TED.com if you have the time. It's packed full of fascinating lectures on pretty much every topic you could think of. Let me know what you think about this post! I would enjoy feedback on this stuttering attempt to get back into the practice of writing.