That is a mighty fragile wrist

We have lubed up our mighty door, and it opens and closes much more easily now. Unfortunately, the damage is done, and my wrist is undergoing some fascinating physiological changes. It is now mottled and blotchy, and pain has increased. I may have to pop into the emergency room to get it splinted up, but This Is AMERICA, and a couple of tongue depressors and a pressure bandage might bankrupt me, if applied by a trained professional.

Unfortunately, I have to compose an exam for my genetics class today, and the ouchieness of typing these short paragraphs is making me dread the effort of typing four or five pages. Maybe I can get a wrist splint at the drugstore today?

That is a door, a mighty mighty door

This is the main door to my house.

It’s massive. What you can’t see is how thick and heavy it is. This is a door that would stand up to an assault by orcs armed with Grond. In the winter it’s the only door out of the house to a path cleared of snow, so you’re not getting in if we don’t let you.

The only problem is that not only is it heavy, but in the recent cold weather the shape of the frame has shifted and is clamping down on the door, so it massively resists movement. Right now, going out that door is a difficult enterprise, requiring that we grab that door knob and lean back with all our weight to pull it out; coming in requires turning the knob and bashing it with your shoulder. It really needs readjustment.

This prelude is to explain why I have sprained my wrist by trying to open a door. It was that door. Right now my wrist is swollen and bruised, changing colors — last night it was yellow and green, but today it’s more of a dark grey. Yes, it hurts. Why am I typing? I need to stop. Ouch. Bye.

It will always be the Gulf of Mexico to me

It got the name in the 16th century, it’s internationally accepted, but one clown thinks he has the authority to change it.

Map of the Gulf of Mexico from 1718

Unfortunately, Google is happy to cave on this issue.

Google said Monday it will change the name of the Gulf of Mexico to “Gulf of America” in Google Maps after the Trump administration updates its “official government sources.”

The company also said it will start using the name “Mount McKinley” for the mountain in Alaska currently called Denali.

I think someone told Trump that McKinley oversaw the last surge of American territorial expansion, and he thinks he can make a name for himself by seizing real estate. Maybe someone should mention to him the end of McKinley’s story? I don’t think he read it to the end.

The nice thing about all-meat diets is they kill my appetite

Sometimes, I hear about other people’s diets, and I’m left somewhat nauseous. I think this one needs to be called the FAFO diet.

The Fuck Around
This guy, in his 40s, decided to try what he called a “carnivore” diet. He was eating between 6–9 pounds of cheese, sticks of butter, and burgers daily—adding extra fat to the burgers for good measure. He claimed to have dropped weight, gained energy, and experienced improved mental clarity.

The Find Out
Our dear Florida Man went to the doctor for painless yellow nodules that had developed on his elbows, palms, and the soles of his feet. He was diagnosed with a condition called xanthelasma, which basically means you have so much cholesterol in your body that excess lipids leak from your blood vessels and form deposits. While the rest of his body worked overtime to keep him alive, his total cholesterol level was over 1,000 mg/dL. For context, the “at-risk” threshold for cholesterol is 240 mg/dL.

He could just swipe his hand across a piece of toast to butter it, I guess.

My cholesterol levels are well under control, but then we don’t eat any red meat, except for an occasional Impossible Burger, and most of my protein comes from fish. Moderation in all things, you know.

I’ve long had queasy feelings about those all meat diets, anyway.

An homage

I opened up You’re All Just Jealous of my Jetpack this morning, and this cartoon leapt out at me.

I felt so smart, like a classically trained art historian, because I knew instantly that this was a reference to a famous cartoon from Gary Larson’s The Far Side. I even remember seeing it in the newspaper back in the 1980s, and puzzling over its profundities.

It’s become the painting of a pipe for our age.

Typical Scandinavian-American family, circa 1900

My niece is busily archiving a vast pile of family documents to ancestry.com, and I periodically get these announcements that something new about long-gone relatives has appeared. This is a family portrait of the Westads in Fertile, MN ’round about 1900.

The stern bearded fellow seated in front is my great-great-grandfather Jens Pederson Westad, and next to him is my great-great-grandmother Marit Oldsdatter Solem Westad. The tall young man standing at the back is my great-grandfather Peter. He looks to have been about the age of the students I teach nowadays, which is a bit strange to me, since I remember him as a tall old guy with a great grey mustache. We all get old, I guess.

It just reminded me that I’ve got Peter’s pocketwatch (he’s not wearing it yet in the photo, he won’t buy it until 1908) out for repair and it should be ready any day now, and I do have his Talebakke Totenkniv (not worn in the photo, again it’ll be a few years before he buys it) on the desk in front of me. I always feel this odd thrill at seeing connections like this.

Elon Musk is a fake everything

I’ve been saying this for a long time: Musk is a poseur. He’s not a great engineer; when he directly meddled in the process at Tesla, the result was the Cybertruck, or his fake robot. He’s definitely not a good scientist, as witnessed by Neuralink. His efforts at social engineering are disastrous — look at what he’s done to Twitter. Musk is just a guy with a lot of money who buys people to do work he can attach his name to. The only thing exceptional about him is his ego.

So when he started bragging about being a great gamer, you could predict that that was all a lie.

During an appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience, Musk boasted that he was one of the top-ranked Diablo IV players in the world.

Shockingly, this turned out to be true (at least, at the time), but really, it shouldn’t have been possible—presumably, Musk doesn’t have enough spare hours in the day.

Recently, Musk attracted the suspicions of gamers again after revealing himself to be a top player of Path of Exile 2, with his high-level characters equipped with extremely powerful gear, indicating that a significant amount of hours had been pumped into his account.

Rather foolishly, Musk livestreamed himself playing the game, and gamers instantly clocked him as an inept player.

A detailed Reddit thread laying out the evidence against Musk makes it clear that he wasn’t familiar with basic gameplay mechanics of Path of Exile 2, and couldn’t possibly have leveled up his own characters by himself.

Gamers noted that Musk’s equipment was even better than Twitch streamers who play the game full-time for a living—the world’s richest man appears to have hired players to strengthen his characters.

I’m not a great gamer, not even a good one, but years ago I played World of Warcraft, and it was easy to tell when you had a fake player in your midst. Playing that game well required a thorough understanding of the mechanics — you had to be familiar with optimal sequence of attacks, you had to know the cooldowns on your magic items, you had to know the choreography of a boss fight. You could just use lots of money to buy top-tier gear, and you could pay someone to level up your character for you, but then the person who did that wouldn’t have the reflexes or the expertise to be effective. Those were the guys you’d invite to a raid because they had the glittering armor and the magnificent sword who would then, in the fight, stand in the fire and spam one button.

It’s easy for real players to spot the phonies.

It is pathetic that the richest man in the world who is running (badly) multiple companies and has the ear of the soon-to-be president and has what, 13 kids feels the need to pretend to be a super-cool elite gamer, too. No one is fooled.

An unfortunate retraction

I had previously announced that I was going to retire after 2025-2026. That statement is no longer operational. We looked at our finances, and we looked at the orange clown who is going to be running the country, and decided that we could not afford to retire yet. Or in the foreseeable future. Or ever.

It’s not all bad news. My lab is right across the hall from the anatomy lab, so when I drop dead at the bench, they can just wheel me across the way to the cadaver storage room, and we’ll also save the university one yearly expense.