Shortly after midnight on March 24, 1989, the Exxon Valdez impaled itself on Bligh Reef in Alaska’s Prince William Sound. The tanker leaked 38,800 metric tons of crude oil, fouling 1,300 miles of coastline and wrecking the local fishing industry. During the next 20 years, Exxon spent more than two billion dollars on cleanup and lawsuits.

“Do Typos Count?” was the title of a recent post on one of my favorite blogs, You Don’t Say. The article asked whether “the occasional slip of the fingers on the keyboard” in a blog amounts to all that much.

I winced when I read the title. Not long before I had learned of an embarrassing typo in the May issue of National Geographic.

When Zviad Guruli gets homesick, he calls his friends back in the Republic of Georgia on Skype, but is careful not to spill his special sauce on the keyboard. Like many Georgians, his national identity is tied up in food and he cooks up a batch of favorite dishes before ringing his friends and inviting them to an electronic supra (feast). There might be lamb with the spicy plum-cilantro sauce tkemali or grilled meat rubbed with khmeli-suneli, a complex, dried herb mixture of coriander seed, basil, dill weed, summer savory, parsley, mint, fenugreek leaves, ground marigold and bay leaf. Guruli, a lawyer in Washington, D.C., plants a glass of red wine in easy reach, then he and his faraway friends toast, talk, and sing away the miles between Tbilisi and Northern Virginia, where Guruli, 34, lives with his American wife, Erin and four children, Sofie, Michael, Noah, and Nick.

Hammurabi or Hammurapi? Neanderthal or Neandertal? Genghis Khan or Chinggis Khan? Inca or Inka? Chac or Chaak?

Spelling questions such as these come up frequently at National Geographic magazine. Because of our in-depth research and tradition of consulting experts for articles, we tend to adopt more scholarly terminology than do other general-interest publications.

A few years ago, artists Judith Selby Lang and Richard Lang began noticing strange rectangular plastic objects that had washed up on the beaches in Point Reyes, California. They asked around for more information. A teenager, incredulous at their ignorance, informed them that the plastic in question was a cheese spreader used in snack packs.

The artists have now collected over two tons of plastic beach trash. They transform the objects into sculptures, jewelry, and furniture. Their collection of cheese spreaders is shown above; it is part of an exhibit called “Disposable Truths,” hosted by the California College of the Arts and Stanford University.

—J.M. McCord

See more images of their work after the jump.

Oceans cover more than 70 percent of our planet, so it’s not surprising that naming conventions differ around the world. In the United States, we’re taught that there are four great oceans: the Atlantic, Pacific, Indian, and Arctic Oceans. Some in the Southern Hemisphere, however, claim a fifth: the Southern Ocean (or Great Southern Ocean), also called the Antarctic Ocean.

Our article “Australia’s Dry Run” in the April issue included a map showing the Murray River draining into the Indian Ocean. That prompted several queries from Australian readers who wondered why we didn’t label it Southern Ocean.

One of the joys of my job, which involves reading many, many proofs of National Geographic, is that I’m always learning. Today the new topic is half-high dots, also known as middle dots or raised dots, a mark akin to a period but placed in the vertical midpoint of a line of type. For some reason its name seems happy and makes me want to sing.

Just why am I now consumed with this symbol? In the March issue of National Geographic, we used the abbreviation kWh for kilowatt-hour, and received a challenge from a reader who told us that to be scientifically correct we should have written the term kW·h. (See that half-high dot?) However, that rendition does not agree with Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, our primary guide for spelling, which lists kWh.

See that globe in the picture above? It hangs over Jon Stewart's head as he sits at his fake desk to deliver the fake news. Viewers see it at the opening of each episode of The Daily Show and occasionally after a commercial break or when a guest walks on. Those of you with sharp eyes might have noticed that a ticker on the globe lists a series of place-names: the show's home base, New York, and six other locales. And since this is The Daily Show, the names aren't just random picks. Each week, there's a theme. And this week, the names have a special National Geographic spin.  

We talk a lot about the hardware of environmentally responsible buildings, like double-pane windows, energy-efficient heat pumps, and compact fluorescent bulbs. Those are unarguably important and necessary, but it's difficult to feel uplifted by the sight of a roll of R-38 fiberglass insulation.

That's what makes this month's story on green roofs so engaging. Here is where being responsible and attuned to the environment pairs up with spiritual satisfaction. I defy you to look at the image on page 86-87 of the cottage-like garden atop a Manhattan apartment roof and not smile.

A reader recently queried our use of the country name Burma in the March issue. Edward Hoagland wrote in his article on China’s Jiuzhaigou National Park that, “Once the panda’s range extended clear into Burma.”

In the latest Dreamworks animated feature, Monsters vs. Aliens, a radioactive meteorite crashes a wedding, causing the bride-to-be to outgrow the church. The movie, a throwback to ‘50s-era B monster flicks, made us wonder if space rocks have ever caused real harm to humans. We reached out to Owen B. Toon, an atmospheric scientist at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

Some birds that look very different— say, bright hummingbirds and drab nightjars—are long-lost kin. Some never considered together, like songbirds and parrots, are really close relatives. Others that act similarly, such as falcons and other birds of prey, may be genetically unrelated. 

One of our twentysomethings emailed me about a sentence in an upcoming article:

        “Beauty is so difficult,” Mayor Massimo Cacciari
         said, sounding as if he were addressing a
         graduate seminar.

Twentysomething then asked, How does the use of “were” jive with a singular subject. Any explanation?

We receive a lot of feedback—both positive and negative—from readers all over the world each month. Last December’s article “King Herod Revealed,” in particular, provoked a flurry of emails, mostly from readers objecting to the claim: “Herod is best known for slaughtering every male infant in Bethlehem in an attempt to kill Jesus. He is almost certainly innocent of this crime.” (See the Letters section in the April issue for a sampling of letters and a clarification.) 

The 2009 major league baseball season opened Saturday. It should be a great year, filled with box scores, bleacher seats, and ... a dirty little secret.

Hours before a game, beneath major league baseball’s newest stadium, one of the sport's oldest rituals is under way. Two Washington Nationals batboys are rubbing brown gunk on dozens of new balls, toweling them off once the wet dirt cakes. Only when they’re done can the umpire yell, “Play ball!”

Russian Orthodox Church, April 2009

Moscow at Night, August 2008

Siberian Oil, June 2008

In the April issue of National Geographic appears a story by photographer Gerd Ludwig on the re-emergence of the Russian Orthodox Church. This is the third of a trilogy of stories that have run recently by Gerd covering various contemporary issues in Russia. I had a chance to catch up with Gerd in his home in Los Angeles to discuss his work.

“I love those first little green leaves,” says octogenarian Jean Combes of England’s oaks in spring. Since age 11 she’s jotted down signs of winter’s end. Too bad her girlish script shamed her and she tossed her first decade of notes. Such data are vital to phenology, the study of the timing of nature’s cycles. The science is gaining visibility as climate change blurs seasonal lines.


Photo: April 1 is an excellent day to pluck spaghetti from the Swiss trees where it ripens.

As you probably know, April 1 is April Fool’s Day. It’s not an official holiday,  but it is celebrated the world over. So who better to ask about its history than Alex Boese, curator of the (online only) Museum of Hoaxes and author of The Museum of Hoaxes, Hippo Eats Dwarf, and Elephants on Acid.

I read a story online that said April Fool’s Day began in ancient Rome. Then it turned out that story was a prank perpetrated by a college professor! Will you promise that you won’t try to fool me with your answers?

Everything I say will be, as far as I know, the truth.