Het regent op de trein; ik ga naar Rotterdam. Het water loopt langs de ramen, op de andere kant van deze glazen wand. Ik denk aan mijn vriendin in Frankrijk. Zij gaat naar Mozambique rond de jaarwisseling met haar man, en vlak daarna gaat ze alleen naar Zuid-Amerika voor een 3-maanden zelfgeplande zelfbewustheidsonderzoek.
Zij heeft mij uitgenodigd naar haar verjaardagsfeestje in September. Zij wordt dertig. Ik ben blij, zelfs geëerd om haar als kennis te kunnen tellen. Toen wij elkaar ontmoeten, meer dan tien jaar geleden, wist zij nog niet precies wat zij met haar leven ging doen. Misschien ontwikkelingshulp in Afrika, iets over uitbreiden van telecomgebruik in de armste regio's van dit continent. Uiteindelijk is het een onopgeloste dualiteit geworden: een saaie werkleven in Parijs en een spannende reistocht door de derde wereld tijdens haar vrije tijd.
Wat haalt zij daarmee? Wat voor gevoelens krijg je als observerende, allemachtige toerist in een omgeving waar je eigenlijk niet bij hoort? Ik durf nog niet vragen, maar misschien doe ik dat over twee maanden.
Dertig. Op z'n dertigste hoort men te weten waarmee men zich bezig houdt. Of toch? Zoiets heb ik ooit gehoord. Genoeg om erover na te denken.
Feitelijk is dat de grootse leugen dat jongeren krijgen te horen totdat ze een duidelijke mening voor zichzelf onthullen. Deze leugen is een dreiging voor volgende generaties te slagen waar het ons niet gelukt is.
Toch heb ik er wel over nagedacht. De laatste tijd besefte ik dat ik twee fases in het leven kan herkennen.
Er komt ten eerste een tijd waar je de zekerheid hebt dat een vorm van ultieme "waarheid" bestaat. Deze zekerheid is intuïtief, zeer vroeg geleerd, en buiten bewustheid. Om deze waarheid te kunnen kennen is dan een "doel" waar iedereen op zoek naar blijkt te zijn, maar zonder het duidelijk te beseffen. Op deze fase begrijp je ook intuïtief dat er ergens iemand bestaat die deze waarheid kunt herkennen, als het ooit bereikt wordt. Misschien ben jij dat mens niet, maar toch moet je blijven doorzoeken. Kort gezegd, wordt er bewusteloos aangenomen dat het ideaal van Plato ergens bestaat, en dat die uiteindelijk uitgevonden moet worden. De kern van deze ingeving is dat de uitvinding überhaupt mogelijk is, als natuurlijke en onontkoombare gevolgen van universele toenemende kennis.
Op zoek naar het ideaal, worden fouten gemaakt, vergist mens zich vaak op praktische punten. Ongeacht de obstakels, ontstaat optimisme (een vorm van intuïtieve geloof) als dreiging om door te gaan, kijkende naar een vage illusie van wat de ultieme waarheid zou moeten zijn — of echter, hoe het liever zou moeten zijn.
De intelligente mens ontwikkelt ook vaak — nog steeds onbewust — een strategie om zijn zoek te optimaliseren. Omdat de ultieme waarheid een gevolg is van de kennis, wordt er geleerd over de wereld, over filosofie, over de natuur, etc. Omdat er ook aangenomen wordt dat alle mensen in het verleden ook op zoek waren naar hetzelfde ideaal, wordt er ook diep in de geschiedenis gekeken, naar vergeten tekens van hypothetische eerdere successen.
Het keerpunt van deze fase gebeurt als men bewust wordt van dit zoekproces. De rationele mens moet zich dan twee vragen stellen met diepgaande gevolgen:
Geconfronteerd met die twee vragen, weet de leerzame mens al langs dat er geen bewijs en geen redenering nog bestaan die een rationele antwoord op deze vragen mogelijk maken.
Er zijn dan twee mogelijkheden. Men kunt dan zich bewust op zoek richten naar een antwoord op díe twee vragen. Zó wordt men actief filosoof. Of men kunt een antwoord op die vragen stellen; en zodra zo'n antwoord geformuleerd wordt, wat het precies bevat dan ook, wordt het een bewuste geloof. En zó wordt men actief spiritueel. Of misschien nog iets ergens tussenin, met een gestelde antwoord op een vraag en steeds (bewust) op zoek naar en antwoord op de tweede.
Zoals met liefde, lust, geboorte, en dood is deze bewustheid relatief onvoorstelbaar voor degene die het nog niet ervaren heeft. Zo begint iedere tweede fase in het leven: een grens tussen het "vóór" en het "na". En natuurlijk heeft die soort grens ook een invloed op de relaties binnen families en tussen vrienden.
Wij hebben waarschijnlijk met elkaar kennis gemaakt op onze fase zonder bewustheid. Hoe wordt het nu met jou? Ben je er al? En je vrienden? etc.
Het wordt gezegd dat het leven te kort is om telkens weer over z'n "eerste keer" te praten; toch vind ik het wel spannend.
“With great power comes great responsibility.”
It is not every day easy to be an adult. There was a time where I would wake up, serve myself a glass of vodka, and spend my time carelessly — taking the day as it came. Nowadays, a glass of vodka will make me remember for two days that my digestive tract is not in its prime condition any more. A matter-of-fact reminder of the unavoidability of time.
Growing older shifts concerns. These days, I am more often concerned with having to tread a balance carefully every moment of social life. Take an example: today, I heard the dreadful question: “what do you think about me?”
Being honest is easier when what you say is inconsequential. When mistakes are cheap and have little consequences. However, when closeness attaches extra value to sincerity, words become heavier with significance; they become gifted with the magic that will give their shape meaning beyond semantics — that same magic that shapes feelings and crystallizes them into monuments of actualization and everlasting bonding memories.
In those moments, even small mistakes will hurt deeply; although the “right thing” might merely be superficially constructive.
I dislike this situation. It forces me to think and judge real human beings (real, as opposed to those away and encapsulated by bits and waves), carefully and thoughtfully — and then share my thoughts openly and distinctly.
I never had the chance to be the recipient of such careful attention; to the contrary, I was hurt often by carelessness and mindlessness in the use of words that I allowed to carry magic into my direction. Without proper positive experience, I fear daily that I am not competent enough to act responsibly. Something about this: Whatever is hurtful to you, do not do to any other person. — or so I heard.
Seriously, why is it important to say more to friends than that you love them and that you are happy that they exist in your life?
Sometime this afternoon I will be standing before my stove, manipulating my pan hence and forth, shaking sizzling butter under layers of eggs, milk and flour. This cheerful self-entertainment, supported by adequate music, will further brighten my day already much enlightened by rest and peacefulness.
On my way to the kitchen, I will shed the last shadows of uncertainty about how to handle the drama evolving in my close environment in the past few weeks.
Off will go the worry that the neatest self-balance may hide a decreasing self-confidence and increasing loneliness, possibly exacerbated by a recent life event; off will go the worry that frustrated ambition and unshared social and cultural moral codes stand in the way of mutual understanding and cooperation; off will go the worry that distance and an idealistic longing for reduced world misery and inequality are creating heart ache otherwise sootheable by good company; off will go the worry that lack of “outside” experience and first-hand knowledge of social diversity may be active cause in uncertainty and procrastination; off will go the worry, lately acute, that limerence may impede constructive social development and life progression…
The cost of loving is empathy and shared aches; but why is it that I should feel as if I had a role to play besides acknowledging their personal situations? There is no problem in need to be solved, only individual life experiences to be supported — as time and opportunities allow, and not through the darkness of worries and stress. After all, the moral pressure I feel is my construction, since I am the only one to consider “us” family.
This was today's enlightenment. Drama has quickly followed television on the list of things I have decided long ago to do without. Now behold, here come the pancakes!
The US military has warned that surplus oil production capacity could disappear within two years and there could be serious shortages by 2015 with a significant economic and political impact.
Reminds me of a comment from another time:
Imagine for a moment, then, that we're discussing an experiment involving microbes in a petri dish. The culture medium in the dish contains 5% of a simple sugar that the microbes can eat, and 95% of a more complex sugar they don't have the right enzymes to metabolize. We put a drop of fluid containing microbes into the dish, close the lid, and watch. Over the next few days, a colony of microbes spreads through the culture medium, feeding on the simple sugar.
Then a mutation happens, and one microbe starts producing an enzyme that lets it feed on the more abundant complex sugar. Drawing on this new food supply, the mutant microbe and its progeny spread rapidly, outcompeting the original strain, until finally the culture medium is full of mutant microbes. At this point, though, the growth of the microbes is within hailing distance of the limits of the supply of complex sugar. As we watch the microbes through our microscopes, we might begin to wonder whether they can produce a second mutation that will let them continue to thrive. Yet this obvious question misleads, because there is no third sugar in the culture medium for another mutation to exploit.
The point that has to be grasped here is as crucial as it is easy to miss. The mutation gave the microbes access to an existing supply of highly concentrated food; it didn't create the food out of thin air. If the complex sugar hadn't existed, the mutation would have yielded no benefit at all. As the complex sugar runs out, further mutations are possible - some microbes might end up living on microbial waste products; others might kill and eat other microbes; still others might develop some form of photosynthesis and start creating sugars from sunlight - but all these possibilities draw on resources much less concentrated and abundant than the complex sugar that made the first mutation succeed so spectacularly. Nothing available to the microbes will allow them to continue to flourish as they did in the heyday of the first mutation. -- John Michael Greeg, The innovation fallacy
After Cameron shook the movie experience with Avatar 3D, movie studios have started jumping the bandwagon by adding an extra dimension to their shoots in post-production. The results are ugly! Have these people any standards at all?
Katzenberg, Bay and Cameron think that after-the-shoot 3D will so degrade the viewing experience that people will not want to pay extra for it. And since 3D is so expensive, without the extra income the 3D market could collapse altogether.
In other words, viewers will not buy shitty movies from late comers to the game, unless they movies are done right. Doh!
The strategy is simple: as viewer, watch Avatar once, then shun any production that is not "natively" 3D and of at least comparable quality. Studios and producers will get the point, and fast.
For what it's worth, I plan myself to wait 3-4 years before I visit a 3D screen again.
Transitioning… Happening, without me even realizing.
The though tonight surfaced when considering the origin of the headache that bothered me all this evening. I have known this headache for a few years already; it happens every now and then, the pain creates each time a sensation of déjà-vu without clear hints as to its precise causes.
Until today, where the dots were connected very blatantly. I had initiated today several interleaved conversations simultaneously in more than two languages, two of them being very intensive and conceptually complex.
Wait. The sheer intricacy of this statement sounds sufficient to warrant a headache, right?
Well, actually not. The complexity of the conversations per se was not relevant; nor was the multiplicity of languages nor their simultaneousness. Indeed, part of my daily work is dedicated to long work-related, technical and complex conversations in two different languages (not counting those I use with my computers), often alternating between both at short intervals, and without any subsequent pain nor second thought. I enjoy this situation greatly; it brings me both joy and fulfillment. It is part of my life, to the extent that these languages are also those I use daily with friends and family for social and personal interactions.
No, the headache only appears in this very specific situation when I start to use my native tongue during the day — next to the two others. This ability I am carrying around, learned at a young age, is hurting me whenever I exercise it in my new world. Unsurprisingly, I also no realize I am starting to avoid it altogether for this very reason — often unconsciously, and yet…
Last week-end I realized that several grammar forms that were once as natural as breathing are now eluding me. Understanding is still effortless, but the communication becomes straining. When compounded with my normal daily interactions, the effort becomes painful and causes the dreaded headaches.
I am slowly and deliberately ruining — in the literal, etymological sense: think about the crumbling stones of an old castle — my relationship with the first language I ever learned.
Some of my medium- and long-term plans already included taking on Swedish and Frisian classes. Now, I am seriously considering inserting German into the list as well, because it is the social norm where I live. This may require some additional sacrifice, too.
And yet I don't care. Actually, it feels great. I prefer my new tongues anyways.
Reported today by FreeBSD's ''fortune'' program:
Psychologists think they're experimental psychologists.
Experimental psychologists think they're biologists.
Biologists think they're biochemists.
Biochemists think they're chemists.
Chemists think they're physical chemists.
Physical chemists think they're physicists.
Physicists think they're theoretical physicists.
Theoretical physicists think they're mathematicians.
Mathematicians think they're metamathematicians.
Metamathematicians think they're philosophers.
Philosophers think they're gods.
The place for computer science? This needs an extension:
She hurt me.
A rusty kitchen knife dropping accidentally into deep scar tissue; ripping open a flesh that remembered an age old pain. An innocuous surface earthquake; well placed, and soon cracks appear at the bottom of a long extinct volcano and lets a sulphuric emulsion of nefarious gases and blazing lava infiltrate to the surface.
Should I go to her an inform her that her careless words were hurtful? Or do I gnaw on my ire alone and accept that I am the only one to be concerned with my sensitivity?
Ik was nog klein,
maar niet heel klein,
ik voelde aan mijn shcouders:
geen vleugels,
voelde telkens opnieuw,
maar ik had geen vleugels,
zelfs niet het begin van vleugels
of iets wat daarop leek
waarom vlieg jij niet, vroeg iedereen
ik heb geen vleugels, zei ik
ik had geen vleugels,
ik was een jongen die geen vleugels had
en ik steeg op een vloog weg,
ik ging op zoek naar vleugels.
— Toon Tellegen (1941-)
A little over five months ago, I started the following experiment: I invited my best female friends to help me compile a comprehensive and didactic approach to handling complicated relationships.
My invitation went as follows:
Subject: a little group exercise!
Dear friends,
would you like to write something for me?
The request may come unexpected, and I apologize in advance if I am taxing your busy agenda or bothering you in any way. Since some of you don't know each other, I am hiding your e-mail addresses for privacy.
But since I know each of you, I like your personality and I find the way you express your feelings interesting, I would like to involve you in a serious, cultural “interview” I am conducting in my social circles. There is very little reward involved, except my generous gratitude and possibly eternal fame afterwards :) (see below)
Language is free: write in your native language, or the language you are most comfortable writing in. Even a language you know I don't understand is fine!
Length is free: one word is OK, ten pages equally good. Ideal length would be as much as you would write on a real postcard or in your personal journal.
There is one catch: I get to choose the topic :)
When writing, you can adopt one of these two standpoints:
1) a very close (female) friend of yours if feeling uncomfortable: she is involved in a steady relationship and is attracted to (or has an affair with) some other person; she does not know what attitude to adopt;
2) you have experienced yourself such a situation, and you try to explain to a very close (female) friend of your how you are dealing with the situation.
A few hints to focus the situation: children are not involved. Nobody else knows (yet). It's the best sex ever you've ever had (or no sex if you prefer to not have sex at all) on both sides. No money issues either.
At the same time, I am asking you for permission: I would like to reproduce your answer on my web site, in part or in full (you choose!) with or without your first name next to it (you choose! but no last names) in a compilation that will carry the title “Relationships 101: crash course by European girls”.
You can start straight away and let your heart speak for yourself. General opinions are OK, personal experience is good too. But it has to involve some feelings, not only rational thoughts! If you don't know where to start, imagine that your audience will be European teenage girls that are looking for some input from more experienced adults, and who will gladly learn some good advice to not f*ck up later.
And then, it would be also nice if you would reflect in your thoughts your personal opinion on some attitudes from outside Europe on this topic. I'm thinking for example very strongly about polyamory in the US:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyamory, http://www.faqs.org/faqs/polyamory/faq/index.html
(French: http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyamour)
(Dutch: http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyamorie, http://www.polyamory.nl/polyamoryFAQNL.html)
but also other cultural positions on these topics from Asia, Africa, the middle east, whichever you know about.
Thank you in advance and so much for your attention and this little bit of your time. There is no delay, take your time to think about it if you need to!
PS: also feel free to forward this request to your (trusted) female friends. I also gladly accept reply from girls I don't know yet, but only if you would recommend them personally!
Thank you again, and big hugs to all.
For the record, the twenty-something friends I involved in this “exercise” are dear to me in different ways; and for each of them, we had at one point or another previously discussed their own relationships and their opinions about the topics mentioned above before I asked them to produce a more constructed argument.
Here is the summary of the reactions I have received so far:
I am still waiting and am considering asking for an update next month, i.e. six months after my initial request. Short afterwards, I will ensure with the author(s) that they allow me to publish their works before making them visible online.
The year 2009 also saw the sad disappearance of English poet and author James Kirkup.
In his memory and to bring the spiritual side of 2009 to a coda, I would like to share one of his works from 1977, best known for being censored in the UK and elsewhere:
The love that dares speak its name — By James Kirkup
As they took him from the cross
I, the centurion, took him in my arms-
the tough lean body
of a man no longer young,
beardless, breathless,
but well hung.
He was still warm.
While they prepared the tomb
I kept guard over him.
His mother and the Magdalen
had gone to fetch clean linen
to shroud his nakedness.
I was alone with him.
For the last time
I kissed his mouth. My tongue
found his, bitter with death.
I licked his wound-
the blood was harsh
For the last time
I laid my lips around the tip
of that great cock, the instrument
of our salvation, our eternal joy.
The shaft, still throbbed, anointed
with death's final ejaculation
I knew he'd had it off with other men-
with Herod's guards, with Pontius Pilate,
With John the Baptist, with Paul of Tarsus
with foxy Judas, a great kisser, with
the rest of the Twelve, together and apart.
He loved all men, body, soul and spirit. - even me.
So now I took off my uniform, and, naked,
lay together with him in his desolation,
caressing every shadow of his cooling flesh,
hugging him and trying to warm him back to life.
Slowly the fire in his thighs went out,
while I grew hotter with unearthly love.
It was the only way I knew to speak our love's proud name,
to tell him of my long devotion, my desire, my dread-
something we had never talked about. My spear, wet with blood,
his dear, broken body all open wounds,
and in each wound his side, his back,
his mouth - I came and came and came
as if each coming was my last.
And then the miracle possessed us.
I felt him enter into me, and fiercely spend
his spirit's finbal seed within my hole, my soul,
pulse upon pulse, unto the ends of the earth-
he crucified me with him into kingdom come.
-This is the passionate and blissful crucifixion
same-sex lovers suffer, patiently and gladly.
They inflict these loving injuries of joy and grace
one upon the other, till they dies of lust and pain
within the horny paradise of one another's limbs,
with one voice cry to heaven in a last divine release.
Then lie long together, peacefully entwined, with hope
of resurrection, as we did, on that green hill far away.
But before we rose again, they came and took him from me.
They knew no what we had done, but felt
no shame or anger. Rather they were gald for us,
and blessed us, as would he, who loved all men.
And after three long, lonely days, like years,
in which I roamed the gardens of my grief
seeking for him, my one friend who had gone from me,
he rose from sleep, at dawn, and showed himself to me before
all others. And took me to him with
the love that now forever dares to speak its name.
Let 2010 be the year of freedom of speech, sexual diversity and lesser involvement of religion with morality.
Disclaimer: this is a post about its author. If you just want to be entertained, you can skip reading.
One more page turning. While I have spent the official “big party time” of the year quite comfortably lying on a couch, watching TV and playing video games, the occasional greeting SMS compounded with heavy fireworks and an yearly summary e-mail from a close friend reminded me this is the time of the year to contemplate the time passing and make the best out of transitions.
So here is my summary.
The year 2009 was about growing up. I am officially an adult now. During this year, I have started: considering an actual career, caring for retirement plans, comparing health insurance plans, caring about world politics, contracting a mortgage, planning for future savings, considering the financial well-being of my family before making big spending decisions, planning to care for kids in a somewhat near future and — biggest one among the rest — contemplating and actually enjoying the prospect of getting older, especially turning 30 in the coming year. If I told myself how comfortable I would be with these “accomplishments” a mere 5 years ago, I would not have believed myself. 5 years earlier, I would have been down right suspicious and would have showed contempt. Time does wonders!
At the same time, I have been somewhat unsatisfied with the way I take care of the people who are more or less regularly part of my life. Many times per week, if not every day, I spend a few moment thinking about how much I respect / like / love / admire / am grateful towards the people I know, wondering how to inform them of my feelings. All my acquaintances have contributed in one way to another to the person I am, and for this I am routinely and genuinely grateful. I try to smile, interact socially and positively, send friendly words on cards, e-mails or facebook messages, be supportive. But I realize I have not taken the time to really get to know my entourage better and understand their existence as human beings outside of the pleasure I have interacting with them. In short, I often fear that I appear to act as if I was using my friends to entertain myself or acknowledge my own existence, and that I do not show them (often) enough how much I care about them. At the same time, I feel childish at the thought of more frequent tokens of appreciation; I fear I would come across as “bizarre” or “creepy” by overwhelming friends with tokens of affection, or come across as flirtatious or romantic instead of genuinely happy to know them.
And 2009 was also the occasion to take on bad habits. I have become cynical; I tend to see either stupidity or malice in all aspects of the world that I dislike, instead of considering that my expectations have become distorted by a lack of diversity in my channels to the outside world. In my efforts to move forward dutifully and fight procrastination, I have set up a routine where I pursue small goals one after the other — often losing sight of the big picture and overall direction I would like to go. And I have let work take away a lot of my free time, reducing greatly my opportunities for social activities and self-development. All these changes impact me negatively.
My own resolutions for 2010 area bout sharing and improving my contact with other human beings. I will try and learn to trust friends. I will interact more emotionally with the people I meet and try to understand who they are and what is important to them. And I will exercise more at enjoying my immediate surroundings, instead of worrying about remote issues that I have little impact over.
Fact: Yesterday, a 23 yo Nigerian man attempted to ignite a flammable substance aboard flight DL253, a short time before landing in Detroit. Other passengers saw a bright light and a sound of fireworks before the man was stopped and the device extinguished.
The plane departed from Amsterdam. The first news reports in the Netherlands described the situation as “failed attempt to light a firecracker on board a plane departed from Schiphol;” “man controlled by other passengers after lighting a piece of fireworks;” and “the perpetrator was injured by fire, no-one else wounded.”
Curious, I used my brains:
In other words, while the motive of the man is not clear and we do not know the exact nature of his device, his actions where not well thought-out, and of limited risk for the plane and the passengers (burns are not deadly) — at least not of any more risk than a heavily drunk passenger breaking his wine bottle and using the glass shards as a weapon.
I would suggest the following exercise: when reading about this event, consider only the first-hand accounts by witness passengers on-board, and try to dismiss entirely any account from ‘US officials’. The contrast between the facts above and what follows is striking.
Soon after the situation was known in the US, the tone of the news reports there became different: “terrorism attack on US-bound plane;” “terrorist attempts to fire a bomb aboard a plane, heroic action from other passengers to stop him;” and “Moslim terrorist declares he was directed by Al-Qaeda”. The news reports in the Netherlands are then modified: “intelligence reports in the US indicate that…” and “US sources report that…”
Also, the plane was isolated upon landing in a remote area of Detroit's airport and all passengers and crew were interrogated by the FBI. Presumably, the perpetrator was subject to “advanced interrogation techniques.” Whether his “admission” that he was acting for Al-Qaeda is true or merely the wishful thinking of his interrogators will be lost with the torture logs, obviously.
Meanwhile, in an opportunistic move the White House declares that terrorism control in airports worldwide must be strengthened.
But this is Christmas. You should be celebrating, so nothing to see there. Move along.
Liu Xiaobo is on trial. The verdict is due on Dec 25th, 2009, when western media is on holiday so as to reduce international attention on the case.
Liu Xiaobo is a human rights activist and signatory of Charter 08, a groundbreaking manifesto requesting the modernization of the Chinese state. He is charged for “inciting subversion of state power.” Foreign officials support him and Charter 08, and criticize the trial; meanwhile the Chinese government decries diplomatic meddling. Liu Xiaobo faces 15 years in prison for wishing to improve the world.
But there is nothing to see there of course, move along. Your are celebrating Christmas tomorrow!
Recently: http://www.gilestro.tk/2009/lots-of-smoke-hardly-any-gun-do-climatologists-falsify-data/.
Simultaneously, found on the Independer:
Climate models, which is what the "scientists" use cannot produce evidence. They give a large number of "what if" scenarios. Picking one of these because it fits with the political message is snake-oil selling; not science.
Go check the meaning of "chaotic" in the mathematical sense. A dynamic, complex, chaotic system - Earth's climate - cannot be predicted with any certainty, because each element can undergo a small variation which can have a large effect on the whole. This means there are an infinite number of possible outcomes, none of which are any more certain than any other.
Further, climate models exclude two of the most important climate factors - behaviour of oceans and clouds - because computers lack the power to make the necessary calculations.
It is not possible to predict climate with any certainty at any point in the future.
To say scientists have produced evidence of what a 2C - or any other value - will do to the Earth's climate is nonsense.
The models are programmed with the assumption that CO2 can only have a strong positive forcing effect; which is not supported in the peer reviewed scientific literature.
The result of computer models which rely on an assumption cannot be used to prove that assumption.
In any case observation over the past 11 years shows the Earth's climate is not warming by the 0.2C per decade predicted by the IPCC - in fact it is cooling.
If you are interested in fact rather than fiction go here: http://rankexploits.com/musings/2009/hadley-november/