Volcanic ridges in Antarctica may explain ancient maps of ice-less Antarctica

So apparently they have just discovered some of the highest concentrations of volcanos in the world in Antarctica:

It (sort of) explains how it's possible that the Ancients could have charted the region in mysterious maps on which Renaissance-era cartographers based some of their own very accurate maps of a snowless, iceless Earth-bottom.

These maps are known to be reasonably accurate when modern scientists have actually checked where all the land is under the snow.

These maps' existences have also been embraced by theorists who hold the view that the ancients travelled around the world before an Ice Age that wiped out civilisations - or perhaps one world civilisation that was more highly advanced than we give credit for. (Graham Hancock is one such writer.)

In pop culture, they're what the original Alien Vs Predator plot hung on, but it crops up far less in DaVinciCode or Indiana Jones type adventures than it should.

The idea goes that Renaissance and medieval map-makers had some sources from (say) Alexandria or from the Arabs, who had retained ancient manuscripts that would otherwise not have survived.

So more than ten millennia ago, given the presence of these volcanos, it is more possible this week than it was last week (in terms of what we know) that the Antarctic ice cap was melted at some point during human development over the last 50,000 years. We now know that it could have been done by serious amounts of volcanic activity.

These ideas about the ancients also feature massive amounts of post-diluvian PTSD for our ancestors. Theorists such as Hancock put forward something like the following:
Imagine all of the coastal cities and towns being wiped out by a deluge. Imagine most of your doctors, engineers, scientists, parents and friends being killed.
You're left with a mass of dribbling, traumatised people who can no longer tie their own shoelaces, telling fables about how Noah's Ark, or a Chinese dam-builder, or people who sprung from maize instead of mud, wiped away the sin, or started afresh.

Of course, there are other details related to this rendering of a prehistorical civilisation. Potentially a green and fertile Antarctic continent could even have been the seat of Atlantis. But if there was a world flood, causing tsunami across the planet, how did mapmakers chart the southernmost continent if it had been under the ice to begin with? The melt has to have come from elsewhere.
Would volcanic activity have had to cause such a catastrophe, followed by the flooding?

Perhaps Antarctica had been dry and habitable, and the tsunami were caused (as Hancock has suggested) by masses of Arctic Ocean ice falling into the seas before the last Ice Age.
Perhaps huge levels of world volcanic activity caused a big drowny melt before causing the equivalent of a nuclear winter, and it had nothing to do with Antarctic ice. Or perhaps Antarctica WAS partially covered, and partially free of ice, and those tsunami came up via the Pacific and Atlantic and Southern Oceans, building and building until they hit the more inhabited Northern Hemisphere and Equatorial regions.

Apparently the only region of the world without a flood myth is Japan. And they have a volcano myth. If there was a lot of seismic rupturing coming out of the world's botty, perhaps the Japanese were similarly, simultaneously affected, by similar stuff. Or maybe their seafaring folk witnessed the Antarctic events themselves firsthand.

Latest Trump News

"I got a call from the head of the Boy Scouts saying it was the greatest speech that was ever made to them, and they were very thankful." - Trump

The head of the Boy Scouts said he apologised for the political, partisan themes of the speech and that no phonecall took place.
Sneaky Trump has now weeded out another treasonous body of pinko liberals!

On North Korea, Trump recently said:
"Things will happen to them like they never thought possible."
Trump is going to use his secret plan to defeat ISIS on the North Koreans instead. (It's a suborbital genital-removing death-ray.)

That. is. all.

Poetry: For Those Left Behind by Seán Maguire

Poetry Collection: For Those Left Behind by Seán Maguire, available at Amazon US and Amazon UK
Seán's biography:
Seán Maguire was born and raised in the north of Ireland. Seán lived through over thirty years of political conflict, euphemistically referred to as, ‘The Troubles’. During three decades of horrendous violence over 3,600 people were killed and over 50,000 were injured. It was a terrible time to be a child or a teenager, playing sports and street games often just yards from gun battles and riots. Seán had a brother murdered during the conflict along with several school friends and various acquaintances. The poems in this collection hold up a mirror to the human suffering experienced by everyone in the North of Ireland. Despite the bombings and shootings people went about normal everyday life. This violent landscape provides the backdrop to the melancholy, and expressive imagery evident in Seán’s poems.
Seán has been writing poetry, song lyrics, short stories and non-fiction for over thirty years and has had a considerable amount of his work published in magazines, newspapers, anthologies and online blogs. Seán has studied at undergraduate and postgraduate levels at Queen’s University Belfast and the University of Ulster and his qualifications include a BA (Hons) in Humanities, with English Literature.
Seán has a range of poetic influences including Oscar Wilde, Dylan Thomas, Wilfred Owen, Pádraic Fiacc, Seamus Heaney, W.B. Yeats, Roger McGough, John Cooper Clarke, Leonard Cohen and many more. Seán is also inspired by music, particularly, punk, indie, reggae, blues and heavy rock.

Links to the book:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B073V8WDVC for Kindle version
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0993592384 for Print

The title poem and two others below:
For Those Left Behind
(First published the Cringeblog.com August 2016)

Behind our eyes, beneath our faces,
beyond skin colour, creeds and races,
our worlds crossed the same path on
dead man’s lane,
the killers’ wrath was all the same.

An empty chair, an old hat with locks
of hair.
A favourite skirt, muddy boots, still
caked with dirt.
We can never replace those,
who did not plan to leave so soon.

All that remains, are the ghosts of
those we grieve,
silently, without reprieve.

Treacherous Times
(In memory of my brother Thomas)

On the seventh day, of the third
a shade before the coming of spring,
your voice ceased to laugh and

A grim wind rapped the door,
you closed just a few hours

we knew you would not return


Finally, the eyelids grow heavy,
the fear overcome by exhaustion
as we journey into darkness forever,
to await who knows what in
To dream would be ever so pleasing,
of summer youth and love,
and lie and gaze at the sky above.
To recall some moments of laughter,
to smile at our feelings of fear.
Wondering about justice,
whilst shedding one more tear.

Tumbling, falling, headlong, the earth
is yearning,
although, upright we sit, clammy,
Fervently screaming and bleeding
in search of the truth, to no avail.

Follow Sean Maguire on Twitter.