Fort Malcolm

September 7th, 2010

I feel like a fort on the edge of the wilderness, communications cut off.  Here I am at the library, trying to let the world know of my situation via smoke signals… the situation just seems to have re-set to what is was a month ago, only my truck isn’t running quite as well as it was then in spite of the long-overdue oil change I administered.  I am still waiting for Harbor Style to hand me a big wad of money for all the stuff I wrote and shot for the October issue, which probably won’t happen for another two weeks.  What am I worried about?  I’m so far behind on my bills that it’s probably already spent.

Meanwhile, my Comcast account is down.  Maybe I’ll activate my Yahoo account, although it had been my intention to only get my e-mail from one source.  Oh, and did I mention my pill-popping housemate J. is moving back in?  His girlfriend folded and took her kids and went home to Mommy and Daddy since neither she nor J. could afford to pay rent.  The poor guy is really ripped up inside and trying not to show it.  When I leave here I’m going back to help him move!

I was hit by a severe attack of chronic fatigue this weekend and spent most of Saturday on the couch, horizontal. (Perhaps someone will choose to disparage this self-diagnosis too.  All I can tell you is I have episodes where to even get up and walk about is exhausting.  Trucking a few gallons of drinking water from a neighbor’s house was an ordeal.)

The good news is that this has given me time to work on my next opus, Growing Up In The Orgone Box: Memories of a Reichian Childhood. As I plunge back into my past I wonder how my parents could have been such idiots as not to realize I was being abused, the signs were everywhere, particularly the imagery of the nightmares I kept having.

Peter’s comments on “Unquiet Summer” do raise the question of why there aren’t more zoophiles reading this blog.  Perhaps they read it and choose not to comment.  If so, let me invite you to express yourselves.  Unlike your paramours, I don’t bite, kick or scratch, though my words can make you weep or rip the heart from your chest.  The hardest thing to do, however, is to make someone THINK.

NEW TEMP E-MAIL ADDRESS: mbrenner51@yahoo.com

Isolation

September 3rd, 2010

If you’re trying to reach me, my e-mail is totally off.  I hope to have it on again soon.  I don’t feel well today so I’ll keep this short.

God & cod

August 29th, 2010

I’m sitting in a McDonalds.  It is marginally better than sitting outside the Punta Gorda library in my truck.  It took me several tries to log on to the network before I could finally download my mail and actually start doing anything.  I had a fish sandwich meal; I could have had a salad I suppose but then why go to McDonalds?  Besides I am always suspicious of salads in eating establishments where they pay as little as they do here.  I used to work in one of these places, remember (crap, that was 42 years ago?  Why do I feel like a relic, remembering that?)  Anyhow, Dan should be very proud of me for coming here and using their wi-fi.

I have just come back from a church in Cape Coral, a nearby town.  They were advertising for atheists on Craigs List, believe it or not; they said they wanted to find ways to make their services “less offensive.”  I found nothing offensive about the service except the fundamental Xtian doctrine that we are all fallen souls, living in a fallen world.  In fact, the service was kind of bland (like McDonalds), but they paid me $25 for answering a questionnaire afterwards!  Aside from the drive it was a snap, and I think I will – despite my parlous financial condition – spend the reward on a sacrament.  That should make Austin happy.

What to do to make Peter B. happy I’m not sure.  Maybe offer his pony a sugar cube?  But what if I got the sugar cube from Austin?  Hmmmm.

Well, all my readers should be happy now.  If not, BE HAPPY!  I command you!  Dance, clown, dance!

As you can tell I am in a somewhat better mood.  It is odd how that happened, even silly.  Basically I came home and found my trailer’s water pump running.  It runs whenever you turn on the water or flush.  I thought it had been running all the time I was gone, a couple of hours.  It had been running when I left but since I was in a hurry to get J. to his meeting with his parole officer on time (one of the last places I took him as my tenant) I chose to ignore it.  When I came home and found it STILL RUNNING HOURS LATER it just seemed like the last straw.  In the past, that has caused plumbing breakdowns as the pump overheats and melts the plastic water pipes.  It didn’t this time, but the fact that I knew something was wrong and did nothing about it upset me more than it should have. I always feel like I have to bend over backwards to prevent things from fucking up and even then they go wrong, but at least I know I did everything I could to try to prevent it.

However, given all the financial problems I was just overwhelmed and I sat down and cried.  It was amazing, how much of a relief that was, not so much that night as the next day.  I was still bummed but I got over it.  Also, I’ve sold a couple of more copies in the past week (although I have yet to mail them) which always makes me feel better.  I also sent out review copies to the Ft. Myers News Press and the Miami Herald.

Well I don’t want to spend all day in this crappy Mickey D’s so I better check my mail and get out of here.  Don’t worry about me, everything will work out fine… or I’ll find somebody and make them pay for it.

Isolation

August 26th, 2010

Here is my situation:

• phone cut off, may lose phone number.  Cannot receive even incoming calls.

• Internet cut off, working from library.

• electric bill due.

• Car insurance payment due.  Must pay or substantial fine.

• House mate J. moved out, found a woman to fuck.  Hell, he couldn’t make the rent anyway; the best he could do was occasionally help out with gas and find me some reefer now & then.  I wish him well and I give him about 6 months with her before he goes nuts.  She’s a pillhead too.

• Posted notice at local community college looking for new roommate.  Hope I can find somebody honest… but how would I know?

• Dog needs flea medication.  Also dog food.

• Bank charged $35 fee for overdrawn account unpaid for more than 5 days.  This is an improvement over charging me for every check.  Also charged me $25 which they paid to Winn Dixie where I bounced a $13 check.

I was so depressed yesterday I was on the verge of being suicidal.  Very, very depressed.  Feeling better today but as my friend David Gardner once wisely said, “All the happiness in the world can’t buy money.”  And believe me, Dave knows what he is talking about!

Unquiet summer

August 21st, 2010

I apologize.  I apologize for everything: for not writing more often, for being broke, for being a man, for being white, for being human, for fucking my dog, for not doing better in college, for not having more energy, for not having made something of my pathetic life.  It is very discouraging, as my sources of communications seem to be getting cut off one by one, like… bad metaphor there.  The little man from Comcast just came by today and because I couldn’t pay him a lousy $90 cut off my television, as well as blocking my Internet, which as you regular readers know – both of you, Austin and Dan – has been cut off for a while, forcing me to go to the local library to obtain internet services.  It’s not like it isn’t quiet here or something but it’s more difficult to write here than in my office or at my kitchen table, believe me.

My life is a mess this summer.  Broke, cut off, and I have a housemate who strains my charity.  J tries, bless him, and he works hard when he does, mowing lawns and weed-whacking in the summer heat.  Doesn’t make much though.

I should be throwing myself into writing or something I can achieve like a madman, like  drowning man grasping at straws but the energy just isn’t there.  The past two, three days I have felt enervated.

Sales still suck.  I haven’t sold a book in over a week and I’m upset and trying to figure out new ways to get the word out.  I can’t believe there was only demand for 130 copies of WET GODDESS!  Sheesh, you think I’d do better than that just on the zoophile market.

Damn, sitting here just feeling exhausted.  Truck is burning oil like a motherfucker, needs major repair work which just isn’t happening because I don’t have the money.  Well, at least I still have food stamps.  But I don’t feel very good about myself.  If I got rewarded more often (read paychecks) I’d be inclined to pursue more things that reward me, but my next paycheck is going to suck, $220, because I only got one photo and one article published this month.

I just finished reading Richard Dolan’s remarkable “UFOs and the National Security State,” a truly exhaustive, dense but worthwhile compendium of facts about how the U.S. government mis-handled the UFO issue from 1947 to 1969, and I’m waiting to read the second volume.  Without dipping into conspiracy theories Dolan clearly shows the connections between UFO secrecy and the other secret projects of the U.S. government, like MK-Ultra and CoIntelPro.  He makes a convincing case that the CIA is the MOST accessible government agency handling residual UFO reports that cannot be explained by natural or man-made causes.  It’s a grim and frightening book which should be taught in every high school American History class.

I also read Budd Hopkins’ “WITNESSED,” which is about a UFO abduction in Brooklyn in 1989.  Can’t believe it hasn’t been made into a movie yet.  Both very good books.

The library is going to close soon and they will toss me out; since they leave the routers on I can sit outside in my car and do this but it’s not really comfortable.  So I’ll end this now and try to write something more coherent and less whiny soon.

Out of order

August 10th, 2010

Once again Comcast has gotten all fussy about money so I’m blogging from the library and there isn’t much time to write today.  Maybe tomorrow?

Another staggering techno-triumph (hardware)

July 31st, 2010

PUNTA GORDA, Fla. – In a dazzling display of technical know-how, Malcolm J. Brenner, author of the novel WET GODDESS: Recollections of a Dolphin Lover, announced that he had managed to fix his malfunctioning central air conditioner unit this morning.

“When I got the top off, it was so simple it was plumb stupid,” Brenner quipped. “The return fan had slipped down its shaft, brining its blades into contact with four long screws on the motor housing.  Once I lubed the shaft and worked the blades up a little higher, the blades stopped hitting the screws and the fan worked again.  It was child’s play.”

It was, Brenner noted, not something many other famous authors could do.

“You think Stephen King can fix an air conditioner?  Ann Rice?  Give me a fucking break, those bozos don’t know how to turn a screwdriver,” Brenner said.  ”Tom Clancy, just maybe.”

Brenner attributed his success with the formidable problem to his childhood, when he messed up his father’s tools while building wooden toys in the basement.  Later, as the owner of a photolab in Seattle, Brenner had to fix the unbelievably cheap equipment used there whenever it went on the fritz.

“It was a bailing wire and bubble gum operation,” he said.  ”Taught me everything I know.”

The air conditioning fix means that Brenner’s overheated brain will be able to return to writing, and editing the photos he recently shot of a palmetto bug, or Florida cockroach.

The heat is getting to me

July 30th, 2010

7-30-10: Central air conditioner broke down this morning.  Inside of trailer hotter than… metaphor escapes me.  Thermostat reads 95ºF.  J. in his AC’d room, me in my AC’d office, Pixel hiding under front porch, where she prefers to be.  No money to fix AC for another three weeks.  Don’t know if we can make it… down to our last few bottles of Perrier.

Dan the man stopped by Wednesday unexpectedly.  Always good to see him. For my regular Thursday morning appearance on 96.5 The Buzz in Kansas City, Afentra the morning DJ was too busy talking about the bear maulings near Yellowstone to get me on the air.  Disappointment.

My brother, who runs the Institute of Orgonomic Sciences in Philadelphia, has come across some medical records pertaining to my treatment by an orgonomist (see my biography if you don’t know what that term means and don’t feel bad, most people don’t).  This could be critical information for my next project, Growing Up In The Orgone Box. We shall see what we shall see.

Damn, it’s hot… not quite as hot as yesterday, when we had four Federal marshals show up, looking for one of J.’s bosom buddies who seems to have skipped bail after beating up his girlfriend twice.  Fortunately nothing happened, and I went off to do an interview.  Which reminds me… must download photos!  Must download photos!  Must download…

Arrrg, the heat!  THE HEEEEEEAAATTT!

Am I just seeking validation?

July 28th, 2010

If you haven’t read Leon Feistinger’s sociological classic “When Prophecy Fails,” I highly recommend it.  Feistinger was a psychologist who, in the 1950′s, wondered why religions proselytize.  He and his students successfully infiltrated a nascent UFO cult, became “true believers” and chronicled the cult’s behavior when its prophecy of massive “Earth changes” and a alien rescue of the cult members… didn’t happen as predicted.  Their behavior, Feistinger found, changed radically.  Whereas before the failed prophecy, cult members had been withdrawn and insular, guarding the prophecy for themselves, afterward they began to actively, openly proselytize and seek new members.  This is exactly the opposite of what one would expect to happen from common sense: if prophecy failed, you’d expect the cult members to feel like idiots and slink into the shadows.  Instead, they began beating their own drum.

Feistinger saw similar results in cults throughout history, and coined the term “cognitive dissonance” to explain it.  The theory of cognitive dissonance states – I hope I am getting this right – that cognitive dissonance is the unbearable result of the discrepancy between one’s beliefs and one’s inescapable perceptions of reality.  When those two clash, it’s not the beliefs that suffer, one changes one’s interpretation of reality to match the pre-extant beliefs!

In the case of the UFO cultists, their leader, who claimed to be “channeling” the aliens, received a “message” saying that the apparent prophecy had simply been a “test of faith,” and because they had gathered at the appointed time in the appointed place and followed the aliens’ “instructions,” they had passed the “test of faith” and now it was OK to spread the message.

What they were actually doing, Feistinger said, was trying to compensate for the failed prophecy with numbers.  We are inherently programmed to expect that the more people believe something, the more likely it is to be true.

This of course is false.  Numbers do not make an incorrect view of reality true, no matter how many people believe it.

I bring this up because I am angry, sad, and black-and-blue from yet another abrasive encounter with a group of marine biologists who publish under the umbrella of “Southern Fried Scientist,” a guy named Andrew, a grad student in North Carolina.  They also include “Why Sharks Matter,” a guy named David, a grad student from South Carolina, and more recently Chuck, a guy from Rhode Island studying spiny dogfish in south carolina.

I’d had a scrape with Andrew and David before on their old web site when Andrew wrote “Getting A Sense of Porpoise,” in which he investigates his own self-described “animosity” toward marine mammals and why other people seem to worship them.  In his opening paragraphs, he states “Ask most people if the bottlenose dolphin is endangered, and they’ll probably say yes. It isn’t.”

Now, from my POV as a former investigative reporter, this is a scientist knowingly, and deliberately, writing badly to substantiate his emotional prejudice against dolphins.  Why do I say that?  Because it’s a slippery, greasy, equivocal statement.  Who are “most people?”  Andrew doesn’t say.  He doesn’t offer any polling data or statistics.  And he also uses “probably,” a notorious weasel word used to back up specious arguments.  So in spite of trying to look and sound authoritative, this is from my POV a very biased and prejudiced statement, not an assertion of fact as the author wants us to believe.  Andrew isn’t sure of himself here, but he wants us very very badly to think he is.

Why? Because he wants validation.

This is a shitty attitude for a scientist. Need I also say there is nothing remotely scientific about it?  Please understand, Andrew is welcome to whatever opinions or beliefs he wants, but he should acknowledge them as his own, unsubstantiated beliefs.  Apparently he can’t do this, however, so he tries to pass himself off as some kind of knowledgeable expert on what “most people”  would “probably” say, if asked, which he hasn’t.  It’s verbal sophistry and slipshod inquiry, and Andrew is smart enough, or at least has spent enough money on his scientific education, to know this.

He posted it anyway.

He also states, addressing the problem of dolphin bycatch in bluefin tuna fishing, “In fact, at this point it would probably make more sense to be eating tuna safe dolphin.” See his argument against dolphin safe tuna. Needless to say his conclusion, albeit distasteful to him, is that we should go on killing dolphins because (in spite of official estimates that 6,000,000 tropical dolphins have been killed in tuna fishing– up to 80 percent of some stocks) they’re not considered endangered.  Whereas other marine species caught when not fishing on the dolphins are.

Andrew does not have a lot of sympathy, or empathy, for dolphins, it would seem.

This is only the beginning of an exchange that goes on to include 60 comments, the first of which was, unfortunately, mine.  I raised the whole issue of belief, and then admitted that I’d had an emotional and sexual relationship with a dolphin.

Big mistake, like pouring a spoonful of water into a vat of concentrated sulfuric acid.  Because, you see, scientists like Andrew KNOW that I CANNOT know what is going on in the mind of a non-human creature.

This is a domain of ethology known as “Skinnerian behaviorism,” after its founder, B.F. Skinner, who maintained, with some validity, that we should only describe other animals behavior and not try to interpret, or perhaps interpolate, the mental or emotional reasons behind this behavior.  I don’t think Skinner ever said that there couldn’t be such reasons, although many scientists, following Descartes, interpret him this way, only that, under normal circumstances, we attribute a certain set of emotions to a non-human animal at our own risk; our interpretations of behavior may not jibe with the animal’s reality.

You know who was the latest, most famous victim of mis-interpreting an animal’s behavior?  Poor Dawn Brancheau, the trainer who was killed at Sea World by Tilikum, the orca.  The poor woman had worked with Tilikum for 10 years, was the most senior orca trainer in the facility, and she’d completely bought Sea World’s public image crap that orcas are cute, inspiring and harmless to humans. This is similar to what happens to a heroin dealer when he begins using his own product. (Not, I hasten to add, that I have actually known any heroin dealers.  I don’t run in those circles.)

Now, if you want to carry Skinnerian behaviorism to the extreme, you can point out – correctly – that we can’t even know what another person is thinking. And it’s factually true.  Yet, we behave every day as if we do know what other people are thinking, and we are justified in doing this due to our generalized knowledge of human behavior and its predictable qualities.  If I have just met someone and he or she holds out a hand with the fingers together and the thumb up, this is a gesture that almost always means “Let’s shake hands,” a human way of showing that we are unarmed, harmless, and have no bad intentions.

So, given all that, how can I claim that I’ve had telepathic experiences with a dolphin?  How can I claim that I know the dolphin “gave consent” to have sex with me?

Under “normal” circumstances, I couldn’t make that claim.  I’m claiming “extraordinary” circumstances, but unfortunately I have to make that claim without knowing exactly what those circumstances were.  However, I posit that the most important of those extraordinary circumstances was the existence of a dolphin who was a) telepathic and b) interested in acquiring information from humans. Other factors might be my open-mindedness about the dolphin, my frequent use of marijuana and possibly some innate disposition on my part which under certain conditions makes me more telepathic than the average human.  It’s called “heredity.”

In regard to consent, it was the dolphin who had to obtain MY consent, not the other way ’round!

Now, in trying to respond to Andrew on his blog I screwed things up, because at one point I thought David had said something which Andrew had actually said, and Andrew grew contemptuous of me for dissing his friend when it was really his statement I meant to dis.  How did that happen?  Well, this is simple but it sounds stupid: I had never been on a blog with two moderators before! I felt like a solo wrestler in a tag-team match, and frankly, the two guys look so much alike in their thumbnails and sound so much alike in their discussions that I got them mixed up.  Fatally, it would seem.

I tried to make logical and rational arguments on my behalf, on behalf of what was, admittedly, an illogical and irrational experience, the experience of communicating telepathically with a dolphin.  Unfortunately, I can’t make those arguments logically in any way that would impress a scientist, and the scientists to whom I’ve sent copies of WET GODDESS, even at their request, have so far not deigned to hand down an opinion either of the book as a work of literature or of my experience, as to whether it yielded insights into dolphin behavior and/or psychology.

To wrap this up, a more recent tangle with Chuck, Andrew and David began with Chuck the new guy posting an article about me titled Ew, Just Ew.  Now, that title alone should tell you he isn’t objective about my experience.  In what he describes as “a rant,” he lumps me in with a whole ‘nother category of dolphin “true believers” who “channel” dolphins, offer “dolphin birthing experiences” and other nonsense.  These people will make up and swallow anything about dolphins that validates their “New Age” beliefs that dolphins are somehow more “enlightened” than we are.  I learned long ago – 1970, to be exact – how false a claim that is!

OK, on this new blog I was 1) described as inspiring disgust – the title; 2) badly misquoted as the author of a piece about “how to fuck dolphins” which I did not write; 3) given a “cease and desist” order on threat of libel by Andrew for a quote I insist he made, and later removed from his web site; 4) told that I was deliberately picking fights to promote my book.

Out of all those absurd and misbegotten allegations, that last has got to be the stupidest. LIKE THERE AREN’T EASIER SELLS OUT THERE, CHUCK?

On his old web site, Andrew wrote, in response to my contention that the dolphin gave consent, “The sexual exploitation of someone who is incapable of giving consent IS rape. This is why I said in the beginning that we have a fundamental philosophical difference that cannot be resolved.”

I maintain the statement originally said, “The sexual exploitation of someone who is incapable of giving consent IS rape. [What you did is the moral equivalent of rape.] This is why I said in the beginning that we have a fundamental philosophical difference that cannot be resolved.”

Of course, I needn’t have maintained this, because Andrew makes very clear what he thinks of me even without that phrase.  But I remember it very, very clearly.  I don’t take insults of that magnitude lightly, and that one is burned into my brain.  I will never forget it, and unless Andrew apologizes publicly, I won’t forgive him either.  I hope some woman accuses him of raping her, so he will know how it feels.  Better yet, I hope he’s convicted on the basis of false testimony.  He will have a valid opportunity to learn about the subjective nature of human reality, for a change.  And he might develop some new sympathy for dolphins held in captivity. (Upon further reflection I hope it is Dave, as he has been the more aggressive and contemptuous of the two.)

Hey, pigs could fly.

I want to make clear here that I could have argued my case against these people if they 1) had actually been willing to listen to what I had to say and 2) had used fair argumentative tactics.  But it went like this: if I asked a question they didn’t want to answer or raised a contention they couldn’t rebut, they just skipped it, as if I’d never said it. When I went back and read the old posts, I realized this happened over and over again.  When ANOTHER poster raised the issue of Lou Herman’s research, Andrew dismissed it with a wave of his hand: “Sounds like training to me,” he wrote, in spite of the fact that Herman went to great lengths to show that what his dolphins were doing was NOT training but based upon an understanding of concepts such as syntax and grammar.

It was exactly like listening to a physicist “debunk” UFO reports.  If you can’t dispute the facts, attack the character of the witness.  If you don’t like the question, don’t attempt to answer it.

Now, how did I get involved in this mess? (I am coming to a point here.) Simple, I run Google alerts on words like “dolphin,” “whale,” “orca,” etc. and of course the Google alerts don’t warn me what I’m getting into.  I found myself accused by “Miriam” (You notice how these people don’t use last names?) of having written what she described as the “horrifying” piece about “how to fuck dolphins” which was really written by a guy under the handle of Dragon-wolfe Dolphinn.  (David accused me of being him.  I’m not, as even a casual comparison of our published writing styles would reveal).

So I got very angry that Miriam hadn’t even done the most casual fact-checking and was instead trusting her 10-year-old memories, which, as it turned out, were false and wrong.  Do I get an apology from Miriam or Chuck, who repeated her blatant error? FUCK NO. (It took me less than three minutes to find Dragonwolfe’s piece reprinted.  Apparently Miriam and Chuck are both too busy, bless their pointed little heads, to check things like this out before committing themselves in print.)

So if I make an error in this ongoing argument, it’s the shitstorm of God upon me and threats of a libel suit; if one of these sanctimonious, conceited scientists makes a worse error, it’s not even worth their time or effort to make a casual apology.

WHAT I AM ASKING, READER, is a rhetorical question: What am I doing here?  Am I looking for validation in the wrong places?  Because I can’t prove my case, am I in publishing WET GODDESS looking for validation “by the numbers?”  Am I no better than Feistinger’s misguided UFO cultists with their silly “end of the world” prophecy?

In fact, why am I publishing my story at all?  Why am I putting up with this kind of contemptuous treatment, which is blatantly moralistic, not scientific, when it has a very real and inescapable effect of damaging my heart?

I don’t know.  I just know that telling this story is the most important thing I have ever done in my life, so I guess I better get used to the criticism and not waste my precious time and resources arguing with people who, in spite of their professed objectivity and open-mindedness, cannot be convinced by my arguments.

Still, the idea that I might be seeking validation “by the numbers” bothers me.  I don’t think it’s true, but I know that every time I sell a book, I feel a sense of happiness that seems to be greater than the small amount of money I make would warrant.

So I feel sad and angry and depressed and once again very badly used by scientists who are fundamentally hypocrites, who flagrantly use the very tactics they condemn me — falsely– for using.  Read the blogs for yourself and tell me what you think.  Or don’t.  I’m trying very hard not to give a flying fuck, but it’s not working.

Pink River Dolphin Therapy: Quackery or Shamanism?

July 28th, 2010
I came across the following on my Google alerts, which I have also posted to the Marine Biology International Forum on Yahoo!
Leonardo Araujo, 12, swims with a “Boto Cor-de-Rosa” (Pink River Dolphin) during a Bototerapia (pink dolphin therapy) session in the Negro River in Novo Airao city, northern Brazil July 26, 2010. The therapy involves swimming with the “Boto Cor-de-Rosa” (Pink River Dolphin), in the belief that the ultrasonic waves emitted by the dolphin will help cure a range of health problems, according to physiotherapist and Bototerapia creator Igor Simoes. Araujo, who could not walk before the treatment, says his physical capabilities and self esteem have improved greatly since the therapy. Picture taken on July 26. (REUTERS)
(NOTE: In the photo the boy submerged in a life jacket with the “boto” has no arms, apparently a congenital birth defect)
Link to remarkable pictures:
Poster’s Questions: Are these dolphins captive?  What are the ethics of imprisoning an animal to use as a therapeutic device?  Couldn’t the dolphins “ultrasonic waves” (bioecholocation, presumably) be easily duplicated by an inexpensive, even battery-powered mechanical device?  What psychological effect does swimming with these large predators have?  I submit it is far more powerful than any physical effect of the dolphins’ “ultrasonic waves!”